#he just refuses to participate. go king

[rayhantochtli]

Tried that one glitch in pokemon sv where you can stand next to characters closer than normal to take some sweet pictures

And, this man, istg, what is his problem

I also figured out how to make my character invisible

[sluttysnowangel666]

Weeping Waters - cregan stark x reader

this story was inspired by this post!! i suggest you follow the op they were kind enough to let me write a story inspired by it❤️ @weirdiingwoman

summary: whilst on a trip for a tourney to celebrate queen rhaenyra’s succession to the throne, lord stark brings his child hood friend to keep him company. however a blistering hot day sends the northerner’s searching for relief from the sun. when they come across a hidden spot on the beach, cregan agrees to stand guard and keep watch so the lady can swim.

cw: au, no dance of dragons or war just cregan and his lady being secretly in love, smut as always, cregan is a SIMP for his lady just down historically bad for her , loss of virginity, fingering, friends to lovers, beach sex

“Gods, when will it end?” You moan out, fanning yourself to no avail.

Cregan doesn’t acknowledge your relentless whining, only sighs in response. The heat was torture, that was for damn sure. He nearly begun to feel sick from the mix of the moist air and putrid smell of King’s Landing.

After living in Winterfell for so long, his nose had grown blind to the familiar scents of his home. But now, after being away for weeks to celebrate the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cregan had grown desperate to return to the smell of winter.

You groaned and whined and groaned some more, only adding to Cregan’s already heightened irritation.

“Cregannnn!” You whined, dragging your feet while your sweaty hands held up your dress so it wasn’t pummeled with whatever strange liquids manifested themselves on the ground.

“I don’t know what you wish me to do, my lady.” He responds, flatly, growing ever so annoyed with you. “Tis’ the last day of the tourney, and then we will be home shortly thereafter.”

“I am ill equipped for this place.” You say, looking at the long sleeves of your dress that were now damp with sweat.

You arrive to the tourney, walking through the red and black dragon decorated festival. Your arm is linked in Cregan’s as you both take the steps to the table of other high lords. Cregan had refused to participate in the tourney, but encouraged his men to. Today Cregan’s right hand man and your brother, Jon Manderly, would go up against the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Criston Cole. Your proximity with Cregan made those around you assume you were the Lady of Winterfell, and did not realize you were there representing House Manderly.

“Let’s hope our brother does not die today.” You mumble. Cregan smirks, but your words sting him slightly. Our brother. As if the three of you were siblings. He dared never admit it, but he was in love with you. In love with you how a Targaryen man was oft in love with their sister. He would give anything if it meant he could actually make you Lady of Winterfell. But he knew you did not love him the same, and although your father was desperate for Cregan to ask your hand he would never jeopardize the friendship he shared with you and your brother.

He glanced down at your lap, your hands folded properly between your thighs. Gods, what he wouldn’t give.

The day would be long, and your brother’s fight was the last joust of the day. Only then could you finally go home to your cold bliss. But until that time came, you all had to suffer the blazing fury of the sun.

You sipped on the sweet wine that had been brought to you by servants, twisting your features at the fruity taste. The flavor was that of one you were not used to, given the ale in the North was oft bitter and strong.

“This wine is disgusting.” You say to Cregan. He picks up his own cup, taking a quick swig before doing the same thing you did.

“I told you.” You laugh, pushing his strong arm.

“You weren’t jesting, my lady. That is a very unpleasant wine.”

“Well, maybe I have a surprise for you later.” She whispered.

Despite the heat, he shivered at her words and his stomach swirled with anticipation.

The day seemed to drag on. Although the morning had been hot, it was nothing compared to the sun at midday. None of the southerner’s seemed fazed, but you and Cregan were drenched head to toe in sweat. It looked as if you had both bathed, that was how wet your hair was. Your sweat had seeped through your dress in every crevice. It was so hot in fact, you and Cregan were both panting like overworked dogs and now suddenly that sweet wine was a delicious and cool reprieve from the heat.

“Cregan, please can we sneak out of here?” She asks.

“And go where?”

“I don’t care! Just somewhere cool. There’s got to be some sort of water near here that isn’t filled with gods know what.”

He knew he should’ve stayed, but you had that pleading look in your eye and gods was it hot. He was growing so delirious from the heat that he would do anything you asked of him.

You both mumbled a quiet excuse to the other lords at the table, saying you were off to pray or something. The lords gave you both confused looks, but you were already off.

You ran holding your dress in your hands so you didn’t trip over the skirts, and you giggled as Cregan was close behind, also giggling at your escapade. The breeze from your running felt cool against your wet skin.

Cregan grabbed your arm and you laughed as you lost your balance and fell. You both screamed and laughed as you tripped over each other, rolling on the grass.

“You’ve stained my dress!” You yelled, laughing.

“Why don’t you take it off then?” Cregan says. The words come out before he can stop them, and his hand flies to his mouth in shock at his own words. His cheeks grow even more red than they were before.

You laugh, giving his arm a push. “Cheeky today, aren’t we?”

You both stand, walking now past the gardens. “Do you know where you’re going?” You ask.

“My father brought me to King’s Landing when I was younger. I got lost and found this beach beyond the gardens.” Cregan says.

You both walk down the stairs to a stone building, making your way through the dark, abandoned halls to reach the other side.

The sand on the ground felt grainy and satisfying under your boots, and you quickly pulled them off to sink your toes in the sand. The area Cregan had brought you to was slightly secluded, but could easily be found by accident by someone wandering by.

“I’ll keep watch.” He says, turning to face the direction you came as you shuffle out of your dress.

“Keep watch.” You mumble, displeased he won’t be joining you. Cregan doesn’t hear you leave initially, but he hears your groans of relief when you step foot in the cold ocean.

“The water is so lovely!” You yell to him. He looks down, shaking his head. He wanted to join you so badly, to cool off in the ocean while he held you close to him. The sun was beating down on his brown hair, soaking his head with sweat. He began to grow frustrated with the heat, and the thoughts of you naked in the ocean weren’t helping to cool him off.

But he’d rather face the heat of a thousand burning suns before he let someone see you bare. You were his, and he’d allow himself to pass out from the heat before he moved from his spot. He told himself that, swore it in fact. You would not tempt him with your siren song into that ocean.

“Careful you don’t burn, my lady.” Cregan yells.

“What was that?” You call. “I didn’t hear you. Perhaps you should join me.”

He smirks, tapping his foot impatiently against the sand. He breathes in the salty smell of the ocean, such a sweet reprieve from the foulness that lingered even in the Red Keep.

“Cregan!” You yell jokingly angry. “Come in right now before you melt!”

He laughs, and you walk towards him from the shore. He doesn’t hear you over the sound of the waves crashing.

He jumps a bit when he feels your hand touch his shoulder. You tug on it to try and turn him around, but he stands firm.

“Cregan.” You whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Cregannnn.” You sing. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t move, so you walk around his body to face him. He closes his eyes, his heart racing with fear.

“My lady.” Cregan says with caution, eyes still closed.

“I-“ Your sentence is cut off by loud, rambunctious yelling.

Cregan’s eyes snap open, immediately grabbing you to drag you back to the water. His gaze avoids your body as much as possible, but he still can see your curves in his peripheral.

He walks in with you, ignoring his now wet clothes and pushing you until the water is at your waist.

“Sit.” He says, pushing your shoulders down so you’re on your knees, the water stopping at your collar bone. “Do not move.”

He walks back to shore just as the men reach the beach.

“My lords, this area is off limits.” Cregan says to the group of three men.

“Says who?” A short and stocky man drunkenly yells.

“Me.” Cregan says, his voice stern. One of the taller men peaks a glance around him, locking his eyes onto yours. Cregan notices and immediately shifts so the man is face to face with Cregan instead.

“Are you men of salt and sea?” Cregan asks them.

“No… We represent House Clegane; We’ll be facing some Northern cunt.” The tall guy spits on the ground and his minions laugh. The men continue to avert their gaze to you, with nasty smirks filling their faces.

“I see. Then, my lords, let me tell you as Warden of the North I suggest… No… command you turn and go back to the tourney.”

“And if we don’t?” The tall one speaks again, challenging Cregan.

“Then since you wish to stay so badly I will drown you in the ocean… and make you men of salt and sea.”

The men shuffle uncomfortably, looking to their tall leader. He avoids Cregan’s eyes, looking around and deciding if a fight is worth it. Your heart beats unusually fast in your chest, afraid of what fight may come.

You had never seen Cregan so… dominate and protective. He was like a wolf defending its pups. You had seen him assertive in the training yard, frustrated, angry… but this was different. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. He was ice normally, but right now he felt like fire… even from far away.

A shiver ran up your body, yet you felt… hot in your stomach. Your chest fluttered, and you were afraid at the beast in your vision right now. Yet, he was igniting his own kind of fire in you, a heat that burned between your legs. Your hands nervously clawed and gripped at your thighs. You licked the salty water off your lips, nearly drooling at Cregan.

The men finally backed down, turning and leaving the way they had came. Cregan turned and looked at you, shaking his head. He did that a lot.

The way he protected you was so hot. You wanted to make it up to him.

He walked to the shoreline, the remnants of waves splashing his boots. He didn’t take his eyes off yours once.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice gentle with you. You nodded.

“Cregan…” You said. “I need you in the most unimaginable way possible right now.”

“Fuck.” He whispered, too quiet for you to hear. Did he dare cross this line? If he did, there was surely no returning.

Right when he decided against it, not wanting to strain your life long friendship, you stood up.

All logic, at that moment ceased to exist,

and he immediately stripped off his clothes.

Before he could even fully undress, you pounced on him. You yanked him in the water with his small clothes still on and slammed your lips on his.

“Thank you for protecting me.” You whispered. He kissed you with even more force after that, no longer able to contain himself. He felt such a strong urge in him to protect you, love you, hold you, breed you. He was possessed by your beauty and grace, and found himself getting lost in your lusciously sweet lips.

He held you tight against him, his length poking into your thighs. You rubbed him through his small clothes, eliciting a groan from him. Although the water was cooling him off, he found himself sweating with nervousness.

“Make me yours.” You whisper. His fingers greedily dig into your hips as he kisses you more deeply, tongues and teeth clashing. He claims your mouth with his, fighting to prove himself strong enough for you.

He tried to hide it, but he was deeply afraid. Cregan had never been with a woman intimately, and he did not want to let down the girl he loved since he was a child.

“Marry me.” He whispers. “Give me your hand. Be the Lady of Winterfell.”

You pull away from him, staring at him to search his eyes for any sign of a jest. But all you see are his gray eyes, staring back at you with a mixture of lust and love and hope.

When he saw the look of shock in your eyes, he immediately regretted his words. He had pushed too far and turned you off. He was convinced you had gotten lost in the madness of lust, and were only now realizing the consequences of your actions.

“Are… Are you serious?” You ask.

He nods, sadly. He couldn’t back down, he needed to say he tried.

“But, I’m just a Manderly. You could marry a Targaryen or Hightower if you wanted… Why me?”

“Because I love you, endlessly.” He says, “All those moments, all those memories… You’ve made me who I am. I’m not me without you.” and it was true. Every glance he stole, every time you fought, hunted, played, argued… It all led him to here. He knew there was a purpose for you both. He always felt it in his soul, he just hadn’t known what it meant until now.

Now he knew it meant your fates were sealed long ago.

“Lady Stark,” You say, playing with Cregan’s chest. “rolls off the tongue quite nicely.”

He pulls you back onto his lips, a tear escaping his eye at the joy he felt. You were his, and you always would be.

Gods be damned, honor be damned. I want her now.

He picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His hand supported your bottom as he carried you all the way back to the sand. You kissed his neck, cradling it between your hands.

Cregan set you down on his discarded clothes, flattening out the cloak so sand wouldn’t ruin your endeavor.

Cregan’s fingers smoothed over your cunt and you gasped. He pushed one inside and you found yourself gripping his bicep for support, the other hand resting on the back of his neck. You closed your eyes, moaning softly. He inserts another, stretching you to prepare you as best as possible. You moan his name, begging for the rest of him.

“Please, please, take me.” You pleaded. He was hesitant, as badly as he wanted it.

He decided he would be angry with himself later. For now, for the first time in Westeros history, a Stark forgot about honor.

He pulled his fingers out, rubbing himself with the lingering wetness from your cunt. He pushed off the last of his small clothes and positioned his length against you.

You finally felt slightly nervous when his length touched you. Cregan was a big man of course, surely you should have known that would’ve applied to other parts.

And yet it had slipped your mind, so now here you were mentally unprepared and growing nervous at his size about to take your maidenhead.

“Were other women you’ve been with intimidated by your size?” You ask, a tremble in your voice.

“What?” He asks.

“What?” You repeat.

“I’ve never been with other women.” He shakes his head.

“What?” You say again, surprise in your voice this time.

“You will be my first.” He says. “Am I yours?”

You nod.

“Then I will take care of you.” He says. You press your shaky lips to his, and his hand gently holds your cheek to comfort you.

He slides into you, slowly, holding you close to him to keep you from wiggling. You whine into his lips, a small sob parting you.

“You’re okay.” He whispers. “I’ve got you. We will go easy, my girl.”

You nestle your face into his neck, holding on to him with a death grip.

He makes love to you slow at first, waiting for your tight cunt to adjust to him.

“Gods, please move.” You beg,

He immediately does as you command, fucking you with lust in his hips but love in his heart. You stare at him, admiring every feature on his face as he fucks you. His lips are parted, gasping softly, and his piercing gray eyes are focused only on your face. His wet brown locks fall beside his face, and you push it back with your fingers so they don’t hinder his vision. Your other hand leaves trails of red scratches down his chest, which only fuels on his hunger to make you writhe and wiggle more beneath him.

“Right there, Cregan. Oh, fuck, please. Please, my lord.” You moan. Cregan nearly melts at your lascivious begging.

He continues his harsh thrusts on your cunt, blood drips down his chest from the ferocity of your nails. He hardly even notices the burning pain, he’s too busy drowning in the heat between your legs.

You pull his lips onto yours, whining and moaning into his mouth as you hit your peak. Cregan groans as you tighten around him, and he plants his hand into the sand beside your head.

He wanted to pull out, he really did. But the way your cunt tightened around him, the way you pulled him into you so you could moan into his lips, the way your body trembled as you peaked… it was too much to handle. He spilled his seed into you, and by how much he spilled surely you would be pregnant with an heir if he did not get you moon tea on the morrow.

For now, he just wanted you. He wanted to wed you the moment you arrived back home. Your father would definitely be doing cartwheels when he heard the news, your brother would likely be happy as well.

There was time in their future for an heir, but all he could think about right now was how hard it was gonna be to restrain himself with you as his betrothed now.

“Our little secret?” You asked, referring to your engagement on the beach.

“Our little secret.” He said, pecking a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

You both rinsed off in the ocean, dressing back in your clothes and returning to the tourney just in time to see your brother win against House Clegane.

But unfortunately, he had celebrated too early following his win against House Clegane, because he had gotten too drunk and lost only an hour later to Criston Cole.

“50 gold dragons.” He drunkenly scoffed.

“Better than none, brother.�� You said, trying to comfort his first place loss. You looked to Cregan for help, but he was lost in his own world thinking about the beach.

“Something trouble you, Cregan?” You ask.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” He says, discretely brushing his hand against yours.

You blush, and the three of you silently make your way back to the great hall inside the Red Keep for the final feast of the tourney.

“I offer my congratulations to the winners, including my sworn protector Criston Cole and the second place winner Jon Manderly. I also offer my thanks to all the lords and ladies who have travelled from as far as Dorne to Winterfell. This will be a tournament for the books.” Queen Rhaenyra announces, sitting beside her council members including Alicent, Rhaenys, her son Jacaerys, Criston Cole, and her husband Daemon. “I would also like to announce a new marriage betrothal, brought to me by Cregan Stark!”

You and your brother turn to Cregan, who avoids your eyes yet smirks. “Cregan Stark has announced he will wed Lady Manderly, sister of the second place winner Jon Manderly, to celebrate Winterfell’s second place victory!”

The hall erupts in noise as people flood around you with their congratulations. You look at your brother, whose jaw is hanging to the floor.

“I suppose this truly makes us brothers now, aye Cregan?” Your brother says when he finally speaks, his northern accent appearing thicker than usual.

“Aye.” Cregan nods.

Your brother’s shock dissipates, and he finally shares his joy with you. He punches your arms, just like when you had been younger.

“Ow, brother! You forget yourself!” You say, smacking his arms.

“Sorry, sister. This moment is so joyous. Father might have a heart attack when he hears.”

You give your brother a gentle, appreciative smile, grateful for his approval as he takes your hand in his.

“Lady Manderly and Lord Stark, while your marriage will not take place here we will celebrate in your absence. King’s Landing is forever indebted to the hospitality and strength continuously provided by the Starks.” The Queen says, raising her glass to you and Cregan.

Those around you celebrated and drank, relishing in the most joyous of occasions. Queen Rhaenyra successfully ascended the throne, the tournament had been historic, Winterfell had emerged near victorious, the Stark bloodline would soon carry on.

“It is unfortunate we cannot get drunk on this piss wine.” Cregan says, playing with his cup.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier I had a surprise for you, my betrothed?” You say, lifting your dress to reveal a little metallic flask tied to your leg. He looks at you, raising his eyebrow and smirking.

“Shall we retire for the night?” He asks.

You take his hand and the both of you slip out the door, in search of another place to “cool off.”

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

Let me share the latest idea I’ve been obsessing about: A vaguely Greek mythology-inspired Aventio AU where Ratio, prince of Amphoreus, has come of age and, is supposed to get married, according to the laws and customs of his city. Except he’d rather focus on the greater purpose of curing the world from ignorance, starting with his own people, than waste his time courting some egoistical royal he couldn’t care less about. So he comes up with the oldest trick in the book to escape this meaningless duty without causing an uproar: Setting up open to all (but secretly impossible to complete) tasks that his future spouse will have to overcome if they wish to prove themselves worthy of his hand. Not that Ratio expects anyone to succeed, and for several years, his ruse works just fine, which gives him plenty of time to further his studies and become a well-versed scholar. Many suitors try to outwit him, but none can even pass through the first trial.

Then enters Aventurine.

His participation alone provokes outrage. Appalled whispers fill the streets. How dare a Sigonian barbarian, a former slave, believe himself good enough to marry the noble and esteemed prince of Amphoreus? Does he have no shame, parading around the city in grotesquely eye-catching clothes, as if he has already won?

As soon as it reaches their ears, Ratio’s advisors suggest he bans Aventurine from the competition, which he refuses just as fast. The rules he created state that anyone can participate, regardless of their birthright or education, and that is final.

So Aventurine undergoes the trials and solves all of Ratio’s perfectly crafted puzzles and enigmas, though in rather unconventional ways their creator never even considered (think cutting the Gordian knot in half instead of untangling it).

Still, when he kneels in front of Ratio as they are introduced, he fully expects the prince to accuse him of cheating as an excuse to call the marriage off. Not that he minds. It’s all part of his plan, after all. He needs Ratio’s assistance to fulfill the latest mission assigned to him by the IPC, and what better way to catch his attention and flaunt his insane luck than by beating him at his own game? Besides, he knew from the start a future king would never stoop as low as to wed a former slave.

However, what happens next is the one possibility the Stoneheart didn’t account for:

Prince Ratio doesn’t go back on his word.

How could he, when he has oh so unexpectedly found his match, when their qualities and faults balance each other out so perfectly? The crowd might attribute Aventurine’s victory to deceit or divine luck, but he can tell honed skills, shrewdness and street smarts were the real actors at play. While hearsay claims that he only respected his part of the deal out of integrity and virtuousness, perhaps even pity, his heart tells another story.

With such a sharp-witted, and dare he say it, charming fiancé challenging his worldview, well…

Suddenly, the prospect of betrothal doesn’t seem so ludicrous anymore.

And that is how, to everyone’s surprise, including his own, Aventurine accidentally gets engaged to a secretly smitten prince. (He soon learns to love it. And the citizens of Amphoreus, not to badmouth him or his origins ever again, unless they want to have chalks thrown at them by their very pissed monarch)

[spacerockfloater]

Every time Team Black stans talk about Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Dragon Twins as if they’re blessings upon this earth, an angel loses its wings.

Like, okay. They’re children, I’m excusing all of them up to a certain point. But they’re some of the most vicious, aggressive, cowardly, snotty brats we’ve ever seen in this franchise and pretending that they’re not is so foul.

Lucerys is a hypocritical twat that bullied the boy he grew up with because he didn’t have a dragon, but then he’s totally okay hanging out with Rhaena who doesn’t have one either. And then he pulls out a knife and blinds Aemond for no fucking reason, after his gang attacked him first, and faces zero consequences for his actions. He eventually grows up to become an even worse person by literally laughing in his cousin’s face, whom he disabled. And then he tries to boss lord Borros around by telling him that he’s obligated to ally with Rhaenyra even if there isn’t anything in him for it.

Jacaerys is also very two faced for the exact same reasons as Lucerys, with the addition of having anger management issues. Like, remember how he beats the living shit out of his little brother when they’re training at the beach, kicks him to the ground and grabs him by the throat because he is upset their uncles are better warriors than them? That’s the good future king you’re all talking about? He is already obsessed with the idea of becoming king, to the point that his own mother has to remind him that she’s actually alive and well and he would have to wait a good fucking while before his dreams come true. That’s actually so sick on his behalf. Not to mention that he very likely married Sara Snow, betraying his fiancée, in order to gain the Starks’ help, which is very dishonourable. At least Lucerys told Borros he’s betrothed and refused to marry one of his daughters to get his support, I’ll give him that.

Baela is a deranged evil girl who was ready to throw hands on sight, too. And have we forgotten that she becomes a drunkard and whoremonger who spends her money gambling in the rat pits, the places where children fight one another in King’s Landing, once she grows up, or is it wrong only when Aegon II does it?

Rhaena is an aggressive coward who seems more preoccupied with the acquisition of a dragon than her mother’s death. She didn’t have the guts to go and claim Vhagar, but she feels powerful enough to confront Aemond when she has three people backing her up.

Finally, even without taking all of their problematic traits into account, these people are so severely uninteresting and unimpressive. Lucerys does not convince Borros to side with his mother and drops dead like a fly. Joffrey gets shrugged off by Syrax and plummets to his demise. Jacaerys is immediately killed during his embarrassing attempt to fight the Triarchy, not to mention that he was the reason his youngest half siblings were captured and nearly killed because he had the brilliant idea of sending them away. Baela loses the only dragon fight she was ever part of to Aegon II and Sunfyre who were very injured by a previous fight already! And Rhaena is just… there. Doing nothing. Never avenging her husband’s death, eventually marrying a Hightower. Yikes.

Are there much more ill behaved children in ASOIAF? Yeah, for sure, but we actually acknowledge that children like Aegon II and Joffrey Baratheon are pieces of shit. But if we could like, stop glorifying these four mediocre and borderline malicious kids solely because some of you feel the need to ride the dicks of everyone who is part of Rhaenyra’s crew, that would be great. They might be children, but they’re children with shady, putting it mildly, personalities, wielding new-clear weapons of mass destruction who actively participated in a war, especially Jacaerys and Baela. They sure were victims of the world they were raised in, but they were aggressors as well. And like, this is the ASOIAF universe, nearly all of our protagonists are children. We can’t constantly apply modern day morals and coddle them forever because “OMG, they are just babies!”, unless we are ready to apply the same logic on the Targtowers, who were basically the same age as Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children.

[simpingland]

Ooohhhh okie so;

Can I get a Harwin x Fem!Reader

Major fluff, I’m thinking Harwin either wining or losing to Daemon at a tourney and reader like cleans him up as they share a bath.

The idea is really vague.

(Feel free to ignore!!)

Crown of Soap.// Ser Harwin Strong x fem!reader.

Summary: Ser Harwin only wants to crown his wife as the Queen of Love and Beauty. And the problem is not that Daemon is his opponent, but that his wife does not want Harwin to win the tournament.

A/N: sorry if this was too much introduction till the bath. I LOVED THIS IDEA. Thank you for reaching, hope you like it❤️gif not mine.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Days at King Viserys's court were quiet considering the presence of Prince Daemon. Daemon's marriage to his beloved niece Rhaenyra had brought happiness to the family, though it was a difficult decision for the King. But the Princess radiated joy and quickly outgrown your reputation as a happy bride. Whenever Rhaenyra appeared in your room, your husband Harwin left politely but hurriedly. You could see him roll his eyes when your attention was taken from him, and you could only smile at his politeness, knowing full well that he was not irritated, and that he was exaggerating just to amuse you. You, on the other hand, were deeply happy for your dear friend Rhaenyra, who had trusted you from the first day you sat beside her. And of course, the Crown Princess's wedding deserved something grand, something to entertain the nobles, a tournament.

"No, Harwin, there is no need for you to participate," you told him at dinner. Your refusal took him by surprise.

"And why not? It will be fun. Besides, who can beat me?"

Ser Harwin "Breakbones," of course, and his confident smile appeared at that nickname. And the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his arms would never deny it, but not everything lasts forever. Daemon was a proud, competitive man, and besides, Harwin was more clumsy, strong, but clumsy.

"Well, I just don't want you to get hurt too badly."

"I'll take my chances. I want to crown you Queen of love and beauty."

"That's very sweet..." you saw him take your hand, pleased with himself. "But I wouldn't want you to."

"I'm not understanding anything."

Poor thing, you stroked his hand, big and rough but so manly and tender.

"It's a tournament in honour of Daemon and Rhaenyra. And Daemon will want to win to crown Rhaenyra. And honestly, she deserves to be crowned, even if Daemon doesn't deserve to win. You don't know how many times the Princess has cried on my shoulder for Daemon. She doesn't deserve that man either...but since she's got him, it would be fitting to give them a nice start to their marriage. Do you understand, my love?"

You watched as he processed the information, his sweet eyes looking into yours. And he nodded, smiling and stroking your hand back.

"All right...but I'm not going to make a fool of myself."

"Harwin..." you chided him.

"You deserve crowns too, and it is my duty to honour you. So I won't let them laugh at me or you. And I will fight as hard as the Prince fights." His tone was serious, but not strong or stern.

"I don't want a crown!"

"Then you shall have it!"

"You are disgustingly stubborn."

"You cannot prevent me from winning fairly. It is dishonourable."

"Harwin, please..." he got up to get into bed, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to win you that crown." He pointed his finger at you and began to undress.

"Then I'll flush it down the toilet," you lied, crossing your arms.

You could see the smile creeping back on his face, and you couldn't hide it much longer either. And the 'discussion' went on until Harwin fell asleep.

The tournament was not long in coming. Of course, while you were putting on one of your best dresses, Harwin was putting on one of his best suits of armour. He sat obediently for you to put his long, curly hair up in a ponytail. You offered to be late for the tournament while you frolicked in bed, but he declined.

"We'll enjoy tonight, where I can see you happy and beautiful with your new crown. Only with your crown."

"That's if you come in one piece, my love."

Of course, he never took such remarks with offence. A man as great as he was did not doubt his manliness in the face of words, and his dear wife was the first with whom he could be vulnerable and who truly knew his ways. And to hurt Harwin's spirit it took more than that, and that was what you loved most about him, that he was so much more than 'the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms'. He gave you a tantalising kiss before parting from you, a kiss that could have gone further, but Harwin broke away, leaving you wanting more. As you sat down next to Rhaenyra, you could see him smile sympathetically at his squire, happy and nervous. The bride looked with his same emotions, her eyes searching energetically for Daemon, touching her necklace.

"Who are you going to bet on, Princess?" you asked jokingly.

"For my husband, just as you will bet on yours..." she replied, smiling.

"Oh, don't think I'm so convinced. Prince Daemon will do everything he can to crown you. He'd be willing to finish off the brute of Harwin to win a kiss from you."

You watched as Rhaenyra laughed, blushing. She reminded you of yourself when you were newly wed. A young lady, who travelled with her father to King's Landing to gain a place among the King's court. And of course, you were given the duty of marriage. The Princess and now Queen Alicent were kind, and kept you company during the exhausting courtships of the lords. Rhaenyra was only bent on marrying Daemon, Alicent was already married, but you couldn't find anyone you liked at all. Until the hunt in honour of Aegon. Ser Harwin Strong hadn't said a word to you since you arrived, and it was understandable since you were a girl in the shadow of a princess and liked to watch him from afar. When the whole court moved to spend three days hunting, the Strongs offered to take you and your father in the carriage, for yours had broken down in the middle of the road. And it was during those days that Harwin truly saw you. He gave up riding on his own horse to keep talking to you on the road, gave you his cloak at night when it was cool, and sat beside you at suppers, listening to your gossip while he told you what he had seen on the hunt. And though Harwin was a candidate to be the Princess's husband, he was quick to ask your father for your hand, but not before asking you first. Your betrothal was so simple and so happy that Rhaenyra had to hide her jealousy, but it was soon noticed and you and Harwin planned dinners with Ser Lyonel, where you convinced him that Daemon would be the best choice and conveyed it to the king. You triumphed.

The jousting began, and as expected, the final three were Daemon, Harwin and Criston. Your husband winked at you every time his opponent fell to the ground. And it was he who defeated Criston, making both you and Rhaenyra chuckle a bit too much. When it was his and Daemon's turn, they both approached the stand where you were standing. Daemon asked his wife for her favour, while Harwin asked for yours. You chose the most beautiful and simple ribbon, with small purple flowers and colourful dark green leaves. When you put it on Harwin, you looked into his eyes.

"I would wish you luck, my lord, but if you do the right thing, you will always come out on top." That was your last request.

And you watched as they both clung tightly to your horses. Difficult to overthrow, Daemon and Harwin were beginning to grow frustrated, as were you and Rhaenyra. And when Harwin broke Daemon's shield, it was all but settled for the knight to win, not the prince. Before they made the final turn, Harwin looked at you, without the smile, and you nodded for him to look at Rhaenyra. She was holding your hands, her face was one of disappointment as she saw her husband angry at the situation. And you saw how he himself struggled. On the last blow, Harwin again galloped with impetus, as did the Prince, and before he could strike the blow, the Prince was able to push him off his horse. It was harsh, and a resounding fall. Everyone held their breath a little before bursting into applause as Harwin removed his helmet in defeat. You clapped as you watched your husband, being lifted up by Daemon. They shook hands and then he reached for his squire. And from a distance he could see the smile on your face as Rhaenyra was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by her husband. Then, he waited for you to arrive at his tent so that you would feel sorry for him.

"Are you all right?" You asked, genuinely dismayed.

"I think I need to wait in bed for a month and a half. In the company of my wife, naked if possible. The masters so indicate." He exaggerated a tired tone that made you laugh.

"You are perfectly fine, I see. Though you reek of sweat."

"A crown of flowers would have taken away this stench."

"Soap and water is also a good option."

And you walked towards the castle, but Harwin was not at your side, and when you turned you saw that he was limping. The sight made you tender, for he was so big, he made so much noise in that armour, and he walked like a little boy with that smile framed by a beard. You had to let him rest his arm on your shoulders.

"Come on, 'old-bones', we haven't got all day."

You smiled at him when he rolled his eyes at his nickname. Harwin didn't have that many years on you, you were always amused by the nickname, pointing out his very limited grey hair as if it was the beginning of the end, and watched as he proceeded to try to impress you with his talents. And you loved those displays, him picking you up, practising with his sword in front of you, or helping to fix things around the castle. In time, Harwin began to enjoy your "pity" for him when he fell asleep on your chest, or when you read aloud to him. When he was drowsy he always let you fill his face with little kisses. The maidens prepared a large bath for you, with refreshing water after the hot day, and the squire brought into the room the cloak, shield and crown with which you had wished Harwin luck.

You helped him take off his armour, one of your favourite hobbies, and your husband always enjoyed watching your concentration. He had bruises when you undressed him completely, and one that was sure to get worse on his abdomen, where Daemon had struck to get him to throw it off. He was sweaty, incredibly handsome, but his injuries worried you.

"Don't worry," he said, voice low and caressing your face, making you stare at him. "I'm fine."

"It's a good bump."

"That's what happens when you raise your arm too high, you find a weak spot."

You could tell by the smile. Harwin had done it on purpose, he'd let himself get hit. It made sense, he had the advantage, and he was too easy to beat even when Daemon had been hurt worse.

"You let him win..."

"No..." he lied. "I'm old, that's all."

He climbed into the tub by himself, sinking down to wet his head. Meanwhile, you stood outside, watching him, your brave knight. Grabbing an ointment, you sat beside the tub and carefully spread the cream over those bruises. You could feel Harwin's eyes following you. And when you reached the big one, the pain made him pull away.

"I'm sorry," you said, "I can't quite reach, turn around a bit."

"No," he replied. "Get in with me. You smell like sweat too."

"But I have to put the ointment on you."

"Put it on later. Take a bath with me."

At your refusal, Harwin splashed the water on you, soaking much of your dress and hair. So, wanting to kill him, you gasped and shed your clothes. Your husband couldn't take his eyes off you, and immediately made room for you.

"This bathtub isn't that big..." you said as you settled in.

"I know, and that's what I like the most."

You were in front of him. You had to pull your knees up to your chest to get in, and Harwin grabbed your foot and made you straighten your leg. When he kissed you on the sole, his beard tickled you.

"Harwin, stop!"

"I can't hear you, wife, you're too far away." And he tugged at the hand you'd thrown to pull your foot away from his lips, and pulled you down to lie in his lap. Your faces close and his hands resting on your waist. Then already Harwin let you clean him. With the washcloth and a bar of soap, he closed his eyes as you ran it gently over his armpits, over his shoulders, always leaving a path of caresses.

"It's a shame you didn't win, my lord..."

"More's my pity you didn't get a crown."

"You're obsessed with the crown," you joked. Harwin opened his eyes to focus on you. "Honestly, I don't need you to win tournaments or be a great fighter to prove anything. I like the humble, good man I have for a husband."

As you washed his face, Harwin moved his hand along the curve of your back.

"I just wanted to see you shine," he confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"Ever since you came to the palace, you've been in the Princess's shadow forever. And I only dared to speak to you when I could find you apart from her. You are more than a lady-in-waiting to Rhaenyra, and I feel that the life I give you does not take you away from that. I feel that...I need to bring you pride and honour. I need them to see you, as I see you."

"Oh, Harwin..." you threw yourself on his mouth, and you kissed each other so passionately that you felt like you could melt right there, on top of your husband, with his flowery scent and warm from sweat. And as you kissed, Harwin's hand caressed your thighs, drawing you even closer to him. When you broke apart, your smile was irrepressible.

"I adore you... I adore you for what you have done for Rhaenyra. And I adore you for thinking of me. And I love you, Harwin, I love you for being the gentle knight as sweet as you are stubborn."

You saw him blush, smiling. And you kept bathing him until all that was left to do was to wash his hair. Then you stood behind him, all that back holding your upperbody.

"I can't wait to be an old man so you have to bathe me all the time." You felt him relax with your massage.

"In a month you'll be fulfilling that dream, you little elder."

You heard his laughter as you removed the soap from his hair. And then all that was left to do was relax. With Harwin between your legs and his head on your chest, his hands caressed the hands resting on his chest and you stared into nothingness. Then you began to talk about your favourite subject.

"I saw Criston tripping before the joust began," Harwin said. "He thought no one saw him, but he saw me looking at him."

"And you laughed, didn't you?"

"And I laughed..." and Harwin burst into laughter again, laughing and making you laugh as well. "Well, though in fairness, I don't think there's anyone in the kingdom who could wear a crown of flowers better than Criston, he's a handsome mother fucker..."

"I don't agree. He's very handsome...but he doesn't deserve it."

Your arm reached for the small crown from before, Harwin looked over to see what you were doing. When you took the little crown, he thought he understood everything.

"True, you are a better candidate for..." when he went to take it from you to crown you, you pushed it away from him.

"No, my dear Harwin. I don't deserve it either..." you put on an exaggerated solemn tone. "The true king of love and beauty is the sweet knight Ser Harwin 'Breakbones' Strong."

And he let you put the crown on him, his hair wet and clean. You watched as he clasped his hands together and placed them tenderly near his cheeks, lifting one shoulder flirtatiously. He forced you to kiss his hand, which you did as you laughed. But his appreciation was shown when he plunged you back into one of those kisses that only he knew how to give you, the kiss he had promised before the joust began.

And you knew he was truly honoured because he spent the rest of the day with that wreath on, and took one of the flowers in his suit the next day. No one else could know even if they saw it on his shirt. But only you needed to know, because when you got close to his chest you could smell not just a flower, but the love and beauty it represented.

[kannouo]

This Is Halloween — The Dateables (+ Luke)!

fandom: obey me pairing: dateables (+ luke, platonic) x gn!reader warnings: none prompt by anon: Your Halloween Hc’s with the OM brothers were great! I loved them! If you want, would you consider writing the same for the dateables, especially Diavolo since it’s his Birthday ! A/N: im glad you liked the headcanons with the brothers. i decided to add a shorter bonus luke too since i got pretty into writing these. hope u enjoy, and happy birthday to my boy diavolo <33

DIAVOLO

• Diavolo loves Halloween, and he takes celebrating it very seriously.

• Absolutely organises a costume party event to take place at the castle. There will be drinks, lots of fun activities for the guests, and bowls full of candy on all of the tables for the attendees to take from. The entire palace is decorated too, thanks to Barbatos. Nobody knows how he managed to hang decor from the ceiling.

• One might think it's inappropriate for the King of the Devildom to dress in a silly costume in front of his subjects while hosting a party. But it's Halloween. Of course he's going to dress up.

• If Lucifer can't manage to dissuade him in time, he will dress as that one Princess Diavolo sticker for fun. He honestly doesn't see the issue with it — plenty of people are dressed in silly, unserious costumes. Plus, the huge ballgown is actually very pretty. Lucifer seems to be the only brother who doesn't find it hilarious.

• Honestly isn't very good at most of the activities that were set up, but enjoys them anyway. He tends to get assistance from the other attendees, which he appreciates.

• Also, definitely wants a sleepover with you on Halloween night so you can binge-watch horror movies with him. Or, if you don't like horror, he'll just let you choose any film you'd like to show him at all. He really doesn't mind.

• He'd love to participate in horror attractions around the devildom! It's just that, well, he's a king, and the scare actors aren't particularly keen on jumping out and startling their literal ruler. He'll probably get a little pouty about this, but he'll cheer right up if you suggest he go trick-or-treating instead.

• Imagine someone rings the doorbell on Halloween, you answer and it's the fucking royal family and they want all your candy.

• He has multiple bags worth of sweets by the end of the night, and he's very happy with himself! Even though Barbatos warns him not to try and eat them all in one sitting, he still probably makes an attempt.

• Can't do work the next day because of a stomach-ache.

"Diav— oh wow," you stare and blink in shock at the sight before you. Lord Diavolo, dressed in a large and luxurious dress, looking at you with a smile. "Are you... dressed as that one sticker?" "Ah, I'm so glad you recognised!" Diavolo beamed. "Isn't it amazing?" "Uh— yeah," you nodded your head, then pulled out your D.D.D. "...Do you mind if I take a picture?" "Of course! Go right ahead." Oooh, Levi is so gonna wish he came along...

BARBATOS

• Indifferent to Halloween as a whole, but takes part due to Diavolo's love of it.

• Like I mentioned, he's mostly the one who decorated the palace. He couldn't help but be very tempted by the jumpscare props he'd come across while shopping, but decided against it for the sake of the people attending the party, keeping all of the decorations fairly simple and inoffensive. He also set up all of the activities for the guests to participate in.

• Also, pumpkin pie, anyone?

• As you can imagine, he does a lot for the event itself, but doesn't really participate. Diavolo drags him into a few things, but he won't dress up. He refuses to, saying his butler clothes are fine and allows the guests to recognise that he's still working. If you beg he might wear a Halloween-themed accessory or two.

• Anything he is dragged into doing, be it apple-bobbing, candy-making or pumpkin-carving, he immediately excels at. Insists he's never carved a pumpkin before while doing the most insane, elaborate design. You don't even think he's lying, he's just that guy.

• Again, he will not willingly go to a horror attraction on his own, but he can be convinced to go by either you or Diavolo. And when he's there, nothing affects him. Not even in the slightest. You're pretty sure his poker-faced smile is scarier than most of the actual jumpscares going on.

• He has the same reaction to horror films, too. He might gently tease you for being scared, but quickly drops it in favour of either turning it off, or letting you hold onto him for the duration of the movie.

• Doesn't mind handing out candy and some of his baked treats, but tries to mix in healthier food options too. He doesn't want the guests or the King to get a stomach-ache from eating too much sugar.

"...How did you do that?" You gazed in awe at the intricate design carved into Barbatos' pumpkin. It was a replica of what the palace looked like from the outside, and he'd somehow managed to add every fine little detail with his carving knife. He smiled. "I just trusted my hands would replicate the image in my head," he said simply, then looked at your pumpkin. "Yours looks nice as well." "...Thanks." You said. You were unconvinced he could have possibly meant that compliment for your carving that was, by now, simply an indiscernible blob, but you appreciated the thought.

SIMEON

• So. Halloween originated from the belief that, on that day, the line between the living and the dead was blurred. Traditions such as lighting bonfires spawned under the premise of warding off spirits. Simeon, as an angel, I feel would still have an attachment to that origin.

• He still participates in the fun events and games, but will also cast wards in order to prevent spirits from getting too close. He tries to be pretty secretive about it as well, since he's pretty sure most demons in the Devildom won't respond kindly to the sight of angelic sanctifying magic, even if it's to protect them.

• Very happy to dress up. He tries on a bunch of different costumes, but I love the idea of him going as a deer. The fake antlers are a little heavy on his head though, so he might take them off from time to time.

• He loves the cute little Halloween-themed objects. Like Halloween-themed cupcakes, Halloween-themed window stickers, and props such as pumpkins with faces on them or boo-ghosts. He's first to decorate Purgatory Hall specifically so he can beat Solomon to it, because he just knows that sorcerer would somehow traumatise Luke if he were in charge of the decor.

• Isn't much a fan of horror, but it doesn't particularly frighten him, either. He reacts to jumpscares, sure, but not much else. A pretty good option to choose to watch horror movies or go to haunted houses with though, because even though he isn't really a fan, he's steady enough to bring you comfort the whole time.

• Super sweet to any trick-or-treaters that come to the door. He always makes sure to buy the large chocolate bars to hand out, and he compliments the costume of every kid that comes by.

• Asks you to tag along with him and Luke to go trick-or-treating. They're both 100% respectful of "take one!" signs, every single time.

Luke gleefully skipped up to the nearest house, ringing the doorbell and gesturing for you two to "come here". You and Simeon hurried forward a little to catch up with him before an older lady opened the door, greeting the three of you with a friendly smile. "Trick or treat!" She leaned to the side, picking up a bucket full of candy and offering it to Luke. "Here, take whatever you like." "Not too much, Luke." You warned, and Simeon gave a nod and a smile. "Haha! Nonsense, your son can take as much as he likes." You felt Simeon freeze up at the same time you did. ... "Huh?! I'm not their son!"

SOLOMON

• Spooky season for this man is an excuse to be a menace.

• As if he needed one.

• A little bummed that Simeon got to decorating before he did, but still, he can work with it. He enchants some of the props to move and jerk violently whenever someone walks too close to it, giving both Simeon and Luke the fright of their lives when they get up for water in the middle of the night.

• His costume is a classic witch/wizard outfit. Everybody boo him for being boring and unoriginal. Boo!

• He carries around a wand just for authenticity, but will actually proceed to cast spells using it for the rest of the night. It's completely unnecessary and just requires extra effort, but he likes being able to threateningly point a wand at people.

• Really enjoys the activities and games. He actually won't try to use magic to win, he'll do it legitimately, but is so good at the apple-bobbing that everyone is pretty sure he enchanted the apples somehow and are refusing to touch them like they're contaminated.

• On that note, don't let him do the candy-making stuff. It doesn't matter how close an eye you keep on him, he will mess it up somehow. He made quite possibly the worst candy apple the three worlds have ever seen.

• Is perfectly okay with handing out candy to trick-or-treaters while Simeon and Luke are out. He does tend to scare the kids, though... He thought enchanting the garden props to dance would be a fun little surprise. He didn't mean to make that kid cry, honest!

"Solomon!" You stormed into the living room, where Solomon turned and meet you with a far-too-easy smile. "Why did some little boy's parents just show up at our door?!" "Hmmm... maybe he didn't like the candy options we gave out?" He lifted his hand to his chin, as if thinking hard. "They said you made him cry using some weird jumpscare prop in the garden!" "Oh, that?" He shook his head. "It wasn't a jumpscare prop, I just used a little magic to make one of the garden gnomes stand up and sing a little 'goodbye'." "What possessed you to think that would be anything but horrifying?!"

BONUS: LUKE

• Like Simeon, is moreso into the actual origins of Halloween than the holiday itself. Unlike Simeon, gets way too into it and takes it far too seriously.

• Everything scares this poor kid. He tried to exorcise a cardboard cutout that Solomon enchanted to move around, and later insisted it hadn't scared him that badly, he was just trying to protect the house!

• Everyone keeps harassing him to dress up as a dog and he does not find it funny.

"Luke?" You tilt your head as the young angel stormed into your room, shutting your door behind him with a huff and sitting cross-armed on the edge of your bed. "What's wrong?" "Solomon bought a dog costume for me!" He complained, turning to you. His jaw dropped when he saw the expression on your face. "It's not funny!" You slapped a hand over your mouth. "Right, right, no, of course not," you nodded, standing up and trying to hold in your laughter. "I'll go tell him to get a better costume for you."

[krispycreamcake]

Interview with a vampire:

A Sakamaki exposé

The Sakamaki name has long since been involved in political disputes in the human world, and with the current upcoming election, one has to wonder, what is his Highness, Karlheinz Sakamaki, doing to prepare for this election? Being the almighty ruler of vampires and overseer of the Bat Clan, one must wonder, why is our Highness, the King, participating in mortal public affairs. With no sight of his six potential heirs, many questions arise from our very own citizens who claims that the King himself, hasn't been to loyal to his own species.

Joining us here today, is critically acclaimed videographer and journalist, Decima Amadeus. She has been working on tracking down these lost heirs of the demon realm and have come to us with her research. Let's see what she has to say about this whole debacle.

"Throughout recent years, many have wondered exactly where have our precious princes went. Did they leave behind their duties, or were they pursuing something much greater than we can conjure? I'm Decima Amadeus and here with me today, is one of our guests, Reiji Sakamaki!"

"Good evening Decima, I do hope all is well...."

"I wish I could honestly lie to you and say it was, but with your father neglecting our race, it's hard to say anything is ever really 'well' as you say. Ah- speaking of neglecting, shall we move on with the questions?"

".......Very well then, let's begin."

"Fantastic, well as you know, everyone's been wondering, where have you and your brothers all been? You're certainly not in the demon realm anymore."

"Ah- of course. Well, currently we've been staying in Shimane, Japan."

"And why is that? I'd say it's a bit over a couple hundred years too long to be vacationing."

"Well, as you may know, none of us has been yet designated to take our father's place as King yet, so-"

"So you decide to run off and leave behind your kingdom? Without a word or a trace as to where you've all been these past years?"

"I'd hardly call that 'running off' as you put it. Our father simply decided that we perhaps needed a more quiet life and gave us many opportunities to prove to him which of his children would inherit the title of Vampire King."

"Wait- so then- ha! So let me get this straight, it was Karlheinz himself that shipped you off to the human realm and left you there for hundreds of years without saying anything? He was the one that decided this and still he chose to not notify the public even once."

"Well Decima, one would think that something like that was a much more personal family matter and that it didn't need to be disclosed to the public. Just because he is King, doesn't give others the authority to police his every move and decision."

"Except in this case it does. Mr. Sakamaki, in case you haven't picked up the newspaper yet, there's a mass famine going around. Our blood supply is low and yet no one has yet to make any official announcement, almost as if they weren't affected by it! My sources have led me to believe that the distribution of humans in the demon realm has been at its peak for the last 3 years, and still there's nothing to account for it, considering the multitude of hungry mouths, which subsequently happen to also be those of middle to lower classes!"

"..... While you may think so, I've no comment on the matter as I refuse to contribute to conspiracy theories. The fact of the matter is, my brothers and I have no impact on this, whether here in the human world, or there in the demon realm."

"It's quite funny you say that Mr. Sakamaki. You see, we have an external source that claims that for over 100 years, you've all been personally receiving a blood supply from the King himself, while the rest of us suffer from inflation and the inability to feed ourselves, to the brink of relying on animal blood, which has caused a minor epidemic of Septicima O8, which is a highly mutated form of Sepsis that can affect us immortals."

"I- I'm truly sorry to hear that you've all been going through this, but I still can't see how we can help. None of us can overrule the King and besides-"

"Overrule the King? Have you forgotten that it is your duty as a prince to inherit that golden title? For years we have suffered and yet, you six sit back and get pampered while the King continues to fail his kingdom! And now you claim there is nothing you can do? Have you forgotten the reason you were brought into this world in the first place? Or is it that you've been getting too overtly comfortable with the humans that your roles no longer hold meaning to you?"

"That is nothing but a fib! I already declared that I will not be participating in conspiracy theories against my own father! Being royalty does come with its benefits, that I agree, and I'm once again apologizing to those that cannot afford that luxury, but if I had known what was going on, I surely would have stepped up!"

"So you admit to not having any knowledge of the current ongoings of our society when it is on the verge of collapsing? And not only that, you're apologizing because you refuse to do anything while the rich get richer and the poor get poorer? And I've been wanting to ask this for a while, but when we originally called for the oldest of the Sakamaki household, we were turnt away and had to make do with the second eldest. Thus, further showcasing how lackadaisical you Sakamakis have been regarding our current world affairs."

"T-that's not!-"

"Cut to commercial......I need a break."

From author: I didn't want to make this too long in case it doesn't get any attention, so let me know your thoughts as I honestly want to make this a brief series where we interview all the brothers and certain truths get revealed. (Guys lie to my face and tell me you loved it)

[violetasteracademic]

On the different versions of Elain Archeron

*Deep breath*

Alright. This is a long one. So I went through the transcript of the infamous shipwar podcast on Spotify. I am not going to speak much on it, because it was honestly more disappointing than I could have ever imagined. Some of the worst takes being that Elain could still wind up with Grayson because he isn't dead and is still single. She could wind up with anyone alive and single, because SJM confirmed we have met her endgame love interest and that's it. She clearly doesn't have chemistry with Azriel OR L/ucien. Whoever she gets with next has to be a rebound so we shouldn't even be shipping her with anyone because she can't go into a new relationship without a fuck buddy first. I am going to stop here, because it was honestly over an hour of all of the worst takes I've ever heard about Elain. I do respect that Steph put an immediate stop to Ava trying to use Elain's pelvis as an indicator she and Azriel cannot be endgame, and refusing to engage in or platform that conversation.

It was a lot for me to take in at once. I honestly don't go into anti tags. I see a variety of takes because it simply happens, whether you want or intend for that or not, usually on Insta or tiktok where filters are less effective. I stay in my little bubble and frankly immediately block and do not engage with anyone who shows up in my comments to fight. I am extremely careful with my posts and tagging, and often ask my rebloggers to only use Elriel tags because I am not here to argue with other people online or convince anyone of anything. This is for fun, and more than that, my goal is to provide comfort. If I'm wrong about a fictional ship, I'm wrong. But if I made someone feel better and more hopeful during the process, then I'll never look back on this and be embarrassed about participating here. These are books. This is a fandom. I'm here for the joy. And yes, sometimes I get sassy. And when that side of me emerges, my hope is it can provide some laughter.

All that being said, while I can't say I am glad I read the transcript and overall wish that I hadn't, there is one piece I feel comfortable speaking on that I think distills what I believe to be the largest issue making the different takes people have on Elain's future so volatile, which is that the fandom has chosen to regard Elain as someone who either will be stagnant or move backwards to who she was prior to becoming Fae. Thus, having a completely backwards trajectory from her sisters. If this happens, I actually very much agree that Elain is boring. I just don't think that is going to happen, and I don't know why so many fans are accepting of the only confirmed FMC remaining in such a stagnant place. But let's get into it:

Essentially what we are seeing here is this:

E/lucien makes sense because of who Elain was before becoming Fae. I think what this fandom lacks is the ability to see growth or an arc in a traditionally feminine character.

We (Elriel's) don't expect Elain to become a warrior, but we also don't expect her to spend the rest of her days as a ball host and party planner/gossip queen living out her life as L/ucien's socialite wife without putting herself in danger. So E/lucien shippers are shipping a years old version of Elain because that is the version of her that makes sense with L/ucien. And there is this idea that Elain is the only one of the sisters that doesn't fit in or is unhappy, or wants to go back to being human or living in the human lands again. I've tackled that as well here.

I believe there are enough details in the books to prove that is absolutely not where we are headed (not to mention Elain has already killed a king, beat hellbeasts with her bare feet, and demand she be utilized to serve her court and find the Trove despite the danger, but I digress), but more than that, I think if people are honest about Elain being widely regarded as the most boring character, it makes very little sense to ship a storyline of stasis. People are very focused on who she used to be, versus who she is becoming, because they can't imagine a traditionally feminine character with no warrior training arc being good for anything but gossiping and hosting parties.

I don't want to beat a dead horse and re-write about the same points over and over, so if you are interested- I have broken down the grooming done to each Archeron sister and how it was deeply entrenched and part of all of them and their stories. Elain is likely to both use and overcome hers just as Feyre and Nesta both used and overcame theirs here.

Most importantly, Sarah has already told us that Elain's personality has been a mask, and that she has behaved in the way she thought wouldn't disappoint her family. But with time and safety, a new side of her will emerge.

Sarah showed us that she is aware that fans call Elain boring, and literally reminds everyone that she is not afraid to get her hands dirty and torn up by thorns.

When I see these conversations unfolding in the ACOSF bonus chapter, I see a different side of her emerging. I see we haven't yet seen all she has to offer.

I see growth. Emergence. Depth. Complexity. I see clarity that Elain's pretty, people pleasing behavior is not her. It is who she pretends to be to keep those around her happy.

I see her becoming more confrontational. I see her standing up for what she wants. I do not see her being set up to find her way back to the human lands so she can simply become who she was as a child once again.

It has already been established that a relationship with Azriel is pure risk. It could be destructive. It could threaten fragile peace and allies. Therefore, a relationship has been forbidden.

It has been established that exploring a relationship with L/ucien would resolve all of these pesky conflicts. It would best serve her family and her court and maintain peace. She would be exactly what she was groomed by her mother to be, a beautiful woman whose match and marriage will best serve her family. And her mother stated that it will be THEIR maneuvering's, not Elain's, that would win them an advantageous match:

Elain is not best suited to L/ucien. Her mask is. To believe that they are a good fit is to believe that Elain will not grow beyond being, as Ava says, the belle of the ball. A socialite. A beautiful woman who will marry whoever best serves her family's needs. To imagine Elain and L/ucien is to believe Elain will grow backwards, not forwards. Elain was eleven years old when much of this was established about her.

Elain was never intended to have a choice in her love life, but for her family to work behind her back to provide the most advantageous match. That story is playing out with L/ucien as Rhys has demanded that Azriel not interfere with the mating bond because of the threat it poses to the security of the Night Court's allies.

At the end of the day, there are two versions of Elain. The version of her that was groomed and pleasant and sweet, the version of her that will present herself exactly how her family wants to see her to keep them happy and pleased with her, OR the version of her that is growing stronger and sharpening her teeth. The version of her that may be able to utilize her smiles that can bring kings to their knees and convince anyone to do anything, just as Nesta used her dancing and political machinations, just as Feyre used her tracking and abilities, but will not let it define her.

What the sisters can do because of how they were raised does not inform who they love.

How they've been taught to be is not how they will remain.

And because I'm an Elain girlie first and foremost, I'd rather she start a goddamn war and burn the whole system to the ground to be with the man she loves and the man she CHOOSES for herself. I'd rather she say to hell with the consequences, and take control of her own life and her own narrative. I'd rather see her grooming be a tool in her tool belt that she now takes control of rather than a life sentence.

I want Elain Archeron to grow. I want her to define herself.

I want her to shed her mask and set the world on fire with her strength and her light.

The reason people are seeing two Elain's is because there are two Elain's. The author herself has made that quite clear.

I can't wait to see her tell us once and for all who she is going to be.

[lilyswritings]

fate — xix

synopsis: Keep your head down, focus on getting through your classes, and try not to die. That had always been your plan of attack when it comes to attending Kings Dominion School of the Deadly Arts. But your life plans get thrown out the window as you find yourself growing attached to the new kid who refuses to lose his compassion and moral code, despite the ruthless curriculum and vicious social cliques he finds himself surrounded by.

author’s note: thank you all for still being here!! your passion for this series has really kept me going, and i sincerely appreciate each and every one of you who's still here. i am still following closely to the show, but as we are swiftly approaching the end of the tv show (ruh roh!) i will be making some changes. without further ado, please enjoy part nineteen!

wordcount: 2,819

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || part vii || part viii || part ix || part x || part xi || part xii || part xiii || part xiv || part xv || part xvi || part xvii || part xviii || part xix || part xx

Marcus Lopez Arguello x Reader

     The dorm room is dead silent as you gape blankly at Petra. "No. Fucking. Way." You stare in horror at your roommate, mouth hung open as you attempt to process the slew of graphic information she just threw in your face. In response to your sheer outrage, she simply shrugs, black-painted lips turning up at the corners at the aghast expression on your face.

"Ew," You gasp, eyebrows furrowing as it seeps in, your eyes darting between your roommate, the sheets on your bed, to the chair in the corner, back to your roommate. "Ew! You and... Both of them? EW!" You stand up abruptly from your bed, eyes scanning the bedding below you in panic.

Petra's eyes twinkle with delight at your reaction to her news of what had gone down during the lockdown, when Lex, Billy and her, had been mere moments away from partaking in a three-way in your very room. While it hadn't gone very far, the sheer idea of something like that happening between your three closest friends, in your room, makes your skin crawl.

"In my room?" You exclaim, still processing, and she laughs.

"It's my room too. And we didn't do anything on your side... I don't think." She shrugs again, ducking away from the pillow you hurl at her.

You point a finger at her, mouth still agape at the very idea of anything like that happening on or around your personal belongings. "Petra Katja Yolga, I swear to God, if you ever have sex on my side of the room—"

"Whatever, Mom." She sighs, flipping you a middle finger, before her expression turns sly and a smirk tugs at her lips. "Besides, I feel like if either of us are in danger of participating in activities of the coital nature in this room, it's you."

Your jaw drops, cheeks blazing at the insinuation. "Shut up." You mutter, unable to form a cohesive comeback, and your heated cheeks and lack of retort just fuel Petra's fire, causing her eyes to twinkle mischievously as she plops down on the edge of your bed.

"Oh, Marcus..." She fakes a breathy gasp, falling back into the pillows, and before she has a chance to tease you further, you whirl around and exit the room as fast as your feet can take you, eyes wide with mortification as the sound of Petra's laughter follows you down the corridor.

Speaking of... You will the flush in your face to dissipate as Marcus turns the corner at the end of the corridor, dark eyes immediately seeking you out. "Hey." He smiles softly at you, and you reciprocate, heart swooping at the mere sight of his smile. Jesus, you need to get it together.

"You okay?" He takes in your flushed expression with furrowed brows and you bite back a laugh.

"Not one bit," You shake your head, eyes wide. "Apparently my three best friends almost slept with each other last night... In my room."

"What, all of them? Like, at once?" Marcus' tone is incredulous and you nod, pleased he seems as baffled by it all as you are, but then he ruins it. "Good for them."

You frown, smacking his shoulder lightly. "No, not good for them! My friends! In my room!"

He huffs out a laugh at your outrage, and it's only them that you notice there's a tension in his expression, a hardened look in his dark eyes that gives you pause. "Hey, what's up?"

Marcus makes a face, obviously not having intended on talking about it. "It's nothing, I just... I just got out of AP Black Arts and had it out with Master Lin. It's nothing serious, though, promise." At this, he slides his hand down one of your forearms, lacing his fingers with yours and tugging you closer to him.

Your brows shoot up, cheeks heating back up at the sudden proximity as you gaze up at him through your lashes. "If the monks catch us like this..." Your words trail off as he dips his head to seal his lips to yours, the kiss causing you to forget any protest you might have once had. Before you know it. his hands are on your waist and you're gripping at the lapels of his uniform, the world beyond the two of you lost to oblivion for all you care. You can hear Petra's voice in your head, cackling, but you shove it away, relishing in the kiss.

"If you're worried about the monks," He whispers as he pulls away, dark eyes glittering with mischief. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private."

You very nearly go along with it too, the air simmering between the two of you in the darkened hallway, but you remember why you were going to seek him out in the first place, and step back to give yourself some space to think — something you have proven to be unable to do at such close proximity to him.

"You —" You brush your hands over the lapels of his uniform, straightening the creases you didn't realize you'd made. "Have a shift at the comics store, if I remember correctly." He curses immediately at the reminder, groaning, and you smirk.

"Come with me." He proposes, hand sneaking back onto your waist, and you raise your eyebrows at how bold he's become — but then an apologetic look sneaks into his features, his brown eyes widening with a plea. "Plus, you sort of need to be there, Saya wanted to call a Vegas Crew gathering."

You feel the romance dissipate from the air just like that, a crushing reminder of the psychopathic killer at large and the incredible danger you all live in swooping in to ruin the mood. "Right. Smart." You nod, running a hand through your hair, and Marcus sighs.

"I was going to go change, do you want to come wait in the room?" You raise your eyebrows at his words and he laughs, hands held up in surrender. "No funny business, I swear." You roll your eyes, but nod anyway, biting your lip at the kiss he presses to your cheek as you follow him to his room.

Before long, the two of you head to the comic store together, only waiting a little while before Saya, Billy, and Willie all show up too.

The black and white photos Saya has sprawled on the counter make you shudder, taking in the horrors of what Fuckface has done to Shabnam's house.

"Jesus," Marcus finally speaks up, voicing your thoughts. "Is that Shabnam's dad?" He holds out a photo and you grimace at the image before you.

"His mom's probably in there as well." Billy says, and your frown deepens, causing him to pat you on the back with a less-than-convincing smile of reassurance. "All the more reason we have to do this now."

"Shabnam's house is rigged with traps," Saya explains, pointing them out on the photos. "Chester has seven to eight people inside, helping him."

You pause from gnawing on your thumbnail to look up at Saya. "Are we sure he has Chico?"

"He's not bluffing," Saya sighs. "He knows everything. He has to be getting information from someone inside of King's."

"Shabnam's parents." Marcus fills in, and you nod along, brows furrowed.

"What's stopping him from just..." You swallow thickly. "Sending Chico's head to El Diablo? If he finds out that it was Maria... That we were there..." It's hard to repress the shudder that wracks your body at the mere thought of that.

Marcus' hand appears on top of yours, dark eyes seeking out yours in an attempt at reassurance. "We're gonna need some serious firepower." He sighs, turning back to the group, and you nod. "Guns, explosives—"

"Y'all must be out your damn minds." Willie's voice cuts him off, and when you look up you notice him glowering at all of you, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes meet yours, and your brows tug together, before he scoffs and turns to leave the store.

"Wait, Willie—" You go to follow him, but Marcus puts a hand on your arm and gets up, exiting the store behind his friend. As soon as they both leave, you turn back to Saya and Billy, sighing deeply and sitting in Marcus' empty chair.

"We have to talk to Maria." You say, knowing full well it isn't what Saya wants to hear, and she grimaces but doesn't argue with you. There's a long silence that follows, where all three of you are inevitably picturing the various awful ways that conversation will go, before you finally let out a deep breath.

"I'll do it." You volunteer, causing both of your friends to glance up at you sharply.

"No offence," Billy starts, glancing between you and Saya. "But I think you're probably the last person she wants to talk to right now."

"I'm well aware," You shoot him a glare. "But she has to know what's going on. And I have to try to... To fix this." You know it's probably impossible, that this might be a death wish, but you have to try. You owe it to her to try.

"Tell Marcus where I've gone, okay?" You look to Saya, and she nods, one dark eyebrow arched at your plan. "I'll fill in on the rest of this later, but... I have to do this."

When you arrive back at King's, you forge a note from Juan to Maria, asking her to meet in the girl's bathroom, before slipping it under her door and running to the bathroom to lie in wait.

You are well aware that this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done, but you have run completely out of other options. As you sit in the darkened girls bathroom, you take a moment to fully wonder where the fuck your life went so wrong that you are now in a bathroom, preparing to trap the leader of the Soto Vatos and el Alma del Diablo's pet assassin, in order to have a heart-to-heart.

You are not given enough time to fully delve into those thoughts, thankfully, as the door begins to creak open and you spy Maria's shoes from the crack under the door.

"Meeting in the girl's bathroom is a new low, Juan." Maria calls out in Spanish, and you grimace as you swing the door shut and plant yourself in front of it, revealing your ruse to her.

She wheels around with her fan poised in front of her, expression morphing from one of surprise into rageful apprehension, and you throw your hands up placatingly.

"I know how this looks, and I'm sorry, I just really need you to hear me out and I knew you would never agree to talk with me." Your words tumble into each other in their haste to leave your mouth, and you sigh deeply before oh-so-slowly pulling open your blazer to show her the lack of knives tucked into the lining.

Coming unarmed to this might have been a suicidal move, but you know it's the only way to get her to listen to you.

Her dark eyes narrow, scanning your body, and you nod. "None in the boots, either." You answer before she even gets the chance to ask, slowly rolling your ankle around to show off the lack of metallic glinting.

"We need to talk." It's a cheeky thing to say as you stand in between her and the only exit, but you need her to agree not to kill you before you launch into anything — and you would really like it if this continued as a semi-normal conversation between two teenage friends, despite it all.

Maria doesn't lower her fan, but she doesn't run to attack you, either, so you take a deep breath and launch into it. "We've been doing reconnaissance on Fuckface, and it looks like he's holing up at Shabnam's house. We need to deal with him before he decides to send Chico's head to El Alma, and we need your help."

Her eyes widen as you talk, obviously as displeased by this update as you were, and you swallow thickly. "We need you, Maria. We have to end this. You killed Chico to save Marcus... Now we have to kill Chester to do the same. And save the rest of us, while we're at it."

Bringing up Marcus is a dicey move, and her eyes narrow at his name, but she finally tucks her fan away and sighs. "When?" She asks, and you sigh in relief, lowering your hands.

"We don't know. Soon. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. We didn't come up with a full plan before I left, but... It has to be now." The word 'we' obviously holds the implications of the Vegas Crew, and you watch her expression twinge at the mention of the group.

"Fine. I'll help." She says, eyes still glued to the ground. "Send a message when you make the plan." She moves to leave the bathroom, but you hold your position blocking the door, and her eyes narrow.

"Move." She orders, dark eyes narrowed, and you shake your head slowly, summoning the courage to say the next words.

"I'm sorry."

Your words hang heavy in the silence of the bathroom, and her expression morphs into one of heartbroken anger, but you push through. "I'm so sorry, Maria. It was never meant to happen like this, I didn't want—"

You're embarrassed by the sting of hot tears that press behind your eyelids, and you watch her drop her gaze to the ground, fists clenched tightly as she folds her arms across her chest.

"My heart has belonged to him since that first night on the roof, Maria. You have to know that." You plead, stoic in your efforts for her to comprehend how out of control you've felt this whole time. "With everything that we've been through, you have to understand that I didn't choose this. It just... Happened."

Her eyes never leave the ground, folded arms pressing tighter against her chest as she scuffs the toe of her shoe against the floor. "I know." She whispers, and you take a breath, watching her expression.

The dimly lit room is filled with tension, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. You've just ripped the curtains back and bared your soul to Maria, and now the ball remains firmly in her court. Her silence hangs in the room, stifling any hope for reconciliation.

Seconds turn to minutes as you both stand there, locked in a moment of profound uncertainty. Maria's hair falls over her face, obscuring her eyes as she continues to avoid your gaze. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, weighing the years of shared secrets and experiences against this revelation.

Finally, she breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "I know," Maria repeats, her voice tinged with bitterness and resentment. "I've always known. I'm not an idiot. I see it in the way you look at him, the way you two..." She sighs again, dark eyes boring holes into the linoleum tile below her. Her words are sharp, filled with a sense of betrayal.

You nod, the weight of your confession still bearing down on you. "But I never wanted it to be like this, Maria. I never wanted to hurt you."

Maria finally looks up, her eyes meeting yours with a cold, unyielding glare. "You should have thought about that before you let it happen," she hisses. "I can't believe you would let me... You let me get my heart broken."

You take a step closer to her, reaching out to gently touch her arm, but she pulls away, her expression hardening. "Maria..." Your chest feels wounded, the sharpness in her eyes driving daggers into your heart. "I love you. I always will. But I can't change how I feel about him." Hot tears begin to fill your eyes as you shake your head fervently. "I wish I could."

Those words ring the truest for the both of you, and you both know it. Your shared love for this boy has caused boundless issues, invited danger and darkness into your lives, and yet as the bond between the two of you breaks in front of your eyes, you can share in the same hopeless adoration of the same idiotic man.

Tears well up in Maria's eyes, and this time, she lets them flow freely. "That isn't enough..." she says, her voice trembling with anger. "I need time. I need to figure this out."

You nod, feeling the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you, and she spares you one last cold glance before she swipes the tears from her face and storms out of the bathroom. The future is uncertain, but it seems clear to you now that your friendship has been irreparably damaged.

[unanswered-stars]

This is for you @jules-writes-stories

Prythian’s Olympic Roster

Rhysand - Pentathlon: if he can’t be the best at them all he isn’t the best at all.

Feyre - nothing: let’s be honest, you all thought I was going to put Archery but Feyre has been a little too preoccupied with Rhysand ever since they got mated to really hone her skills to that next level. Not to mention that she is freshly postpartum.

Nyx - baby: His parents take full advantage of the Olympic Village Nursery (thank you Allyson Felix and Pampers) for some playtime between sporting events. Favourite activity, carrier naps during every single one of his dad's events no matter how much Feyre tried to keep him awake. He only wakes up to watch Auntie Nesta, much to his parents dismay.

Elain - Artistic Gymnastics: On a team with Gywn, after all that’s what those “pliable bones” are for right SJM? Nuala, Cerridwen, and LoA round out their team of five. Elain’s best event is bar. Gwyn is beam. Nuala and Cerridwen are Vault and beam respectively. And LoA is the star of the show, winning All Around as well as Floor finals. Team FAAFO.

Cassian - Rugby: this man loves a good team sport and personally helped most of the other males who qualified for the team. First all Illyrian team to make the Olympics.

Nesta - Synchronized Swimming: Taking those dancing skills and eight point stars to the pool. All Valkyrie team. Wings and water, who knew it was such a good combo. She also qualified to be the female fencer for the Night Court due to the hours of practice put in being Azriel’s partner but declined in favor of participating in something that she could do with all of her friends. She recommended a Hewn City female , one of Mor’s younger cousins that she met during a Solstice Ball.

Azriel - Fencing: Being completely covered for his event only adds to the mystery of the Shadowsinger. His shadows like to do funny dance routines on his shoulder while he is in a match to distract his opponents. Truly he loves surfing but didn’t want to be in a different location than Eris for the duration of the Olympics. He caused quite the upset when he announced he would be competing under the Autumn Court his new place of residence and home of his mate.

Eris - Cycling Road: Of course he won both Road and Timed. This is coming straight off of his fresh Tour De France Bronze a month prior. (Please look up Remco Evenepoel, he actually did that this year.)

Lucien - High Jump: This boy is tall and gangly and inherited his daddy’s thighs. He plays on the Olympic Refugee team because every court was fighting over wanting him on their team.

Tamlin - Climbing: Boulder and Lead. If his claws pop out and help him get just a bit of a better grip no one is the wiser.

Helion - Weightlifting: It’s all in the thighs.

Thesan - cheerleader: For his lover who is the team captain for the Dawn Court Male volleyball team. Thesan always wears long layers, hat, and sunglasses in hopes of not being noticed but he can’t help but emitting a soft glow every time his lover encourages and hypes up the other players on his team.

Kallias - refuses to participate in Summer sports off of principle but is the biggest fan during Viviana’s event. As soon as she is done competing he whisks her away to see the sights and sounds of Paris.

Viviana - Beach Volleyball: on a duo with her sister. She prefers sand to snow and Kallias teases her relentless about it.

Mor - Equestrian: Her secret manor is actually a horse ranch. She is a horse girly at heart and despite the Night Court uniform being black and silver hers is obviously blood red. Everyone keeps mistaking her for Autumn Court in interviews which makes her unreasonably angry.

Tarquin - Swimmer: preferred stroke is breaststroke but he is the IM king. Think Summer McIntosh/Leon Marchand.

Cresseida - Swimming: long distance queen, world record holder in the 800 and 1500. Oh and she does open water swimming too. The stamina and determination, yep. The Katie Ledecky of Prythian.

Varian - Synchronized Diving: tried to get Cressedia to do synchronized diving with him and Amren eventually had to break it to him slowly that they don’t have mixed synchronized diving events. He cried for a week after that because he loves his cousin and didn’t want to go to the Olympics without her. Aodh, Vanserra brother, is now his partner in the 10m platform.

Amren: sits in the stand and cheers with Feyre. Refuses to hold Nyx. The only time she gets out of her chair to stand and cheer is during Varian and Aodh’s diving. Everyone assumes it is for Varian but really it’s for Aodh. If Amren were to ever admit she had a best friend Aodh would claim that title.

Jurian - Penathlon: Actually a professional boxer but decided to do the Penathlon just to bother Rhys. Obviously he wins gold.

Vassa - Rowing: Women’s Eight. Team leader for all of Koschie’s girls. Koschie lake is secretly the most elite training ground for rowers. Koschie is the encouraging dad coach.

Alis - Kite Sailing: Because she is literally cooler than anyone else. Never wins but she has the best time. Her nephews can be heard cheering even from all the way across the water.

Briar - Judo: Tamlin is her trainer and she beats him every time.

Bryaxis - tried joining the rugby team because he heard Cassian was the team leader. Really just wants to be BFF’s with Cassian but the general keeps running away and Bryaxis can’t figure out why. The Night Court loses their game when Cassian spots him in the stand during their final and is frozen in place for hours after their game until Nesta can come collect him after her and the Valkyries are done their event for the day.

Nuan - Hurdles: Girl is fast and she’s got the jumps. She and Lucien poke fun at each other during their training on the track.

Madja does not compete and is a medic for literally every event.

Mirrell and Clotho are the judges of gymnastics, diving, and synchronized swimming.

Kier and Breon were on Male’s Double Badminton team. They switched which court they would play for each Olympics. The only opposing team was the Bone Carver and the Weaver. Upon their deaths Badminton was been removed from the Olympic roaster and their “legacy” was wiped from the ledger.

My OC Vanserra Brothers

Aodh - Synchronized Diving: Emissary of the Autumn Court living in Summer and has temporary citizenship. Agreed to dive with Varian in hopes of catching the eye of a certain Summer Court fae. He really could not care less about the Olympics.

Caradoc - Shooting and Skateboarding: 10m Air pistol. He could outshoot Feyre with his eyes closed. His style of shoot is exactly the same as Yusuf Dikec from Turkey. Skateboarding is a skill he learned from a very special someone and is competing in their memory. Everyone is absolutely terrified of him except for Gwyn.

Matthan - Trampoline: The boy has springs in his feet and his head is permanently in the clouds.

*special note from game hosts - the inclusion for Breaking this year is in memory of Andras who bravely sacrificed himself so that Tamlin would have a chance of breaking the curse and set into motion the events that has shaped Pythian today. High Lord Tamlin was adamant about honoring his sacrifice as “we would all be dead if not for him.” Break dancing was one of Andras favourite hobbies. Who knew that breakdancing to the fiddle could be so fun?

To all those we have lost in the past four years we honor them.

I think I got everyone but let me know if I forgot anyone. Have your own roster? Please tag me!

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Denouement (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Art by the lovely and talented: @barbiedragon be sure to take a look at the moodboard at then end, too!

When the daughter of Lord Swann is sent to King’s Landing to find a match to improve her family’s damaged reputation, Prince Aegon is eager to learn whether she takes after her famous cousin, the Black Swann of Lys. But he learns more than he ever wanted to - about her, and himself.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x House Swann!Reader

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, attempted rape/non-con, Aegon swears a bunch

This is my submission for the @hotd-bigbang ! Shout out to everyone who participated, especially @ewanmitchellcrumbs for being an amazing organizer!

Denouement

Aegon was sprawled across his bed, entirely unclothed and clutching a mostly empty bottle of wine. How much of the wine he had drunk, and how much of it had sloshed down his chin and chest to dampen the sheets below him, he neither knew nor cared.

He had planned to go back to Fleabottom and find a cheap cunt or two to relieve him of his frustrations. Yet every time he tried to get off the bed, it was like some invisible force pushed him back down into the mattress. He simply could not get up if he tried – and he did try.

Well, he tried once.

But it was hot, and the wine was very good. Besides, there were plenty of women in the Red Keep for him to choose from, even though they wouldn’t be quite as easy as the whores. He decided that after a short nap, he’d go find one. Or perhaps one would come to him – it was about the time of day when a maid or two would come to replace his bedding, after all.

He was just about to doze off into a dream of forever burying himself in some woman’s soft, enormous breasts when trumpets blared from the courtyard below, startling him so much that his poor wine bottle tumbled to the floor and broke apart.

“Oh, fuck off!” he shouted to no one in particular.

The blaring noise had set his ears ringing and his head aching, making it entirely impossible for him to now find sleep. He slung his arm over his eyes and let out a protracted groan of extreme displeasure. What was supposed to be a relaxing day of drinking and fucking was now thoroughly ruined.

More noise began to float up to his window from the courtyard. Infuriated and somewhat vengeful, Aegon crawled across the bed and draped himself over its edge to grab another bottle of wine – this one empty, but intact. He had it raised behind his head, ready to send it through the window when he finally heard what the voice in the courtyard was saying.

The Lord Matthos Swann, and his daughter, Lady Swann.

Swann… Aegon knew that name somehow. It prickled something in his memory that he was, at this moment, too drunk to reach. But the prickling was enough to bother him, enough to make him drop his bottle and slump back into his sheets, close his eyes, and try to sort through the chaotic workings of his mind.

He did not know why this particular piece of information was so important for him to remember, but it felt important nevertheless. So much so that when two little maids came to change his bedding, Aegon shouted at them to leave rather than attempt to bring one of them into his bed.

Helaena came and went, reminding him that there was to be a welcome feast for the noble houses that were just arriving in the capital, and he was expected to attend. He rolled over and clamped his pillow around his head, and she soon left.

It was not until the sun had nearly set and the wine had nearly faded from his blood that Aegon howled with triumph as he sat bolt upright and threw his pillow in the air in glee.

“Johanna Swann!” he exclaimed as he fell onto his back, a wide grin on his face as he stared at his ceiling, remembering the bawdy tales he’d heard of the Black Swan of Lys.

He had only been a babe when Lady Johanna was kidnapped by pirates of the triarchy. They’d asked for a ransom from her uncle, but he refused, and she was then sold as a courtesan in the most infamously libidinous city in the world. Since then, she had become the most powerful person in the city, all thanks to her apparently magical cunt. Every so often, her latest doings would appear in the gossip of the Red Keep.

Oh, how some of those tales titillated Aegon when he was young. He had even encountered a small portrait of Johanna, hung in a place of honor at one of his former favorite brothels as if she were a goddess.

But it couldn’t be Johanna herself, he realized with no small amount of disappointment. She would have been announced on her own, not as merely the daughter of Lord Swann.

Who was it, then? A cousin, a sister, or maybe some distant relation brought into the family to try and repair their reputation?

Whoever it was, Aegon instantly decided that he not only needed to meet her, but he would have to sample her as well, to determine whether Johanna’s prowess was her achievement alone, or if it was a skill this new Lady Swann would possess, too.

-

When Aegon arrived in the Great Hall, his hair was still visibly damp from dunking his head into the cold water of his washbasin in a hasty attempt to make himself at least somewhat presentable. The formal introductions had already finished, and the meal was halfway over. He received a quiet scolding from his mother as he slipped into his seat, but she seemed relieved that he’d shown up at all, so it could have been much worse.

His father, as always, ignored him entirely. Not even a look of greeting to his firstborn son.

As soon as he sat, Helaena turned to him and held out a stuffed beetle that she’d snuck into the Great Hall. It must have been a new one, for he had not seen it before. It had black and white stripes that extended across its body from tail to antennae, save for one white patch with only a circle of black in it. With its neat appearance and long antennae, it was very nearly elegant – for a bug.

“Very pretty, Hel,” he whispered, giving her the best smile he could when he was looking at an insect just before eating.

Helaena smiled back, pride shining in her eyes. Then her face went blank, and her hands tremored slightly. She’d had episodes like this before, even when she was too young to speak. It was during these that she rambled nonsensical words that Aegon could never understand.

“Black and white, death and life, evil and good,” she whispered. “Neither triumph. All fades to gray.”

Aegon cringed slightly, usually her ramblings weren’t so negative. They usually made him feel uncomfortable, but something about these particular words greatly disturbed him. He shivered, as if a cold wind brushed against the back of his neck. He gave Helaena a weak smile and turned to his food.

It took him a while – and half a chicken, two rolls of bread slathered with butter, and a pile of vegetables that he only ate so his mother wouldn’t scold him – to brush off the last of his unsettlement and finally look across the gathered nobles scattered at the four great tables that had been set in the Great Hall.

Unfortunately, he looked up just as servants were moving those tables to make room for a dance floor, and what was a smattering of bright colors soon became a whirling, twirling mass of more colors than Aegon could count or name. Reds, blues, greens, oranges, obnoxiously bright yellows, and even a few pinks and purples all swirling together in an ostentatious and nauseating display.

However, it made it easier for Aegon to spot his target for the night. For though she did wear a gown to match the heraldry of her house, the Swann colors were simply black and white.

Aegon’s wine-blurred vision cleared as he finally set eyes on her.

This young Lady Swann was beautiful.

And yet she bore little resemblance to the depiction of the Black Swan that he’d seen in the brothel. Her coloring was different, her features softer, and her eyes – demurely downcast – far kinder.

Despite her beauty, there was not a single hint of a seductress in her.

Her gown proved as much. It was finely made and surely expensive, but there far too much of it – a neckline more prudish than even his mother’s, long voluminous sleeves that hid her hands, and a puffy mountain of skirts that left her figure a mystery.

One that Aegon was not quite sure was worth solving.

Still, his curiosity was piqued. At least enough to keep an eye on her while he perused what were certainly easier options.

Nearly every detail he learned about her was a disappointment. She was very intelligent. She was pious. She was obedient – although that was something he could turn into an asset. Even her sobriquet, ‘The White Swan,’ was dull. ‘The Black Swan’ was far more intriguing. A white swan was just an ordinary bird.

She was nothing like her more famous cousin. Or sister. He still hadn’t figured that out.

What was the point of coming here, then? Aegon supposed he at least looked nice and clean for when he inevitably snuck out to the Street of Silk. The girls were always more pleasant when he was clean.

“You appear unusually deep in thought, brother.”

Indeed, he had been so busy deciding where on the Street he wanted to go tonight that he didn’t see Aemond approaching until he spoke.

Aegon scowled and took a long drink from his wine to give himself time to concoct an answer. “Just observing the new arrivals.”

“Observing them for what purpose, exactly?” Aemond asked, looking briefly at Helaena, who was still sitting in her chair and not-so subtly playing with whatever insect she had brought with her.

Aegon narrowed his eyes as he understood the implication behind that glance. Why must Aemond always harp on about this if Helaena herself didn’t give a shit?

“I may be a married man, but that does not mean I cannot appreciate beauty when I see it.”

“If only you stopped at mere appreciation.”

“At least I am able to comprehend the beauty of a woman, and possess the skills to do something about it,” Aegon snapped back. A low blow, perhaps, not that he cared all that much if he hurt Aemond’s feelings. If he even had them.

But Aemond did not snap back, nor did he retreat to sulk on his own or to dote on Helaena. He sighed and turned back to the crowd. “Many young ladies arrived today. Is there one in particular who has caught your eye?”

Aegon’s brows rose in surprise. Not since their trip to the Steet of Silk on Aemond’s thirteenth nameday had he asked his elder brother about women. Or even really mentioned one – at least, not one that they weren’t related to. He even once said that he never wanted to see another person naked ever again.

“And why do you care, Aemond?” Aegon noted the glimmer of resigned frustration on his brother’s face and broke into a wide smile. “Oh! Have mother and Otto finally declared that you must find a bride?”

“Hmm.”

“Aha! That means yes!” Aegon exclaimed. Perhaps coming here would not be a waste, if he had the opportunity to watch Aemond attempt to flirt with various ladies. “Did you actually think you could remain unmarried forever?”

Aemond sighed. “One can hope. Will you please answer my question now?”

Looking back at the dancing crowd, Aegon considered the question. There was a lovely brunette in a shiny green dress. A stunning blonde in red. A girl with piercing blue eyes wearing pink. And one young lady with the most magnificent breasts he’d ever seen threatening to spill from her yellow dress at any moment.

Yet even with all the delicious treats in front of him, his eyes kept going back to the girl in black and white standing to the side of the dancefloor, smiling at the dancers, but never joined. She had a very soft smile, her pretty lips curving ever so gently.

He knew she would never let him taste those lips.

But that didn’t mean she had to go to waste. A lovely, intelligent, pious girl who likely had as little interest in the art of the bed as Aemond might make a perfect pair. Though when Aegon turned back to his brother and opened his mouth, he could not say it.

Aemond raised a brow expectantly.

“Well, her, obviously!” Aegon pointed to the girl in pink with the blue eyes, then tapped Aemond’s eyepatch. “You’d match.”

There was a tense silence between them, Aemond scowling down at Aegon for a long moment before turning and stalking off without another word.

Aegon laughed to himself before turning back to Lady Swann across the Great Hall. There were objectively more beautiful women who would likely leap at the chance to gain his favor by joining him in his bed. Many of them in the very room where he stood. Yet he was most drawn to her.

Why had she captivated him so?

More importantly, how could he get rid of this feeling?

He forced himself to turn away, pour more wine in his goblet, and down the entire thing. The alcohol helped clear his mind as it settled in his stomach. Fully back in his comfortably intoxicated glaze, he was finally able to think.

The answer was simple: he just needed to take her once, confirm that there was truly no reason for this strange, involuntary obsession. Then he would move on to the next conquest – most likely that girl in yellow with the massive breasts.

Yes, it was that simple. It had to be.

-

Lady Swann excused herself from the feast early, leaving alongside those guests whose hair had long since gone gray. Her father only allowed it because she claimed the music and bright colors of the ballroom was beginning to hurt her head. In truth, she had simply tired of it all.

Crowds of such size had always overwhelmed her. Not for ordinary shyness, she quite enjoyed the company of others. That ended the moment she found out that the quick glances people gave her were not for the desire to know her, but for their curiosity about her – if she had been influenced in any way by her infamous cousin.

It did not matter that she had been only an infant when Johanna was captured and had had no contact with her since. Every so often, Johanna would send her father a letter, which was either ignored or thrown in the fire.

As a child, Lady Swann often wished that she knew her cousin. That Johanna hadn’t been kidnapped. That her father had paid her ransom. That some gallant knight had travelled to Lys to rescue her. That she herself had not grown up as the only child in Stonehelm.

No god granted her wishes. Nor the stars, nor the sun or moon, not even the Weirwood tree she had once visited at some keep her father took her to which she no longer remembered the location or name of.

So, she was alone. Sometimes, her father’s visitors would bring their own children, and she would ask them as many questions as she could before they left. She wanted to know everything about them – where they lived, what they did for fun, and what they did with their other friends. They always had other friends at home.

When her father told her they were coming to court for a few moons turns, she had been thrilled. Finally, she would be able to spend more than a few days with people her own age, get to hear stories from all over the realm, perhaps even make actual friends – ones who would not leave after only a few days.

But when they arrived, the stares were immediate. The disdain at her father for not paying his niece’s ransom. The pity for her, and the curiosity about whether she had been somehow corrupted by her cousin.

Making friends would not be as easy as she thought.

Worse, it seemed none of the young men even wanted to be friends with her. They were far more interested in courting her, and many of them were so persistent that it nearly scared her. And while the young women were polite, it was without much sincerity. They all looked at her in suspicion when they thought she wasn’t looking.

So, she feigned a headache and left the feast early.

Her father had remained behind. There were more lords and merchants he still wanted to talk to, it seemed. She had the sense that he would do far more to secure her betrothal than she herself would. Though she was at peace with that, she still hoped her future husband would be relatively kind and from an interesting place.

Suddenly, she realized that she had been so deep in her thoughts that she had wandered somewhere unfamiliar - in the intersection of two dark corridors. All the halls of the Red Keep looked practically identical, but she still had the sense that she had never been there before. There weren’t any windows nearby, so she did not even know what part of the castle she was in.

She stood there for a moment, wondering which pathway to take, when she heard soft footsteps behind her. She turned to face what she expected to be a servant who could direct her back to her rooms but froze when she saw who it really was.

Prince Aegon.

He looked different than he had at the feast. His distant, morose expression was gone, replaced by a sly smile and a low brow over hooded purple eyes. Even when she was still, he continued approaching, like a cat stalking a mouse.

Gods, her father had warned her about this. Had told her to stay away from the prince, and any other man who approached her like that.

She should run, she told herself. But where would she go? She didn’t know where she was, or how to get back to her rooms. Surely the prince knew the halls better than her and was likely much faster.

Her fear held her in place and numbed her enough that she didn’t feel it when the prince wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into a dark alcove partway down one of the halls. Nor did she feel the cool stone against her back when he pushed her against the wall and pressed himself close to her.

“My dear Lady Swann,” he purred, his voice low and melodic, even when laced with darkness. “You’ve driven me absolutely mad tonight, and yet you would be so cruel as to leave without apologizing?”

What was he talking about? They hadn’t spoken at the feast. He wasn’t even there when she was introduced to the royal family. How could she have possibly offended him?

“I am sorry, my prince,” she whispered, her voice seeming foreign. “For whatever I did to make you feel this way, I am very sorry.”

He let out a laugh that sounded half like a purr as he brought his face close to hers. He ran his nose along her cheek until his mouth was a hair’s breadth away from her ear. His breath was hot and reeked of wine. “How sweet of you to apologize, my lady. Though I am still not quite satisfied. But I know a way you can make it up to me…”

All the blood left her body, leaving her hardly more than a shell. This was exactly what her father had warned her about – what she feared most about coming to the palace.

Still, she could not run. The prince was far stronger than her, and she knew her legs would betray her if she tried.

No one was coming to save her, and she could not save herself.

She bowed her head and prayed to the gods who had never answered her. Though she expected nothing from them, she hoped at least one of them would watch, so she didn’t have to endure this alone. Perhaps they would even pity her.

When she finished her prayer, she willed her body to relax. Prince Aegon made a soft sound of surprise and pulled her flush against him. One hand rose to roughly cradle her face, while the other floated down to her hip. A possessive and entirely unmannerly touch.

“Please, my prince,” she begged. “Do what you must, I will not fight you. I simply ask that you are gentle with me, and that you not leave marks upon my body. I do not want my father to know my shame.”

She felt the prince’s body stiffen, his grip around her waist so tight her breathing shallowed.

Then he released her and stepped away.

After a moment to regain her breath, she raised her head to look at the prince. He stood several steps away from her, frowning. His eyes were distant, his confusion clear. He met her gaze and shook his head slightly.

“I…” He looked almost disgusted. At what, she did not know. In fear of what he may yet do to her, she remained still, only lowering her eyes.

He scoffed, then sighed, then he left.

She counted his steps as he retreated. Ten… twenty… thirty… She reached 47 before the sound was too distant for her to hear.

Still, she did not move. Her mind raced as she tried to process every strange thing that had just happened. Her fear. The dark look in the prince’s eyes. His breath against her cheek. His grip on her– both hard and soft. How he had stepped away from her with near revulsion on his face.

While she was grateful that he had done nothing but briefly hold her, she did not understand why. Though, did it really matter, so long as she was unharmed and unspoiled?

It may have been a single minute, or many hours, but finally, Lady Swann pulled away from the wall and once again began to wander, eventually finding her way back to her rooms.

She did not sleep that night.

-

Aegon was sprawled across his bed, still clothed and clutching a still corked bottle of wine. There was not a chance he would make it to the Street of Silk that night, not when he could not bring himself to open the wine or undress himself.

All he could do was think about Lady fucking Swann.

The way she had so entirely captured his attention. How her dress swayed as she wandered through the castle halls. The shock in her gorgeous eyes as she realized that he was the one following her. The way her body felt against his. The soft whisper of her voice. Her words…

What the fuck did those words do to him?

Most of the women he’d approached like that had fought him – screamed, tried to push him away, or hit and scratched him, or sometimes all of it. She’d not fought him at all. She’d practically gone limp in his arms, then gave him permission to do whatever he wanted to her, so long as he didn’t leave a mark.

It was that last bit that got to him – the no marks. He’d never cared what bruises or scratches he’d left on the women he fucked. Never even looked to see if there were any before either leaving or dismissing them.

But with her… the thought of leaving marks on her confused him.

In part, it excited him. Some buried territorial instinct, perhaps because of the dragon blood that was said to run in his veins, practically preened at the idea of claiming her so thoroughly. He wanted everyone to know that she was his. It was a feeling he’d never had with any of his previous partners.

The other part, however, imagined her covered in red and purple marks and grew furious. No one and nothing – not even him – should be allowed to hurt her in any way. She was too pure, too innocent. She was a perfect white swan, and he would let no one sully her.

He just couldn't figure out why he felt that way.

Since he first learned he could, Aegon had fucked as many women as he possibly could – women of all ages, shapes, and temperaments. He had never cared for any of them in this way. Except, of course, Helaena. But even that wasn’t an exact match to what he felt now.

With Helaena, his protectiveness was because she was his sister. He loved her, and wanted to care for her, but it wasn’t a romantic love. Hells, there wasn’t even lust between them. Their children were only conceived because they knew it was expected of them. It was a struggle each time, even for Aegon.

Yet he felt so much for this girl he’d barely met, who he had very nearly dishonored, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Still, Aegon would try. And the first step was to take care of his painfully hard cock, which had been fully at attention since he first saw his Lady Swann smile.

-

For two weeks, Aegon fucked as often as he could. Serving girls, noble ladies, professional whores, and even his fist when needed. None of it brought him the satisfaction he sought – the end of whatever it was he felt for Lady Swann.

It didn’t help that he saw her so often. She was at every meal and event, and even sometimes in an obscure part of the keep that he had been sure would be safe from her.

And there were always other men flirting with her. Handsome lordlings, overconfident heirs, even a few gnarled old lechers. He should have expected it, as it was clear her father brought her to the capital to find a husband, but each time he saw another man make her smile, or brush his hand with hers, or even so much as look at her with lust in his eyes, he wanted to run them through and spit on their corpses.

His rides on Sunfyre grew longer, farther, and more furious. It was not uncommon now for great bursts of golden flame to appear in the skies around King’s Landing.

Finally, Aegon broke. After sixteen days of desperate drinking, flying, and fucking, he simply could not take another moment of this turmoil. He looked out the window for a moment, letting the bright sun set his resolve, and set out to confront his tormentor.

-

Each afternoon, all the eligible young ladies staying at the Red Keep and in the surrounding estate houses gathered in the courtyard of the Weirwood Tree so the bachelors seeking a wife knew where to find them. Reluctantly, Lady Swann joined them.

By now, many of the women had already fully captured the attention of at least one man, so the gatherings were thankfully not as frantic as that first feast had been. And since no men had decided to focus their wooing efforts on her, she was able to simply relax with her back against the Weirwood, watch its leaves sway, and attempt to capture their beauty in her sketchbook. All in all, it was a rather peaceful way for her to spend her afternoons.

Until Prince Aegon again came looking for her.

The soft noises of conversation immediately halted, drawing her attention away from her current study of the many veins within a fallen red leaf. She looked up and saw the prince pushing aside lords and ladies alike as he stomped towards her.

He did not look like he had that night. Then, his gaze was full of lust. Now, those violet eyes only held anger. Terrible, bone chilling anger.

Several of those gathered in the courtyard fled. More still stayed, positioning themselves far enough away to satisfy decorum, but close enough that they would be able to hear everything. Though it was, in the end, unnecessary.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” The prince roared – so loudly that several birds left their perches in the tree and flew out of sight.

She was speechless, her heart pounding so fast and hard she was sure he could hear it.

“Answer me!” the prince shouted, now so close to her that she could see nothing but him. His reddened eyes, his flushed cheeks, and the furious set of his brow.

Her lips fell open, and she stumbled over her own name as she gave it to him.

 “You know that’s not what I mean, girl,” Prince Aegon sighed, pursing his lips and pressing her harder into the tree. “What did you do to me?”

“My prince, I have done nothing to you,” she pled, tears spilling from her eyes. Distantly, she heard yet more people leaving the courtyard, some of them wondering aloud if they should fetch a guard, or perhaps the queen.

“What are you?” It was like he hadn’t heard her words at all. “Some kind of witch, here to ruin me? Did Rhaenyra send you to destroy my reputation so she could ensure she takes the throne?”

She was so frightened that her mind was muddled, and in her frantic search for safety, she reached out and grabbed the first thing she could find. Unfortunately, that thing was Prince Aegon’s tunic.

He blanched and looked down at her fingers clutching the worn green fabric. When he faced her again, he did not look so angry – he looked almost afraid. “What are you doing to me?”

Lady Swann suppressed a sob and pulled her hands away. “I don’t know what you mean, my prince, please.”

The prince shook his head, finally taking a step back. “What you said to me… I don’t understand it. Why did you say it? What did it mean?”

“I…” She thought back to that night, the only time she had spoken to him, when she had said so little. “I wanted you to not hurt me, that is all.”

He frowned, his brows knitted together. “But you didn’t fight back. Why?”

“What could I have done to stop you?”

“But you didn’t even try,” he nearly begged. “Why didn’t you try?”

“Because my father warned me about you,” she answered, now savoring the grounding bit of the tree’s rough bark behind her. That pain was far more pleasant than this conversation. “I thought it would be… easier if I let you take what you wanted.”

Prince Aegon just stared at her. Not making a move to move closer or touch her. Like the very idea of someone near-willingly giving him what he wanted was unbelievable.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hardly believing it. Why did she feel the need to apologize to the man who had very nearly assaulted her, and who was now no doubt causing irreparable damage to her reputation. But there was something in his eyes that made pity wrench her heart. He was a wounded animal, and she could not let it die. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this way. And I’m sorry for whoever else hurt you to make you behave in this way.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

The rage returned to his eyes, and he reached out to seize her shoulders, pressing her against the Weirwood tree until she was certain her dress would tear. “I don’t need your fucking pity,” he hissed.

He shoved her once, then stepped away. “I don’t need anything from a whore like you!”

The gathered crowd poorly hid their gasps of surprise, and not so subtly watched the prince as he stomped out of the courtyard, somehow even angrier than he had been when he arrived. But they made no attempt to hide their stares when they turned back to Lady Swann. She could practically see the gossip forming in their heads.

Not wanting to hear their speculations, she fled from the courtyard.

At least now, she might not have to marry. For no one would want her after what Prince Aegon said.

-

Aegon was sick of sprawling out on his bed to contemplate the pile of dog shit that was his life. So, he let himself slide ungracefully to the floor, taking his fur blanket and an overstuffed bed with him.

Instinctively, he reached for a bottle of wine from the small crate he kept by his bedside. Alas, it was empty. He’d finished it all the day before and had therefore been so drunk he had not remembered to tell a servant to restock it.

It was probably for the best. He did not deserve the holy ecstasy a truly expensive bottle of Arbor Red brought him. Not after what he’d said to Lady Swann that afternoon.

How could he be so fucking stupid?

The obvious answer was that he was, in fact, fucking stupid. Yet it still felt like something beyond that. Something within him – the feelings he could not rid himself of – had taken away what little sense he still had, and stoked the fire of his anger until he could hardly see for his rage.

If he was a better man, he would apologize. But he was not a better man. He wasn’t even a good man – perhaps he never had been. Perhaps he was incapable of being a good man. Though, a truly bad man would not have considered that he should apologize.

Nor would a truly bad man be haunted by the warmth that bloomed in his chest whenever he remembered her final words. ‘I’m sorry for whoever else hurt you to make you behave in this way.’

As he gazed at the moon through his window, he had a revelation that utterly terrified him, down to his very bones – Lady Swann’s pity felt better than anything anyone else had felt for him.

-

Lady Swann had not been expecting anyone to call on her. Not a single suitor had called on her the evening prior, not after what happened between her and Prince Aegon. So when her lady’s maid announced she had a visitor, she was entirely unprepared. Her dress was old, but the most comfortable she owned, her hair had been left unbraided, and her eyes were still red from weeping.

What she was most unprepared for was seeing that her visitor was none other than Prince Aegon himself.

Quickly, and despite the fear welling in her gut, she curtsied. When she stood, she did not look him in the eye. “Welcome, my prince,” she greeted, wishing that her voice was not so wavering. “It is an honor to have you visit me.”

He laughed, a rich, deep sound. “Your manners are very fine, lady. But I do not delude myself in knowing that you are neither honored nor pleased to see me.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. He was right, of course, but his words were almost… kind? Or at the very least, not rude. Just when she opened her mouth to reply, he spoke again.

“Please, allow me to begin.” He waited for her to nod her approval before continuing. “I have come to apologize for my behavior. I have been quite rude to you – though that is a mild way of putting it.”

The prince sighed and let his shoulders droop slightly. “Your first impression of me could not have been worse. It was wrong and cruel of me to pursue you the way I did that first night. I apologize sincerely for that, though I know that is a great insult to forgive.”

“I most especially want to apologize for what I said yesterday. My words were harsh and spoken only in anger. I should not have said them in the first place, and certainly not in front of so many witnesses.” He wrung his hands, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I do not expect you to forgive me, but I hope that you will not allow my abhorrent behavior to ruin your visit. And I will take every measure to quell the rumors surrounding our encounter yesterday.”

Lady Swann was more surprised than she had been when she saw him first walk into the room. Not only had he apologized, but it seemed sincere, and almost eloquent. He was right, that forgiveness would not come today. Perhaps not ever. Yet she could not find it in her heart to hate him. At least, not yet.

“Why did you do it?” The question burst from her unconsciously. But she had to know.

Prince Aegon again sighed, then ran a hand through his unkempt, greasy hair. “As for why I followed you, there’s not a good excuse, I simply wanted to have you. At first, it was to see if you were as skilled as your sister… or cousin? The Black Swan, I mean.”

She felt her cheeks flush at the mention. Her stranger of a cousin would never stop haunting her. “She is my cousin.”

“Right, well,” he stared intently at her shoes peeking out from under the too short hem of her dress. “I wanted to find that out, but also, you were simply beautiful that night. And you are now, too, of course! But at the feast, I truly could not take my eyes off you. I needed you.”

“And yet you did not take me, as you have so many other women.”

“Yes, well…” He finally looked in her eyes again, but looked away not a moment later. “It was what you said, about not wanting me to leave marks. None had ever asked me that before, and imagining you bruised was simply too much for me. I could not bring myself to do it.

“But then, I couldn’t get you out of my head. Even when I was with…” his flush faded into a blanche, “No matter what I did, I could not stop thinking of you. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before, so I was, honestly, frightened. I let my fear turn to anger and my anger turn on you. I’m sorry.”

Lady Swann was silent, not knowing how to respond to the prince. He apparently took it as a sign she wanted him to continue.

“Then what you said, about someone hurting me and making me this way, that frightened me, too.” He laughed, the sound pained and inauthentic. “Because I don’t believe anyone made me this way, I’m just… rotten.”

At that, she finally found her words. “No one is rotten from the beginning,” she said, quoting something her Septa had once told her. “Everyone in born good, it is what happens to them and what they experience that rots them.”

Prince Aegon smiled. “That is a sweet sentiment, but I don’t think I agree. I cannot remember a single moment where I felt good.”

“For that, I am very sorry. That is something no one should feel.”

He looked at her intensely, as though she held some long-sought answers. “It is a bad feeling, yes. Though, you make me feel like not all of me is rotten. Like there is some shred of me that still longs for goodness. And you are so good…”

She smiled softly, unsure why a small thrill went through her at the words. “We have spoked very little; how can I make you feel that way?”

“I don’t know… but, if you are willing, I would very much like to find out why. And I don’t want to lose this feeling. If you would allow it, may I call on you again?”

There was something different in his eyes. Something that she only now noticed, as his eyes were no longer clouded by rage or lust. A great sadness – an eternal sadness. Like an entire ocean of tears, or an immortal grief.

She wanted to chase that sadness away. So, she inclined her head to hide her smile. “I will allow it, my prince.”

“Please, I would prefer you use my name.” He blushed nearly scarlet as he made the request, and smiled bashfully.

“Very well. I will allow you to visit me again, Aegon.”

-

Prince Aegon and Lady Swann began their friendship sitting in stuffed chairs on opposite sides of her solar. He was careful not to do or say anything that could be possibly misconstrued as a romantic or sexual advance. He wanted her to feel safe and comfortable. Most of all, he wanted her to like him. It didn’t matter if she ever felt the same longing he felt for her, so long as he could be near her, he was content.

After three turns of the moon, they began sitting on the couch together – but as far apart as they could be. Slowly, as she began to feel more comfortable looking him in the eyes, smiling at him, or even laughing at something he said, he began to return the gestures. He even grew comfortable enough to start trying to make her smile or laugh. Even though his heart sank every time he saw it, knowing he would never get to kiss it away.

After five more moon’s turns, they began to move closer. An inch every few days, until their legs were nearly touching. Aegon had to suppress the shiver than raced through his body each time they accidentally touched.

By the next moon’s turn, they hardly ever sat without touching – much to his delight. Some days, she would rest her head on his shoulder. Others, he would lie with his head in her lap. And on rare occasions, they laid across the couch together, with Aegon’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

He could almost be content with just this, not being able to kiss or touch her as he truly wanted to. But he knew it would one day disappear. She would marry, he would never see her again, and he would go right back to the way he was before her.

So, he cherished their afternoons together while he could. They never spoke about anything of consequence, but still, Aegon left her each day feeling happier than he had when he walked into her solar. And a little sad, for he knew he wouldn’t get to talk to her until the next day, and that one day, the conversation would be their last.

It usually took him at least a week to realize that they had spoken about something of consequence. Lady Swann had hidden a revelation she had somewhere within her gentle words, having figured out the source of his buried anger or a wrong that was done to him. Aegon never understood immediately, but once he did, he ran back to her the next day to talk more about how she knew, and what he could do to fix it.

He eventually came to privately call their meetings ‘good man lessons,’ for even though they never spoke of ancient philosophy or even religious morality, Lady Swan had a way of making him see more clearly the mistakes he had made and how he could be a better man.

He also came to privately calling her ‘hontītsos.’ Little bird. His little bird. The White Swan who sat on his shoulder and whispered her wisdom into his ear. Perhaps not the best metaphor, as swans were far too large to perch on his shoulder, and notoriously violent. But since it was only between them, he did not feel the need to come up with something cleverer.

As their friendship neared the end of its first year, he genuinely thought he’d been doing better. A better friend. A better brother. A better husband and father. A better son.

That had been his folly.

At the evening meal one night, he had spoken to his father. He tried to speak to him in the same way Lady Swann spoke to him when they first struck up their friendship, simply asking about the king’s day and if anything interesting happened.

Then the king called him ‘Daemon.’

His own father did not recognize him – his firstborn son.

He supposed it was to be expected. After all, the old man was decrepit and half-rotted beneath his gaudy golden mask. Surely that decay would have extended to his mind by now, if it hadn’t long ago. But still, it stung.

Aegon was the son his father had dreamed of, according to his mother. The boy fated to wear the conqueror’s crown. It seemed Viserys had forgotten that dream as well. He never forgot Rhaenyra. Only Aegon and his full-blooded siblings.

It was a hurt Aegon thought he was accustomed to. He remembered so clearly how his father had all but ignored him when he was young, especially once Rhaenyra’s bastards came along. He attempted to befriended the little runts to draw his father’s attention – to no avail. Though, he had been quite a shit in his youth.

Still, he had thought all his efforts to become a better man would make his father notice him, perhaps finally see him as a suitable son and or even an heir. He felt so foolish to think that. But he was comforted, in some small part, that he would talk to Lady Swann about it the next day. Then she would make him feel better. She would make him feel like the man he was trying so desperately to be.

The hours he had to wait to be beside her again were hell, but finally, he found himself once more lounging on a couch in her solar, his legs hanging over the armrest while his head was laid in Lady Swann’s lap. Her fingers combing through his hair was absolute bliss. Though they halted when he blurted out the sentence that had been clanging in his head since dinner the night before.

“You don’t want to be king?” she asked in disbelief, raising her brows in surprise.

Aegon smiled at the expression, she looked so pretty today. He nodded up at her. “To save my family, I would do it. But no, it is not what I would choose for myself.”

A short silence passed before she responded. He loved that, how she thought so carefully before speaking every time. “What would you choose for yourself, if you were given the chance?”

The question weighed on him like an anvil of iron on his chest. He had never even considered another option before. It had always been either become king, or be killed by Rhaenyra to eliminate any threats to her throne.

“I don’t know really,” he finally answered. “I never let myself think about it for too long.”

“Think about it now, then.”

He both loved and loathed how she challenged him. Of course, he knew it was good for him, but some days he just wanted to relax and bask in her very presence. She was the only comfort, save for his children, that he had found in this godsforsaken place. At least, since he had stopped drinking and fucking with abandon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the Street of Silk or had drunk more than a single goblet of wine at a meal.

“I’d leave Westeros,” he declared. “There are too many memories here. To many reminders.”

She thought about her answer for a moment, her eyes narrowing in the adorable way they always did when she was thinking very hard. “Wouldn’t you miss your family?”

“Yes, of course.” He began to truly think about the possibility, of how it would happen – How he could make it happen. “Perhaps I could take Helaena and the children with me. She would be glad to leave court, and the children are young enough that they wouldn’t remember anything before we left. Mother and Aemond wouldn’t leave, nor Daeron. But I would write to them often. More to mother than my brothers.

“I think I’d go to Braavos. I want to see that big statue they have and experience the cold. And I’d like to have my own boat to navigate the canals. That would be fun. I could be a fisherman! Though I’d have to first learn to fish… fisherman go out in the mornings, don’t they?” He looked up at her for confirmation. Of course, she would know, she knew everything, it seemed.

“I believe so,” she said with a mischievous smile. It was not one she wore often, but one he savored each time he saw it. “Which means you would have to learn to wake quite early. Do you think you could do so?”

“I could!” He feigned offense, but he knew she was right. Even now that his routine had changed, he still often didn’t wake until the sun was well into the sky. “But I’d have to find something to do the rest of the day. Hmm…”

Aegon stared at the ceiling, imagining what he could do if he was free of his obligations, if he would finally be able to do what he wanted. “I could learn to paint? Yes, I think I’d like that – to be able to create something beautiful. All by myself.”

She smiled down at him, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. The smile was genuine, he could tell, but laced with sadness. “That sounds like a wonderful life.”

“Of course, I would only go if you went with me.” He had not meant to say it. He didn’t want to scare her, not after spending so long rebuilding what he had broken with his first words to her. And yet, it was true. If he was imagining a perfect life, it would be incomplete without her there beside him.

“Aegon, I…” her smile had faded, leaving her looking down at him with wide, sad eyes.

“I would be too scared to be alone,” he said, raising himself from her lap so he could look her in the eyes. The temptation to reach out and take her hand was immense, but he resisted – he had already fucked this up enough today. “I’d need someone to talk to. Helaena and the children… I love them, but I can’t talk to them. Not in the way I do with you.”

She was silent for a long while – far longer than Aegon was really comfortable with. Then, she finally said the best thing he’d ever heard.

“I think I would like that, too.”

-

SWANN POV: After she tells him that her father would take her home soon, Aegon admits to LS that he loves her, and wishes that he’d met her before he’d been forced to marry Helaena because he loves her. Aegon comes up with an idea to keep her in King’s Landing

Lady Swann sighed in contentment as she laid upon the couch with Aegon in comfortable silence. She had not wanted to let their conversation end – not today. So, they sent for their evening meal to be delivered to her solar and continued to talk.

By now, Aegon’s eyes were closed as he rested his head in her lap while she absentmindedly traced the patterns of embroidery on his tunic, considering how impossible she once would have found the arrangement when she first came to the Red Keep. He had been so cruel to her those first weeks. She had been afraid of him. And now, she could not imagine life without him.

Did it make her weak, that she could forgive what he had done to her, and what he had tried to do? Perhaps she should have shouted his wrongdoings from the top of the highest tower, but she didn’t. And she could not bring herself to regret it.

“Hontītsos?”

She let out a pleased hum at the sound of the nickname, especially when his voice was so deep and gravelly from exhaustion. “Yes, my prince?”

Aegon opened his eyes, the peace fading from his face as he looked into her eyes. He looked unsure, almost afraid. It was a look she had not seen since he first came to her asking for her friendship and aid. She hoped it would vanish soon. She did not want to end this night sadly.

“Am I a good man?”

Her hand immediately stopped in its path as she considered the question.

“You have a good heart, Aegon,” she said, resuming her gentle caresses.

Aegon frowned. “That is not the same thing.”

“No, it is not.” She placed one hand over his heart, feeling it falter and race, and the other on his cheek to ensure his gaze remained on her. “You have done terrible, wicked things. Things that a good man would not do.”

He nodded, all too aware of his past evils. She watched his eyes glaze as he remembered his past misdeeds and knew how sharply his regrets pained him. His chin wobbled as he looked back up at her, tears slipping out of his eyes. “Will I always be wicked?”

“No,” she assured, wiping away his tears. “But when you act on what your good heart tells you to do, when you atone for the wickedness of your past, I believe you will become a good man.”

He smiled as his tears fell, leaving shining pathways on his face. She could not resist tracing them with her little finger.

“I think I am in love with you, hontītsos.”

Her heart skipped a beat, then another, before it began to beat again.

“You only ‘think?’ you’re in love with me?” She tried to keep her voice light and bordering on humor, but she did not think she succeeded.

“Well… I have never felt love before, so I don’t know what it’s like.” Aegon said, like he was talking about the simplest thing in the world. “But I think what I feel when I see you, or hear your voice, or feel your touch… I think that might be love.”

Perhaps she had fallen asleep on the couch, and this was some wild dream. “I would describe to you what love feels like, but I am afraid I don’t know myself. I have only ever read of how love feels.”

“Then tell me what you have read, please. I need to know.”

She did not look at him as she recalled what she’d read in her favorite storybook. “When you love someone, you feel it in your heart. It feels like it can only truly beat when you are with the person you love, and when you are apart, it aches for them.”

At last, she looked back at Aegon. “Is that what you feel?”

There was no hint of hesitation or doubt on his face when he smiled. “Yes. That is exactly what I feel.”

Again, her heart stopped. But her mind raced. This was real. Aegon had just declared his love for her. The man who had tried to take her virginity unwilling and publicly called her a whore, now he loved her.

Why did that fact make her so happy?

In the past months, he had become so much more than that man who had so easily made her miserable. He had practically become a new man. That man, she liked very, very much. It had been so easy to define love while she was looking at him. Was that because…?

“I feel that way, too.” Her words were soft and unconfident, but Aegon beamed at her, nevertheless. “But I –”

“No!” he raised a hand to cup her cheek. “No buts. Buts mean something is wrong, and how can anything be wrong right now?”

“My father is taking me back to Stonehelm in ten days.”

-

SWANN POV: Aegon tells Lady Swann that Aemond has agreed to their proposal. Overjoyed, she kisses him, and they make love for the first time.

“I need you to propose to Lady Swann,” Aegon told Aemond as he prepared for his morning training with Criston Cole.

Aemond stared back at him with a face like stone. How could he be so damn menacing with only one eye?

“And why do you need that?” Aemond turned his back on his brother as he spoke, carefully selecting a weapon from a table full of dozens of knives, daggers, swords, axes, and a few weapons Aegon could not name.

It may not have been the best idea to ask for this favor when there were so many weapons around.

Aegon sighed, “Because her father will take her home if she does not find a marriage within the next nine days.”

Aemond faced him again, staring at him as he ran his nail along the edge of his sword. “And why does that matter to you, brother?”

Bastard. Aemond had grown from an annoying twat to a despicable bastard – though he would never say that out loud. “She…” he sputtered. “She has become a close friend. She does not want to leave the capital, so I am trying to do her a favor.”

“So, I must marry her, rather than any other man within the city?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop asking me so many questions?”

“I will if you answer me.”

“Fuck you,” Aegon grumbled. Though Aemond didn’t react, it was clear he’d heard it. “It’s because… it would be a beneficial arrangement for both of you.”

Aemond cocked his head. “How would it be beneficial for me?”

“You said you would stop asking questions.”

“Your answer prompted more.”

“I hate you so much,” Aegon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was already sweating in the morning heat, yet Aemond looked perfectly comfortable and dry. “It would benefit you because it would stop mother and Otto from hounding you to find a bride. And you wouldn’t be expected to perform the normal duties of a husband.”

At that, Aemond raised a suspicious brow. “What duties are you referring to?”

With a smirk, Aegon whispered, “Your duties in the bedchamber.”

His eye widening, Aemond glanced around the training yard and lowered his voice to not be heard. “We would still be expected to produce an heir.”

“Ah, but there is another way to seed her with Valyrian stock, dear brother,” Aegon said with a triumphant waggle of his brows.

Aemond said nothing for a moment, then gave the barest hint of a smile. “I had my suspicions. Thank you for confirming them.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“I will.” Aemond sheathed his sword and began walking away. “Would you convey the proposal to her, I think she would enjoy it more coming from you.”

-

Lady Swann had been sitting on the same spot on the couch for so long that the cushion below her had sunk several inches. She simply could not move. Now when, at any moment, Aegon could walk through the door and change her life forever.

The sun had reached its peak when he finally appeared, a broad smile across his face.

“Aemond agreed?”

“He did.”

She did not know what possessed her, but she threw herself off the couch and into his arms, crashing her lips against his. The kiss was sloppy and unskilled, but full of hunger and passion. She figured that Aegon wasn’t put off by her lack of experience by the way he growled into her mouth.

He forced her to pull away to catch her breath, which was a good thing, as she would have gladly kissed him until she suffocated. With a smile, he brushed her hair away from her face and pressed his forehead to his.

“Why Lady Swann,” he teased. “How improper you are. Shouldn’t you wait to give me your virtue until after you’ve married my brother?”

-

She did not wait, much to Aegon’s delight. She gladly allowed him to show her everything he’d ever learned about pleasing a woman. To his surprise, he even discovered some new tricks in his time with her.

They spent every night together, making love until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Aegon introduced her to his children and Helaena, who were all immediately taken with her. As if there was any other possibility. And eventually, he became proficient in pretending that he was not about to stab Aemond when he saw him standing next to her, holding her hand as was proper for a betrothed pair. Eventually.

Aegon was happier than he had ever been. It was wonderful.

And it all fell to shit so fast.

The sniveling bastard who had taken Aemond’s eye was officially declared the true heir of Driftmark. After, the king commanded a family dinner, which had gone about as well as Aegon expected – though he did not think it would be Aemond who struck the final blow.

Then, the king did the kindest thing he’d ever done for his younger children, and promptly died. The relief was short-lived, however. Otto and his mother sent guards to pull him out of Lady Swann’s arm and truss him up for his coronation, which had somehow been even worse than the dinner.

Lady Swann had been inconsolable that night, distraught that Rhaenys and her dragon had come so close to killing him. Aegon promised the next day would be better, but it was not. Otto smashed her betrothal to Aemond so he could make a more advantageous match in preparation for the war Aegon actually prayed would not occur.

Aemond struck the final blow there, too. Killing little Luke Velaryon in the dark skies above Storm’s End. At least the betrothal with one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters remained secure.

But that slight would not go unpunished. Mere weeks later, assassins had entered the keep, and slew Jaehaerys, Aegon’s heir. Right in front of his mother and siblings. It was truly a war then.

No one could know what would happen, and no one was safe.

Aegon had already endured the loss of one of the people he loved the most, he could not endure it again. So, his remaining children, Jaehaera and Maelor, were sent away for their safety.

As was Lady Swann.

She had fought him fiercely. But their relationship was still not publicly known, and if the news somehow came out, she would no doubt be Daemon and Rhaenyra’s first target. It was for that same reason that Aegon forbade her from contacting him. He would send messages when he could – he had worked out an extensive, illogical route with Grand Maester Orwyle that would make them impossible to track. Even then, the messages would be few.

Eventually, she agreed to go. Only after Aegon had broken down in tears in front of her, begging her in a way entirely unbecoming of a king. But she had to be safe.

So, six days after the loss of his son, Aegon stood in his rooms – his old room, now – and looked down at the courtyard and his beloved got in her wheelhouse and went far away.

-

My love,

It had been less than a moons turn, and already, I miss you desperately. I hope you have settled back into Stonehelm well, and that you are safe and comfortable. Though I am glad you are safe, I still find myself aching for your voice, your smile, your touch. Getting them back is my greatest motivation to win this war.

As much as I do miss you, I told you that I would only contact you when it was necessary, and I will hold to that. In ten days, Aemond and I will be flying to Rook’s Rest to join the siege. It is our hope that this will draw Rhaenyra or Daemon, or perhaps both, to come to their ally’s rescue. If all goes well, which I am confident it will, we will cripple the Blacks so thoroughly that the war will be all but won.

Pray for me, darling. Though I am confident, this is my first battle, and I admit that I do feel somewhat nervous. But only slightly! You know your love is a brave, strong man, and I do not want you to think otherwise.

With luck, I will see you soon, my hontītsos,

Aegon

-

Everything hurt.

Aegon was burning – one moment with fire, the next with ice, as if he was torn between two hells.

It was hard to tell what hurt the most. Was it the ringing in his ears, echoing unending through his head? Was it the way his every breath seemed to shatter his bones anew? Or was it the impossibly heavy weight upon his left arm that felt like it was made purely from the God’s wrath?

He did not have time to decide before the world faded to black. It was almost a relief – but not one long lived.

His pain had not lessened in however long he’d been in a dreamless sleep. In fact, it seemed worse.

No longer was he frozen with the pain; his eyes screwed shut of their own accord. When he awoke, the bright light of whatever hell the gods had condemned him to shone bright as the fires of the sun itself.

There were others in this hell, whispering around him, but he could only make out their shapes against the brightness. We’re they his fellow damned, or his tormentors?

That question was answered when a searing pain ripped through his arm, worsening the agony it was already providing him.

Aegon screamed. A sound to wake both demons and angels.

They were cutting through him, slicing his flesh away bit by bit. When they had fully disassembled him, would they put him back together only to start again?

Oh gods, he was not in the hells.

His eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, and he wished he was in the hells. But no, that was Grand Maester Orwyle standing above him, a small, sharp knife in his hand. There was some Maester in training beside him, looking nearly ill as he held up a great bowl.

Aemond. Aemond was there, standing in the corner next to their grandsire and Larys Strong. They all stared at him in both fear and disgust. Aegon could swear he even saw a tear run down Aemond’s cheek.

Worst of all, his mother was there, kneeling by his bedside, his right hand clasped in hers as she wept and prayed.

Each slice of Orwyle’s knife brought a new agony, sending images racing through his mind with every pounding heartbeat.

The walls of Rook’s Rest rising on the horizon. A great army was below him. The shape forming in the distance, growing closer with each beat of its wing.

For a moment, he caught a glimpse of read scales. Caraxes? Had Daemon come? Was it he who had done this to Aegon?

No, not Caraxes. Meleys. Princess Rhaenys had done this to him. He remembered now. The sickening sound of claws ripping through scales. Sunfyre’s horrible howls of pain. Fire. Blood. Death.

What happened to Rhaenys? Had they killed her, or had she escaped? Aegon vaguely saw the massive form of Vhagar racing towards him. Perhaps after he and Sunfyre had fallen, Aemond had finished her off.

Gods, Sunfyre. Where was he? Was he as hurt as Aegon was? Who was tending to his wounds?

His throat burned as he struggled to force breath and words out, but eventually, he succeeded.

“Sunfyre… alive?”

It was Aemond who finally responded. “Yes, he is alive. He is fine, brother. Do not worry for him.”

Funny, Aegon thought, how his genius brother could somehow be such a terrible liar. It was a wonder how anyone believed his engagement to Lady Swann to be genuine.

Lady Swann.

Was she here? Did she know what happened to him? Was she on her way to King’s Landing to be by her side? Was she safe?

“Hontītsos…?”

Again, Aemond answered, his voice hesitant and words vague. “She is safe, should I send for her?”

“No!” The shout sent throbbing pain echoing through him like the ringing of a bell. “She can’t see! She can’t see!”

He did not know what he looked like, but he knew it couldn’t be pleasant. She could not see him like this, broken and pitiful. Not until he was strong once again.

His mother was asking rapid questions. Who was ‘hontītsos?’ Why did her sons worry for her safety? Why couldn’t she see him?

Instinctively, Aegon turned away from her, seeking to escape the questions which he could not answer.

It was a mistake.

He finally saw what Orwyle was doing to cause him such pain.

The skin of his left arm had gone silver, the metal shining beneath the blood and soot stains. No, not silver, steel.

His fucking armor has melted into his skin.

Now, Orwyle was carving it off, bit by bit, as though he was selecting the finest cuts of meat from a roast.

Aegon screamed anew, and he did not stop until darkness again swept him into a merciful dreamless sleep.

-

My Dearest Lady Swann,

My brother asked me not to write to you, but I could not reconcile myself with keeping you ignorant of this. I know it may cause you pain, and for that, I apologize. But you deserve this knowledge.

I am sure that, by now, you have received news of the battle at Rook’s Rest, or if not, that it will arrive soon. The battle was a great victory, as we were able to end the threat of at least one of my half-sister’s dragonriders. It is a shame, however, to lose a dragon as magnificent as Meleys.

Apologies, that is not the purpose of this message.

In the battle, Aegon was gravely wounded. I will spare you the details, as I have no desire to cause you further distress. However, I will tell that the Maesters say it is quite likely he will live, though they fear complete recovery impossible.

For now, he is confined to his bed and given a substantial amount of milk of the poppy to keep the worst of his pains away. But he is not well, and likely will not be for some time. It is for this reason that the Small Council has bestowed upon me the title of Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm, so that Aegon may focus on his recovery rather than the fight for his throne.

I will continue to urge him to write to you, but I cannot guarantee my success. When I spoke with him of you, he was quite adamant that you could not know the severity of his injuries. I tried to counsel him otherwise, but he stood firm. I believe he fears how you would react if you saw him in his current state. He would not want to frighten you or face your revulsion – which I have told him is not something you could ever feel for him.

If I cannot convince him to write to you, I will take up the duty myself. I know how dearly you care for each other, and I would be remiss if your only remaining connection was severed. As with Aegon’s messages, mine will likely be infrequent and brief. But they will come, my lady, I assure you of that.

I hope you remain well. I will pray for you and Aegon both.

With best wishes,

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen, Protector of the Realm

Lady Swann ran to Stonehelm’s Sept, the letter still in hand as she fell to the marble floors. There she stayed until the sun had set and then threatened to rise again, praying and weeping. She was sure that if Aegon died, she would die too.

-

Aemond sent her no good news. There were small victories, yes. But they were far outweighed by tragedy.

Helaena was still not recovering from her grief.

Nor was Sunfyre recovering from his injuries.

Maelor was dead.

Jaehaera missing.

Cole had been killed.

King’s Landing was taken, Aegon’s whereabouts a secret.

That was the last letter she received from her former betrothed. It was not until weeks later that she learned why: Aemond had been killed at the God’s Eye, and he took Daemon with him into the lake’s cold depths, along with both their dragons.

She was truly alone now, and she did not even know where Aegon was, or if he was still alive.

Her routine became nothing more than spending each day praying in the Sept. She ate only at dawn and then again whenever she finally returned to her rooms – sometimes at dusk, sometimes while the moon was still high in the sky.

It was a shell of a life, but it suited her. She was, herself, a shell of a woman.

Until finally the news came – in a letter written in a familiar hand.

Aegon was alive, and on his way back to King’s Landing from Dragonstone, where he had been since fleeing the castle. He had captured Rhaenyra, and with Sunfyre as his weapon, finally ended the war.

He was coming home, and he asked that she join him as soon as she was able.

…Though we are victorious, I do not find myself feeling so. But it is my hope, that once you are back in my arms, all will truly be righted…

She was in a wheelhouse by the next morning.

-

The landscapes of the Stormlands and Crownlands passed through the windows of Lady Swann’s wheelhouse in a blur. Though the journey to the capital took just over two weeks, it seemed to her that it passed in mere moments – though some days it felt like an eternity.

King’s Landing itself was little more than a mass of pale stone and red tile, the Red Keep only a mountain of rusty brick.

There was only one thing that mattered to her, one word that repeated in her head like the ringing of bells – Aegon, Aegon, Aegon.

The queen, or the former queen, greeted her in the bailey, or at least she thought she did. Others may have been there as well. But she’s paid no attention to them. She burst through the great doors as quickly as she could.

She ran through the labyrinthine halls of the keep with little care of who saw her or who was in her way. Thankfully, most leapt out of her way the moment they saw her. Only one person, a young servant girl she recognized, even spoke to her. She was grateful for the girl, for she had shouted that Aegon was now in the King’s chambers – he had not yet been moved when she left.

So, she found herself at the carved wooden doors of the the King’s chambers. Doors she had never passed through before. Doors which were the only barrier between her and her love.

Only a moment’s hesitation passed until she swung those mighty doors open.

Aegon.

Someone must have told him she had arrived, for he was waiting for her by the eastern window, framed in gold by the setting sun. He was seated in a large chair with two wheels upon its sides, his legs covered with a heavily embroidered blanket. His eyes still shone as brightly as she remembered, their corners wrinkled slightly as he smiled.

But that smile wavered, and his eyes filled with tears. For a moment, he reached out to her.

“They’re all gone,” he wept. His voice was rasping, and weaker than it had been. But the agony in his words was clear as glass.

She ran to him, kneeling at his feet and took both his hands – one precisely as it had been when she left, one now gnarled and scarred – and placed them on her cheeks. To let him feel her warmth, her tears, her life, which he himself had ensured.

“I’m still here, my love,” she whispered. “I’m still here, and I will never leave you again.”

Aegon gripped her tighter as he lowered his head, placing a gentle kiss to her temple before resting his brow against hers. “You’re here. You’re alive… thank the fucking gods.”

She laughed for a moment, until tears overtook her as well, and she simply held him and wept with him.

It was long enough for the sun to complete its descent before Aegon finally broke their embrace. He pulled away, his hands still cradling her face, and smiled sadly. “I am so sorry you must see me like this, hontītsos. You deserve more than a broken man.”

Her brow furrowed in anger. How dare he think such cruelty about himself?

“You are anything but broken,” she insisted, holding his wounded hand in her own. “You bear scars, yes, but you have not been broken. You have survived what would have killed other men three times over, what would have driven them mad. I do not see a broken man before me, I see a man stronger than anything. A man I love with all I am.”

Aegon gave her a watery smile, obviously struggling to hold back more tears. His mouth twitched like he wanted to speak, but it took him long minutes to finally do so. “I only survived it all because I knew I must live to see you, at least one last time.”

“I am here now, and you will see me every day for the rest of our lives. I promise.” She would ensure it, even if she had to move mountains to make it true. They would never lose each other again.

She placed her hands over his and lowered them to cup her neck – exactly as he’d liked it when he kissed her. Then, she put one hand on his hip, and the other on his scarred cheek. “Does this hurt?”

He let out a breath laugh and shook his head. “No. I fact, the feeling is distant, as if it’s hardly there.”

“So, will you feel it if I kiss you?”

“I think there is only one way to find out, hontītsos.”

She dove for his lips without hesitation, kissing him with all the pent-up love or more than a year gone by since she’d last had this opportunity. His lips felt exactly the same – thank the gods – though there were moments when her nose would brush against the raised skin of his scars and remind her of what had happened to him. But those memories only made her kiss him harder, deeper. She never wanted to stop.

It was Aegon who pulled away. Only slightly, so there was just enough space between them for him to speak. “Marry me, my lady Swann.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. She never thought she would ever hear those words for him. It had always been impossible. But now…

“You need a new queen,” she whispered in realization.

Aegon nodded solemnly. “And new heirs.”

“Jaehaera isn’t your heir?”

He laughed, though there was no joy in his eyes. Only grief. “After all that’s happened, I would have to be incredibly stupid to try naming a girl as my heir.”

She supposed it was true. Though there were few Targaryens left to contest the choice if he made it. Still, he wanted to marry her.

There were no more false betrothals, no more sneaking around the castle, no more lying to everyone about how they truly felt about each other. At last, they would be able to publicly declare their love for each other, to sleep in the same bed without fear of someone finding them, to be able to finally do everything they wanted to do, together.

It was far beyond the paltry dreams they’d allowed themselves. It was perfect.

“Of course I will marry you, Aegon. Nothing would make me happier.”

He kissed her again, and they did not stop until the morning.

-

Only a few days later, Aegon sat alone in the same wheelhouse that had once taken him to his coronation – what he’d thought to be his final damning. Perhaps it had been, but it was hard to feel like a damned man that day.

For it was the day he was to make Lady Swann his lady wife.

The morning of his wedding to Helaena, he’d gotten so drunk that Aemond had to keep him standing through the ceremony. If only he could still have them with him, to laugh about the memory.

He would not get drunk today. He wanted to remember every detail of this glorious day – the day that would forever seal his victory in this horrid conflict.

Though, perhaps he would take one or two sips of the wine bottle someone had put in the wheelhouse, just to calm his nerves. He truly feared that she would look so beautiful that he would forget his vows, or burst into tears, or even just faint at the sight of her.

So, he took one sip, then another, then stopped himself. He did not want to over-imbibe when he had not done so for so long. It would not do to appear out of sorts at his wedding. This would be a happy day.

The wheelhouse was halfway up the serpentine steps when he felt the first pains.

At first, it was easy to dismiss it as the result of nerves, or the winding ride, or even the burn of the wine in his throat.

But then it got worse. So, so much worse.

It started in his stomach, then spread to his chest. From there, it radiated through all his limbs and climbed up his throat with teeth and claws and rage.

He was burning again. But there was no fire. He was burning from the inside.

By the time he realized it was poison, he no longer had the strength to call for help.

He fell back in his seat, the goblet tumbling to the ground and spilling the tainted wine over the floorboards. Already, his breath was becoming shallow, his vision blurring, and his body numbing.

But he did not think of who had done this to him, or why. What did it matter? It was done.

One last word escaped his lips, one last thought echoed in his fading mind.

Aegon whispered her name as he realized he would not get to see her in her wedding gown.

Then he died.

-

Lady Swann knelt on the stones of the middle bailey, her white gown stained with tears and dirt and blood. Everything was perfect, and then it wasn’t.

The screaming of the footman had drawn them from within the Sept. Every person who saw what lay within the wheelhouse also began screaming. Except for her.

She just knelt there, unable to even climb into the wheelhouse to sit beside him – his body.

His skin had gone gray, a fowl, unnatural color. Veins were visible beneath his skin, a darker shade of grey. As if his very blood had turned to stone. There was no color on him at all, save for the lovely violet of his eyes, and the horrible stain of red spilling from his mouth.

Someone was saying her name. Whispering it. Crying it. Screaming it. But it was distant – as if it were being said across the narrow sea. And the sound of her name, the once familiar letters and syllables, now seemed foreign. Like it no longer truly meant anything. Like it no longer belonged to her.

She had been called so many things. The White Swan. Prince Aemond’s betrothed, then that poor spurned girl. The future queen. Hontītsos.

What would they call her now?

It didn’t matter. She knew who she was.

She was the girl who loved Aegon Targaryen.

But Aegon was dead.

[leggerefiore]

I fear now we need all of the men navigating NNN. My beloved man Cyrus would see no problem with the challenge and would probably call it dumb

Cyrus is victorious by default. His low libido makes it no challenge, after all. Though, he absolutely is not actively participating. He finds the concept dumb and sees no reason to indulge it. He just wins because he does not ever really seek sex unless it's to appease his partner or to cope with horribly strong emotions. Basically, as long as you don't demand sex nor does anything make emotions run high, he's winning without trying.

Grimsley is dying but trying his absolute damnedest. The gambler has the highest libido of the group and is the resident manwhore (before settling down with his partner… who now has to deal with his sexual appetite). Despite this, however, he loves a challenge. If you offer a bet to him about making it through November like this, he will agree. The price you pay will likely be something insane. He is surprisingly resolute about it all. He has trained himself to hide his emotions, after all. Teasing him seems ineffective. Though, he can and may break. In truth, it is a battle of his love of gambling versus sex.

Colress agrees. Why? Well, for one, he believes he can do just fine without sex. But, also, because this is valuable data! How will your bond with one another change due to the lack of sex? How will you react? How will he feel? He has read plenty of studies on the supposed benefits, but he is eager to see if they truly are to occur. Basically, November becomes a personal study for him. Be ready to he observed (as usual).

Nanu grumbles and says no. He is not having his schedule and sexual proclivity dictated by some internet meme. He is too damn old for that. If you want to go in on it, be his guest. He has handled his own needs before, and he can handle them now. Will not participate and cannot be convinced.

Lear is bewildered, but it is a challenge. He scoffs and says that seems easy enough. A month without sex or masturbation? Nothing in comparison to his training to be king. Behold his kingly restraint! (He breaks down halfway in and demands that you stop, too. He is about to snap.)

N doesn't know what you're talking about. He just blinks. Going without nuts for a month? He supposes that some people with nut allergies deal with this for a lifetime, so a month should not be impossible. Do not try to explain further. It is not worth it. He can win by default, too, since he's not inclined towards sex. He mostly meets his partner's needs in that department.

Volo squints his eyes at you. Why are you proposing this to him? He feels as if you are messing with him. Even if you try to explain, there is little to do to convince him. Wager the Azure Flute or something, and he might agree. His willpower is quite terrifying solely towards Arceus. Otherwise, he is not giving up sex for some frivolous challenge. Even pulling the Arceus's Chosen card fails.

Maxie ponders what the hell you are talking about and agrees because you make some comment about Archie being able to do it. Of course, he can go a month without that! He is a man of science and restraint. He suffers endlessly, and his temper is flaring. Magma grunts will beg you to call off whatever you did to their boss. He gives up nearly at the end.

Archie is going to refuse since he doesn't really see how that could be fun or anything beneficial to him. It is only when you mention Maxie apparently being able to do it that he agrees. He surprisingly makes it through the entire month. His mood is barely effected. Maxie is mortified when he hears the news.

Giovanni thinks you're insane, laughs at you, and says no. Then, when you mention it being a display of his strength, he reconsiders. Suddenly, he devotes his entire focus to such a thing and proving you wrong. He will make it through by becoming extremely pissy and by the skin of his teeth. His prize is locking you away for a day and making up for the lost month.

Lysandre supposes he has heard of something like that before. Yet, strangely, nothing can convince him to participate. It simply cannot be done. He says it is a waste of time and energy. (In truth, he simply cannot deny himself pleasure and uses sex as a way to express his love.)

[riddlerosehearts]

list of acd canon sherlock holmes things i absolutely love

(and am going to mostly put under a readmore because i made most of this list while rereading the entire canon so it is very long! listen i just think sherlock holmes is the best character ever and i need to share my love for him--)

immediately upon being introduced to watson he grabs him by the sleeve, starts excitedly showing off his bloodstain testing experiment, and claps his hands “looking as delighted as a child with a new toy”. once he finishes, his eyes glitter and he puts his hand on his heart and bows “as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his imagination”.

watson: “i object to rows because my nerves are shaken”

holmes: “do you include violin playing in your category of rows?” he asked, anxiously

he’s noted to be extraordinarily knowledgeable and zealous in his studies, and yet on the same page it’s stated that he doesn’t know the earth travels around the sun and once watson tells him about it he immediately decides to forget about it because it’s not relevant to his work. this is where the famous “brain attic” monologue comes in.

watson writes this list about him and then throws it into the fire in despair:

has a habit of laughing in a way that’s described as bursting into an “explosion” or “roar” of laughter

frequently does this at crime scenes:

enlists a gang of street orphans to help him on his cases, pays them for their work, and generally treats them as equals but also playfully talks to them like a general to his soldiers

plays the violin for watson to help him get to sleep

is incredibly knowledgable on anything from different types of tobacco, to the ways one's trade can influence the form of their hands, to medieval pottery and stradivarus violins. and yet, i reiterate, does not know the earth revolves around the sun.

has a tendency of waxing poetic about the meaningless of existence, particularly when he’s bored from not having any cases to work on

once said about a dog “i would rather have toby’s help than that of the whole detective force of london”

used the word “doggy” when speaking to toby

once told watson “i don’t wish to be theatrical” despite all evidence to the contrary

disguises himself as an old man just to play a prank on watson

watson: “i think i had better go”

holmes: “not at all, doctor. stay where you are. i am lost without my boswell.”

is known to wiggle in his chair when he gets excited about a case

discovers that a man has tricked his own stepdaughter into a fake marriage so he can keep her at home and control her life and inheritance. acknowledges that said man hasn’t done anything illegal but still tells him “there never was a man who deserved punishment more” and that he ought to get whipped for what he did, and then goes to actually get his hunting crop, causing the man to run out the door at top speed

let a criminal go free because it turned out the man he murdered was trying to force said criminal’s daughter into an unwanted marriage

was suddenly made to participate in the wedding of someone he was tracking for a case, came home and laughed about it for several minutes, exclaimed “well, really!”, laughed for several more minutes, and only then did he actually tell watson what happened

responds to the king of bohemia insulting irene adler and saying she’s not on his level by saying coldly: “from what i have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your majesty”, which is basically him saying “actually she’s way better than you, so fuck off”

refused to shake said king’s hand

built a pillow fort in a client’s house so he could think better

let a poor jewel thief go because he cried, because it was christmas and therefore it was the season of forgiveness, and because the case was really easy anyway so it’s not his fault if the police are too stupid to solve it themselves

always reassures clients that they can trust him and watson and speak freely around them

is willing to waive his fee for clients who can’t afford to pay him, because according to him his profession is its own reward

this entire scene from speckled band when he gets confronted by his client’s abusive stepfather:

this nice little example of the gentleness he often displays with his clients:

the adventure of the copper beeches. just, all of it. a woman he doesn’t know comes to holmes for advice about a potential job she’s interviewed for and they both agree it sounds incredibly sketchy, she says she’s gonna take it anyway because she needs the money, and he’s like “well i wouldn’t want any sister of mine doing something like this but FINE i guess, just please write to us and let us know if you’re okay and if anything bad happens we’ll drop everything and come help you immediately”, and then the job does in fact turn out to be super sketchy and they drop everything and get on a train as soon as she writes to them

sometimes spends several hours out on walks through the park or the town with watson just relaxing and talking with him for the sake of it, despite watson frequently noting that holmes doesn’t have much appreciation for nature

“we have had the good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. i trust that we may do the same for you,” he says “in his easy, genial way” to a potential client who’s clearly very upset and sleep-deprived

is completely wrong about a particular case and asks watson to remind him of that case next time he gets overconfident

is noted by watson to be very neat and methodical in his methods and way of dress, while simultaneously being one of the messiest people ever who keeps his tobacco inside a persian slipper and his unopened letters held up by a knife in the center of his mantelpiece, keeps tons of criminal relics which apparently somehow end up in the butter dish sometimes, and keeps countless stacks of papers and documents all over the place

tells watson anecdotes about his past just to avoid cleaning up said documents

deliberately knocks over a table, shattering a glass fruit bowl which then sends oranges rolling all over the room, and then blames it on watson and runs away

says snarky things like “when gregson or lestrade are out of their depth–which, by the way, is their normal state” and “you’ve done very well, watson! it’s too bad you’ve missed everything of importance”

laughs when watson suggests he’s being modest about his abilities

picked up a rose and got all sappy and poetic about it

more specifically, picked up a rose and said that religion can be a science which involves a lot of careful deduction, and that flowers are a source of hope and proof of the goodness of god due to the fact that they aren’t a necessary part of life but are still so beautiful anyway

recovered an incredibly valuable government treaty for a client and had it served to him on a platter at breakfast because, in his own words, he “never can resist a touch of the dramatic”

faked his death and then revealed to watson that he was still alive in a manner that even he admitted was unnecessarily dramatic

had a full-scale wax model of himself created and used it to fool his enemies

made a diagram out of breadcrumbs to explain something to watson

broke into a blackmailer’s house for a case because he believed it to be morally justifiable, and admitted that he always thought he might make a good criminal

held watson’s hand while they were burgling said house together

twice

allowed said blackmailer to be murdered in front of him by one of his victims and then refused to take the case when asked because he just hated the guy that much

“flushed up with pleasure” when watson complimented him

asked watson to sell his medical practice and move back into 221b with him after the death of his wife. and then secretly gave a relative of his a ton of money to buy watson’s medical practice at the highest price watson would ask for, just so they could live together again

was nearly brought to tears by lestrade saying he was proud of him

let a dog lead him around on a case, multiple times in different stories

was very gentle with a client who he knew to be the victim of an abusive marriage and allowed the man who killed her husband to go free out of sympathy for their situation

noticed watson looking sad and touching his war wound and tried to cheer him up by echoing his thoughts and providing a deduction of how he knew what he was thinking

mentioned watson’s sparkling eyes in said deduction

talked about nothing but violins and his favorite violinist for an hour while he and watson had lunch together

likes going to classical music concerts and getting lost in the music

does scrapbooking

chuckles and rubs his hands together when he’s happy

this:

takes getting called "the devil himself" as a compliment

let a killer go because he had only killed in retaliation for the unjust murder of his lover, and holmes felt that he might’ve done the same if someone were to kill the woman he loved

on a completely unrelated note tells a guy who shoots watson “if you had killed watson you would not have got out of this room alive”

also reacted like this when watson got shot:

went undercover to supposedly give a guy secret government intelligence documents, and then gave him a book about bees instead

frequently disguised himself either for cases or just to fool watson and was noted to be a great actor

once disguised himself as an old woman with a parasol

tried the best he could to talk a young woman out of marrying a man who had a history of “collecting” women for sport and destroying their lives, and admitted to watson that he thought of her as he would think of his own daughter

was prone to “imp-like moods”

sent watson a message to come over at once ("if convenient--if inconvenient come all the same") just so he could infodump to him about dogs

wasn’t surprised that a dog died of grief shortly after its owner’s death, because of “the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs”

listened with great sympathy to a depressed woman who wanted to tell him her tragic story, picked up on hints that she was planning to commit suicide, talked her out of it by convincing her that her life does have value and then called her brave for choosing to live

got lost in thought looking out the window at the publicly funded elementary schools and randomly went on about how he believes they and the children who attend them are beacons of a brighter future

made hot cocoa for watson

shook hands with a baby

retired to the countryside to live on a farm and become a beekeeper.

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfamily x male!reader

A 3rd part to the Court of owls reader, since it seems you were interested in a 3rd one. And also, just like you asked me, @xweirdo101x, here is a tag. Part 1 and part 2 are here

And also, you are free to send requests.

Summary: The family brought (Y/N) back home. (Y/N) isn't happy with the idea.

Warnings: (Y/N) is on house arrest, maybe manipulation, (Y/N) ignores everyone, attempt at escaping, "

(Y/N)'s eyes opened. He was confused, but then everything that happened came back to him. His father kidnapped him. His brother participated... And the other 3 of course... He turned his head. He was in his old room...

His shelves were still full of his favorites. 90 percent of the books were from Stephen King. He loved his writing. He missed these books. He tried to get up from the bed, but he was too weak from the sedative. He opted to turn his head.

His old desk was there too. Some of his old notebooks were still there. Were his sketches still in there? Or his notes that he wrote about an owl that visited his window every night? Maybe that owl was a sign of his future and what was to come in his life?

Did that owl still come to him, even after he left?

He turned his head to look at the door when it was opening. Bruce entered, carrying something in his hands. (Y/N) glared at him.

" Good morning son. Are you in any pain? "

(Y/N) refused to talk. Not happening. With a last glare, he turned his back to Bruce. He didn't hear anything from Bruce, but he felt the bed indenting.

" You know, when you went missing, Talia and I joined forces to find you. Even the others, who didn't know you, joined in. But we trained you well and you disappeared. For years I wondered whether or not you were dead. "

He stopped, looking at his son's figure. Nothing.

" I brought one of your drawings. Well, not any drawing, it's a drawing of me. You said the lighting was great and you couldn't help yourself."

Bruce said, finger going over the paper. It got stained over time, but the piece still looked the same.

" I didn't even know. " Bruce said, chuckling at the memory.

" You can stay quiet and defiant all you want, but you will warm up to us. "

(Y/N) couldn't care less in. He really couldn't. He was going to escape either way, no matter what it took. And once he did that, he is going to go to Europe or Middle East. He is still deciding.

" Well, dinner is almost ready. We made your favorite. "

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. His favorite was going to fix everything? Please Bruce.

" I'm going to bring you some after dinner. "

And with that being said, Bruce left the room. (Y/N) listened to Bruce's footsteps. Once he was sure he left the hall, he tried to stand up. He took a deep breath and on shaky legs went to the window. He still remembers how he used to climb down from the wall. He hoped that stayed the same.

He pushed the window up, pushing his head out, looking down.

" Okay. " He put his head inside, moving to the closet. He won't be able to climb down in his socks.

" Shit! " He cursed, seeing that he had no footwear in the closet. This is bullshit. Okay, it seems that socks will have to do. He took a black pair and put them on quickly. He moved to the window, putting one leg out. He needs to make it to the city to one of his hideouts. He had money and documents there. He knows he can do this.

He put his leg over the ledge, stopping when he heard the door opening. Damian stood in the doorway. Two brothers stared each other down, before (Y/N) said screw it, jumping out the window. Damian was about to jump out and (Y/N) slammed the window down.

He swore he could hear a quiet scream of pain. It made him feel great. He is turning into a sadist.

He jumped down, quickly running towards the big wall that separated the property and his freedom. He jumped up, ignoring the shouts. He was about to jump over, but the electricity hit him. His entire body cramped. He fell down onto his back, his body cramping so hard.

He saw Bruce standing over him. Did he look disappointed? What the hell?

He tried to get away, but Bruce was quicker. He picked him up, moving him back to the manor.

" Did you really think that you could escape? " Bruce asked his son. (Y/N) tried to get out of Bruce's hold. Not happening. Nope.

" It seems that we have to put you in a cell. "

A cell? Where? In the cave? Or the Justice League? Or somewhere far off?

" Did you really think that I won't punish this behavior? "

(Y/N) was now slightly panicking. How long was he going to be there? And how will he escape from there?

" As long as you behave, you will get out of there quickly. "

(Y/N) saw the cell. It was glass cell and everyone could see through it. It had a bed, a small sink and a door connecting to a smaller room.

" It's a bathroom, don't worry. " Bruce said, as if he could read (Y/N)'s mind.

(Y/N) tried to slip from Bruce's grip. Bruce didn't react as the doors to the cell opened. Bruce put him on the bed before leaving. (Y/N) stayed on the bed. Why did he do this? Why did he let his emotion rule? He should have waited, planned it out better... He punched the glass of the cell. What is he going to do?

He laid down. He blinked a few times. He wasn't going to cry. Not now.

" Why? " he asked Bruce.

" You are wasting your talent. You are wasting your life with them. I know that you use that talent for good. And until you realize that, you are staying here. "

(Y/N) glared at Bruce. He wasn't staying. Not by a long shoot. He turned his back to Bruce. He pushed the covers over himself, refusing to talk anymore.

Days went by and (Y/N) was unresponsive. He refused to talk to anybody, no matter how hard they tried.

Bruce talked to him about the memories he had of him before he went missing, brought him food and just chatted over all. Sometimes even asked what (Y/N) thought about a certain case.

Dick talked to him for hours about random stuff. (Y/N) was going to hang himself at this rate.

Jason talked to him about motorcycles and guns. He did it when he was fixing his bike, asking what he thought about it.

Tim wasn't talking to (Y/N) about anything. He would asked if he wanted a coffee when he went to get a refill. He was (Y/N)'s favorite.

Damian was the most persistent one. He talked to (Y/N) about a lot of things. He talked in Arabic, hoping to get a response from (Y/N).

No results. Bruce had to call in the big guns.

" Talia, you have to try to get him talking. He simply refuses to. "

Talia nodded. She made her way to the front of the cell, watching her son. She remembers how lively and snarky he was. This is just a shell of her son.

" (Y/N)... " She trailed off, not knowing what to say or to do.

(Y/N)'s body went stiff. What is his mother doing here?

" Why aren't you talking? I missed the sound of your voice. "

(Y/N) turned his head around. Talia took in the sight of bloodshot eyes, circles beneath (Y/N)'s eyes... He looked miserable.

" Tell me, why do you keep fighting us? We only want to help you. "

(Y/N) laughed, full on laughing, throwing his head back. Bruce and Talia gave each other a look.

" Help? HELP?! " (Y/N) yelled out, walking to the front of the cell. He took a deep breath.

" You two never helped me. I hate both of you. " (Y/N) said chuckling.

His stopped smiling looking at them.

" I hate you both more than I hate life. Keep me in this cell for as long as you want, I will find a way out of here. Didn't you say that there is always a way out? " (Y/N) mocked Bruce.

" Send your birds and send your assassins. I will beat them either way."

(Y/N) said flatly. He turned his back to the room before laying down.

Bruce had no idea that (Y/N) hated Talia and him that much. Bruce sighed. They had a lot of work to do. Talia shook her head.

" We have to give him time. " Bruce said. He can't lie to himself. The words did stung.

" I agree. "

Bruce took one last glance before leaving the cave with Talia. They need to have a plan in order to do this. His son would return to him. Sooner or later.

[transdimensional-void]

bael the bard, danaë, perseus, and jon

has anyone discussed before how the bael the bard legend is not only a remix of the hades/persephone myth but also of the myth of danaë and perseus?

the myth

i want to start by retelling the full myth because while there’s a lot that isn’t relevant to bael the bard’s story, i believe some of the other parts might be relevant to the future story in the books. bear with me because it’s a little long.

danaë is a princess, daughter of the king of argos. the king has no male heirs, so he consults the oracle of delphi, who tells him that he will never have a son but that his daughter will...and that this grandson will one day kill him.

fearful of his life, he locks danaë in a room beneath his palace (or at the top of a tower, depending on the version of the myth) to keep her from ever conceiving a child. however, the god zeus takes a shine to her and sneaks through her prison bars in the form of a golden rain. the rain falls upon her and impregnates her.

when the king learns of danaë's pregnancy, he decides he must get rid of both her and the child. however, murdering his own kin would anger the gods, so instead he locks mother and child inside a chest and sets them afloat on the sea. the gods intervene, and poseidon, brother of zeus, sees to it that the pair make it safely to another island, where they are taken in by the local king. the child, perseus, is raised in the temple of athena.

the king who takes them in wants to marry danaë, but she refuses. he says he'll give up on the idea if perseus slays the gorgon medusa. the gods grant perseus gifts that help him succeed. he is bringing medusa's head back as proof of his success, when he sees a princess chained to a rock by the sea. this is andromeda, who is being sacrificed to a sea monster that has been terrorizing the coast of her homeland, aethiopia. the sea monster is revenge from the gods for her mother's hubris in claiming she was more beautiful than the nereids. perseus makes a deal with her father that he can marry her if he saves her.

perseus uses medusa's head to turn the sea monster to stone and consequently receives andromeda's hand in marriage. at the wedding feast, her uncle, to whom she was promised before the whole sea monster debacle, tries to intervene, but perseus turns him to stone with medusa's head. then he takes andromeda home with him, shows the head to the king as proof of his success, and saves his mother from the unwanted marriage.

later, he goes to the olympic games and, while participating in the discus (or javelin) toss, accidentally hits his grandfather in the head, killing him instantly. thus, he unintentionally fulfills the prophecy. having murdered the king of argos, he refuses his claim to its throne and instead becomes king of a nearby land.

bael the bard

there are some clear parallels between this myth and the bael the bard myth we learn in "a clash of kings." (oops just noticed i had the book wrong here).

the king who lacks a male heir but has a daughter whose son could become his heir. the girl locked underground. the girl ripped away from her home and family. a dubiously consensual romantic encounter that results in the girl's only child. the son going on to unwittingly kill a male forebearer.

of course, the bael the bard myth is echoed in-universe by several storylines, most notably the story of lyanna...which means that it is also echoed in the story of jon.

implications for jon's story

it's interesting to consider whether some of the elements of perseus's story which aren't included in the bael the bard myth will show up in jon's story. some of them already have, such as the girl's son being rescued by his uncle (poseidon rescues perseus, ned rescues jon) and a prophecy being made about the child even before he is conceived (perseus will kill his grandfather, jon will in some way fulfill a prophecy rhaegar was obsessed with).

the stark maiden's son goes on to become an unwitting kin/kingslayer, and so does perseus. if jon ends up killing a king or queen who is also his blood relative, then he would be following the pattern set by both stories. while bael's son slays his father and perseus slays his grandfather, in both cases the girl's son kills the man who imprisoned his mother and separated her from her home and family. jon, of course, can kill neither his father nor his grandfather, as all of these people are already dead. however, he could kill another relative, perhaps one who has already fantasized herself as rhaegar...and by killing her, he could in essence be "killing" his father's family's entire legacy.

it's also interesting that, while the son in the bael the bard story takes his grandfather's seat (not his father's), perseus refuses to take his grandfather's seat after having killed him and instead takes a nearby throne. i wonder which one jon's story will more closely resemble. i don't see jon ending the story as lord of winterfell or king of westeros (his two grandfathers' seats). i can see him ultimately refusing both seats, especially considering he's already refused the lordship of winterfell. but he could be given a lordship near to winterfell instead...

another fascinating connection is the story of perseus and andromeda. the andromeda story is seen as a possible precursor to the story of st. george and the dragon update: this is the meta i meant to link (thanks to @kellyvela for opening my eyes to this amazing reference within the novels). in andromeda's story, not only does a mythical monster get slain to protect the beautiful princess, but her uncle who is trying to marry her also gets killed to keep him from getting his hands on her. i wonder if there are any princesses in the novels who have uncles trying to marry them who might need to slaying... i can't conceive of why such a princess would be showing up in a story related to jon! hmmm... of course, in george's twist on the tale, the princess will get to slay her own monstrous uncle (in a castle made of snow).

also, i'm sure i'm not the first to point out the strong possibility of danaë being an inspiration for dæny's name. dæny is a princess who is sent by sea to live in another land and does conceive a child of prophecy. however, it very much seems that with her son's death, her connection to the myth of danaë dies as well. she takes on the destiny prophesied for her son, in a sense becoming the hero of her own story.

conclusion

considering how many bael references are sprinkled throughout the novels, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are other connections to the myths of danaë and perseus than the ones i mentioned here, so i’d love to hear what other think!

[am-i-interrupting]

How Autism Effects Them

For Me. Hi, I’m autistic and I write these specific characters with autism in mind. Here’s how it effects my writing of them.

Alastor

Alastor is a sensory avoidant autistic with the PDA profile.

He avoids touch unless specifically initiated by him or someone he trusts.

He cannot stand any type of soft touch and is much more receptive to strong grips.

Part of the reason he employed Niffty is because of her obsessive cleaning and his need for things to be orderly but lack of willpower or energy to clean.

He has a specific way of organizing things and Niffty quickly caught on and adopted those same values.

He avoids going certain places due to sounds which may occur. Specifically retaining to music.

He enjoys Jazz, swing, classical, and blues. That is it.

Being sensory avoidant, does not mean, however, that he never seeks sensory stimulation. It is just something he does not do often.

One of the biggest ways he seeks some sort of new experience, sensory or emotion wise, is actually through his planned chaos like with the Hotel. A situation he has some control over and sway in how it goes.

The main stimulation he will look for is the feeling of blood between his teeth and fingers or the best of his favorite songs. Though, he also enjoys the smells and tastes of various spices.

(Personally, I am of the belief that dancing is a stim that he participates in because it’s socially acceptable.)

He is very in touch with his needs and what his body communicates to him even if he doesn’t always have words to describe them.

The PDA profile of autism is known as Pathological Demand Avoidance or, preferred by many PDA-era, Persistent Drive for Autonomy. This often shows up as feeling like anything perceived as a demand is a threat and reacting accordingly.

This results in despite him knowing what his body needs, he refuses to give in to it.

How dare his body tell him to sleep, he is in the middle of very important things that he does not want to stop doing and will stay up even longer to spite his body.

How dare Charlie and Vaggie insist he use video when his radio station is perfectly available, he will mess it up out of spite.

His special interests are actually radio and body anatomy. This fueled both his career choices.

Lucifer

Lucifer is a depressed, anxiety ridden AuDHD king.

He hyperfixates on his projects and forgets to eat, drink, even go to the bathroom.

He struggles with keeping relationships.

You send him a message, he forgets to reply, remembers to reply two weeks later, spends another week debating whether or not it’s too late to reply before finally replying or just starting a new conversation.

He is easily overwhelmed in social situations and cannot maintain multiple conversations at once.

He will fixate on one person and only reply to them.

Just barges in on conversations and chimes in when initiated at inappropriate times.

He bounces between needing complete silence, a specific noise, or an amount of noise that would overwhelm others constantly.

Vaggie

Vaggie is an autistic who has alexthymia.

She’s very monotoned and doesn’t know how to express her emotions because frankly, she doesn’t always know what they are.

It’s like there’s some disconnect between her thoughts and her body.

She’s not very good at articulating what she feels or connecting what her body is experiencing to her emotions.

She actually has a journal filled with bodily descriptions and how they connect to what she thinks she should be feeling. It helps her describe them to you better.

She doesn’t just have a disconnect with her feelings but her body as a whole.

She does not process things that should be painful as painful.

Her brain doesn’t always compute what signals her body is giving her so she can often forget to eat, drink, go to the bathroom, sleep.

She has certain rituals she does in order to try to connect better with her body and understand what it needs.

Every morning while she’s getting ready, she needs complete silence so she can connect.

She goes through the motions of brushing her hair and takes note of how it feels before and after. She does the same with brushing her teeth.

A couple times every day, she just has to stop everything, find a quiet place, and try to understand what her body is telling her.

Vox

Vox has the PDA profile of autism, is sensory seeking, and has OCD-like tendencies.

See Alastor, point 13 for definition of PDA.

His PDA comes up in a much more controlling way than Alastor’s. Or at least obviously controlling.

He needs everything to go a specific way and gets very disregulated when it doesn’t.

I feel like this also makes his RSD (rejection sensitivity dysphoria) worse.

Not only does he have the disappointment and feeling of failure when he is rejected or dismissed but he also has the emotional disregulation of his PDA which makes him feel like he’s been threatened and in danger to deal with on top of this.

His PDA often results in his use of manipulation and hypnosis over the general populace to ensure a favorable outcome for him.

If he is told to do something and there’s no way out of doing it, he will coerce the situation into something that at least feels like he has control over it.

However, if he does have a way out of it. He simply won’t do it or will purposefully do it wrong.

If you ask him to do something that he was already doing, he will walk away and come back to do it later when you’re gone.

His sensory seeking behavior is often like how we were introduced to him, plugging himself into his systems and being bombarded with the sounds of people.

He does this to regulate.

It’s cathartic to him in the same way blasting loud music when you’re upset is.

His main source of stimulation is through noise and sight.

He finds things like bright lights a calming thing as well.

He is a bit sensory avoidant though but it shows up very differently to Alastor’s.

It shows up in the form of constant cleanliness, yes, but Alastor finds cleanliness soft, unstained rugs and polished wooden desks whereas Vox finds it in a much more modern style.

Counters that don’t have a single finger print on them. Floors that are tile and shining, always looking freshly waxed.

Alastor’s version of clean is warm and homely. Vox’s version of clean is cold and slick.

This also plays into his OCD-like tendencies.

For Alastor it’s an annoyance when these things get out of place. For Vox it’ll ruin his entire day and he has to rearrange his schedule in order to fix it.

Another sensory experience he avoids would be strong smells. He cannot cope with them as they overwhelm him, along with taste.

His part of the tower is very pristine and actually very cold temperature wise not only because he enjoys colder temperatures but they also prevent him from overheating when he’s upset or just feeling strong emotions.

Going to the other parts of the tower are not something he enjoys.

Velvette’s normally smells of strong perfumes and Valentino’s smells of a combination of perfume and sex.