#her husband and children and everything. and the way she expresses that is none of my fucking business.

[femmeterypolka]

new joanna song’s got me feeling like a mean lesbian

[parkerslatte]

Blanket Fort

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none.

Summary: Y/N returns home from a long day of helping Feyre at the studio and her heart melts from what she finds.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The moment Y/N entered her house, hushed whispers were heard coming from the living room. After a long day working at the studio with Feyre, all Y/N wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. She kicked off her shoes and entered the living room and immediately paused when she took notice of the mess of it.

Instead of the usual furniture set by the fireplace, it was pushed to the corners of the room in favour of the large blanket fort in the centre of the room. The hushed whispers were of course coming from inside. Despite the tiredness in her body, Y/N smiled.

“Daddy, is Mummy going to come in?” the voice of her six year old son whispered. Or in his case, just spoke aloud.

“Get her!” Her three year old daughter giggled.

“Alright, I’ll get her,” the voice of her husband said.

Y/N leaned against the doorway and watched how Azriel emerged from the blanket fort. With his wings it was a miracle he managed to fit inside. As soon as Y/N made eye contact with him, she simply fell in love with him all over again. His hair was a mess and stuck up in all directions and his eyes were sleepy. His shirt hung loosely on his body and was the one he would never be cause dead in outside the comfort of his home.

“Hey, honey,” Azriel whispered and pulled her body against his, resting his arms around her waist.

“Hey,” Y/N replied and lazily rested her arms over his shoulders. “So what is this all about?”

Azriel smiled. “Oh this? Just a little construction work. Robin has been bossing me and his sister around all day. Odessa has just been happy to help out her big brother.”

Y/N smiled and wished that she had been with her family. Y/N remembered when she first told Azriel she was pregnant with Robin, he had been over the moon. He had been protective before the pregnancy but during it, Y/N couldn’t even go to the kitchen without him trailing behind her. Y/N needed to beg Cassian and Rhys to take him out for a few days to give her a well needed break of the coddling.

After Robin was born, Azriel had a hard time bonding with him. Azriel blamed it on Robin constantly needing her but Y/N knew that it wasn’t the case. Y/N knew that Azriel didn’t see himself fit to be a father. He had never voiced these thoughts to Y/N but she could tell just from looking in his eyes. Azriel only held Robin when Y/N passed him to him. He would only interact with him when Robin crawled over to him. It was as if Azriel was afraid of tainting his son just from being around him.

It wasn’t until Y/N went on an overnight trip with Feyre that everything sorted itself out. When she returned that morning, Y/N expected Robin to be asleep in his crib but what she found was even more precious. Robin was fast asleep on Azriel’s chest and Azriel himself was asleep too, a protective hand on Robin’s back. Y/N had asked Feyre to paint the image which now proudly hung in their living room, a matching one of Azriel and Odessa next to it

After that night, Robin would always follow Azriel around. He had become one of his shadows. Robin tried to imitate Azriel. The way he stood, the way he walked. Even facial expressions. Despite Robin being born without wings, he always demanded Azriel to take him flying and pretend that he was flying himself. Robin idolised his father, it was as simple as that.

When Odessa was born, Azriel didn’t ever pull away from her. And of course, like Robin, Odessa would always follow her father around. And due to Odessa’s small wings poking from her back, she would always plead for Azriel to teach her how to fly, despite the lack of strength in her wings that could not support her weight yet.

Y/N never minded that her children always wanted Azriel. Of course they would always want her too, but Y/N knew that Azriel always needed to be reminded by his children how loved he really was. There were still some days where Azriel believed that he did not deserve the life he had and one those days, Y/N would leave the house and allow Azriel time with their children and all those thoughts would instantly wash away.

“I wish you could have been with us,” Azriel said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “They have been asking for you since lunch.”

“Feyre needed a lot of help today, the class she was teaching was overbooked so I helped out a little longer than usual,” Y/N answered. “I wish I could have been here earlier.”

Azriel smiled and pressed his lips against Y/N’s. She melted into the kiss. The feel of his lips against hers was a pleasant feeling after her tiring day. However before she had a chance to fully savour it, small hands grabbed Y/N’s dress and tugged it.

“Mummy,” Robin said excitedly. “Look what we made!”

Y/N pulled away from Azriel and down to her son. She smiled upon seeing him. He definitely took after his father, even down to the shade of his eyes was a replica. The only difference was his nose, he had Y/N’s nose.

“Come on!” Robin said, now gripping onto Y/N’s hand.

Y/N allowed herself to be led by her son to the mass of blankets in the centre of the room. Y/N peeked inside and saw her daughter bundled amongst the pillows. Odessa laughed gleefully upon seeing her mother.

The space in the blanket fort was larger than she thought, mostly to allow Azriel to enter with his wings. Y/N shuffled inside and laid down next to her daughter. She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “I missed you today.”

“Did you miss me too?” Robin asked, laying down on the other side of Y/N.

Y/N wrapped her arms around her son and kissed his cheeks. “Of course I did!” Robin tried to push Y/N away, yet the smile on his face and the giggles escaping him as his mother showered him with love betrayed his resistance.

“Daddy! Come back!” Odessa piped up and giggled as Azriel’s face came into view.

He crawled through the gap in the blankets, making sure to keep his wings tucked close to his body. As soon as he was inside, he laid down next to Robin and Robin immediately hugged his father.

Y/N watched Azriel’s face light up as Robin began to speak to him while gripping onto his shirt. Her heart couldn’t feel more full.

“Mummy.” Odessa’s voice caught Y/N’s attention.

Y/N smiled down at her daughter, wrapping her in a hug. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can we sleep here?” Odessa asked.

Y/N looked at Azriel and he already looked ready to pass out. Y/N smiled. She returned her gaze to Odessa.

“I don’t see why not,” Y/N said.

Odessa let out a small noise of happiness before nuzzling into her mother's arms and closed her eyes. Y/N held onto her daughter and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“They are growing up too fast,” Azriel said quietly once the two children were asleep between them.

“I know,” Y/N said, reaching out her hand to hold onto Azriel’s. “I swear it was only yesterday we were celebrating Odessa’s first birthday.”

Azriel smiled as he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s palm. “What do you say about another one?”

“Another kid?” Y/N asked

“No, another dog,” Azriel teased. “Yes, another kid.”

Y/N smiled softly. “I remember a time where you were terrified to become a father. Look at you now, wanting more children who look exactly like you.”

“Odessa has your eyes and Robin has your nose. They take after you at least a small amount,” Azriel defended, teasing his wife.

Y/N chuckled. “So you want another one?”

“Only if you wanted to,” Azriel said. “I’ve been thinking since having Odessa that I like having a family. I like having children. And I’ve realised recently that I want a large family. I want more people to love.”

Y/N cupped Azriel’s cheek. “My love, I would love that too. But perhaps we don’t start trying for another child until Odessa is a little older. You know what Nyx was like when he first started to fly, imagine what it will be like with Odessa while also caring for another young baby.”

Azriel smiled. “That would be a nightmare.”

“I know it would be,” Y/N replied. “But having a large family is not a no. Let’s just enjoy what we have for now.”

“Okay,” Azriel said.

He looked down at his children and Y/N could see the unconditional love in his eyes.

“I never thank you enough for proving to me that I deserve this life, Y/N,” Azriel whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me, my love,” Y/N said, brushing her fingers through his hair. “You never need to thank me for something you figured out yourself.”

Azriel smiled in response. He carefully stretched one wing out and draped it over Y/N and the children, wrapping them all in a warm cocoon.

“You are going to ache in the morning,” Y/N said.

“I know,” Azriel said. “But it’s worth it to spend the night with my family like this.”

Y/N smiled. “We definitely need to take this down while Robin and Odessa go to Rhys and Feyre’s, otherwise they will want to sleep in it every night.”

“What’s going to be the excuse?” Azriel asked.

Y/N yawned. “We can figure that out in the morning or we can just take them for ice cream. They will forget all about it.”

Azriel smiled and wrapped his arm around his family. His fingers linked with Y/N’s. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N replied.

The small squeeze of Y/N’s hand and the gentle pull on that golden thread connecting their souls, Y/N was consumed by Azriel’s love for her and their family. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

[charlesslut16]

-our time-

summary : you, george and your little girl are on vacation

PAIRING : dad!george russel x fem!mom!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope that you like this one, lovies!

masterlist 

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The sun was shining brightly on a warm summer afternoon as you stepped out onto the terrace of the luxurious hotel. You held the hand of your husband, George Russell, who smiled down at you with his signature warmth.

In his other arm, he cradled his six-month-old daughter. The hotel’s poolside restaurant bustled with activity, the sounds of laughter and splashing water creating a lively, cheerful atmosphere.

"Isn't this place beautiful?" George asked, his eyes twinkling as he looked around. He loved going on vacation, as his busy racing schedule did not allow it often.

"Absolutely," you agreed, squeezing his hand. "And it's the perfect day for a little family outing." You were so happy to finally have george and your daughter for the whole day without any duties.

Your daughter gurgled happily in George's arms, her wide blue eyes reflecting the clear sky above. Her tiny hands reached out, grabbing at the air, fascinated by everything around her.

George chuckled, adjusting her sun hat to shield her delicate skin from the sun. Her yellow sundress flowing in the wind. Hey face showing pure emotion and curiosity.

"Let's find a nice spot," George suggested, leading the way to a shaded table near the pool. The gentle breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers, adding to the serene ambiance.

As you settled into your seats, a friendly waiter approached, offering a menu filled with delicious options. George glanced at Emilia, who was now contentedly chewing on her teething ring.

"How about some fresh fruit and a couple of smoothies?" George suggested, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing smile. "And maybe something a bit more substantial for us?"

You nodded in agreement, your heart swelling with affection as you watched George effortlessly balance his roles as a doting father and a loving husband. The waiter took your order and left, promising to return soon.

George gently rocked your daughter, who was now starting to doze off in his arms. Her tiny fingers curled around his shirt, and he looked down at her with pure adoration. She loved her father.

"She's such a little angel," George murmured, his voice filled with awe.

"She takes after her dad," you teased, earning a playful grin from George.

As you waited for your food, you three enjoyed the peaceful moment, the sound of water splashing and children laughing creating a pleasant background.

George shared stories from his racing adventures, his passion and excitement infectious. You found yourself laughing at his stories, feeling incredibly lucky to share these moments with him.

Soon, the waiter returned with a platter of fresh fruit, vibrant and colorful, along with two tall glasses of smoothies. George carefully placed your daughter in her stroller, ensuring she was comfortable, before turning his attention to the delicious spread.

"Cheers to a perfect day," George said, raising his glass.

"To us," you echoed, clinking your glasses together.

As you savored the refreshing smoothies, you fed your daughter small pieces of banana, her tiny mouth opening eagerly for each bite. George captured the moment on his phone, his smile broadening with each adorable expression your daughter made.

"She's a natural in front of the camera," George said proudly. "Just like her mum."

You laughed, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. "She's definitely got your charm."

The afternoon continued in a blissful haze. You took turns playing with her, dipping her tiny toes into the pool, much to her delight. Her giggles were infectious, drawing smiles from everyone around. George couldn't resist joining in the fun, splashing water gently to make her laugh even more.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the pool area, you all settled back at your table, enjoying a light dinner. George fed your daughter her evening bottle, his patience and tenderness evident in every movement.

You felt a deep sense of contentment, knowing you were building beautiful memories together. You always knew that this man would be your husband and the father of your children.

With your daughter now fast asleep in her stroller, you and George leaned back, watching the stars begin to twinkle in the twilight sky. George took your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

"Today was perfect," he said softly, his eyes reflecting the same stars you were gazing at.

"Yes, it was," you agreed, your heart full of love.

"I love you, darling" george added softly, the content in his eyes visibly showing.

"I love you" you said softly, giving him a kiss.

As you sat there, hand in hand, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always be cherished. The laughter, the love, and the simple joy of being together as a family made every day an adventure worth living.

And as the night wrapped its gentle embrace around you, you looked forward to the many more perfect days to come, knowing that with George and your daughter by your side, life would always be an incredible journey.

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (the final choice)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: This is the final part of this story. Just embrace the chaos.

Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: rook's rest

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak @deemee33

The courtyard of the Red Keep was quiet, save for the distant hum of activity near the training yard. You had just finished spending time with Aegon in his chambers—an exhausting visit, but one you knew was necessary. His strength was slowly returning, but the scars of Rook’s Rest, both physical and emotional, still lingered on him like a second skin.

You’d barely stepped into the fresh air when you noticed Aemond standing near a large clearing, his tall figure silhouetted against the setting sun. And looming beside him, unmistakable in her sheer size and ancient majesty, was Vhagar.

Your heart sank.

Aemond’s stance was stiff, his single eye fixed on you with that familiar intensity. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, not as a threat, but as if he needed something to anchor himself. As you approached, the massive dragon let out a low rumble, her great, scaly head turning ever so slightly to regard you, like a cat considering whether or not to bother with a mouse.

“Aemond,” you began cautiously, “what are you doing?”

He stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor masking whatever storm was brewing inside him. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You and I. Together.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “Leaving? To where?”

“Harrenhal,” Aemond replied without missing a beat, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve taken control of the keep. It’s secure, far from the prying eyes of court. Far from… distractions.” The word hung in the air, thick with meaning. You didn’t have to guess what—or rather, who—those distractions were.

You crossed your arms, staring at him as though he’d just suggested flying to the moon. “You want me to leave Aegon and our children and just… run off with you to Harrenhal?”

Aemond’s expression hardened. “Aegon is a shadow of the man he once was,” he said coldly, though there was a flicker of something softer behind his words. “He can’t offer you anything anymore. But I can. I’ve done everything for you, Y/N—everything. We can be free of this place, free of him.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You think I can just abandon my family? Aegon might be… changed, but he’s still my husband. And our children—what of them?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, clearly frustrated that you weren’t seeing things his way. “They’ll be safe here. You and I, we belong together. You know that.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your temper in check. It wasn’t that Aemond’s offer wasn’t tempting on some level—there was a part of you that did feel drawn to him, that had felt the pull of something more between you. But this? This was madness.

“Aemond,” you said firmly, taking a step toward him, “I’m not leaving Aegon. And I’m certainly not leaving our children. You need to understand that.”

He frowned, his eye narrowing as he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Why? What can Aegon give you now? I’m offering you everything. We can start over, away from this cursed place. You don’t have to play the dutiful wife anymore.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to resist the urge to snap at him. “Aemond, I am Aegon’s wife. And those children you want me to leave behind? They’re mine. I’m not just going to run off into the sunset with you and pretend none of this exists.”

Aemond’s frustration was palpable now, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m offering you freedom. A life that isn’t weighed down by him.”

You glanced at Vhagar, who was watching the entire exchange with an almost bored expression, her massive eyes blinking slowly, as if she were above all this petty human drama. You turned back to Aemond, crossing your arms and giving him a sharp look.

“Aemond,” you said with a sigh, “I’m not getting on that dragon.”

He stared at you, incredulous. “You refuse?”

“I refuse,” you repeated firmly, your voice steady. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to—like making sure my children are taken care of.”

Aemond’s eye blazed with a mix of anger and desperation, but before he could say anything more, you turned toward Vhagar, who was still looming in the background, waiting for her rider’s command.

You waved a hand at the ancient dragon, much like one would shoo away a stray cat lounging on a cushion it had no business being on. “Shoo, Vhagar. Go on, off you go. Go take a nap or something.”

Vhagar let out a deep, rumbling huff, her massive head tilting slightly as she regarded you with something that almost resembled amusement. After a moment, the dragon shifted, her wings rustling as she slowly lumbered back a few paces, clearly in no hurry to follow your orders—but still, she moved.

Aemond stared at you, utterly speechless, as you casually waved off the largest, most powerful dragon in Westeros like it was a lazy cat that had overstayed its welcome.

“You can’t be serious,” he muttered, his voice tight with disbelief.

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “Aemond, I love you, but I’m not abandoning my life. You’ll have to figure out another way to deal with your issues that doesn’t involve kidnapping me and flying off to Harrenhal.”

Aemond’s face remained unreadable for a moment, his eye searching yours for something—some sign that you might change your mind. But you didn’t budge.

Finally, he let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But this isn’t over.”

You nodded, watching as he turned back to Vhagar, who seemed almost reluctant to leave the scene of such entertainment. Aemond mounted the great dragon, his jaw tight, but there was a flicker of something resigned in his gaze as he glanced back at you one last time.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said quietly, before Vhagar took to the skies, her massive wings beating against the wind as she soared away from the Red Keep.

You stood there for a moment, watching him go, a mixture of relief and sadness settling over you. The temptation Aemond offered had been real, but so was your life here. You had made your choice.

With a sigh, you turned back toward the Keep, your mind already shifting to thoughts of Aegon and your children. The drama with Aemond would have to wait for another day.

The throne room of the Red Keep was a tense place, filled with an eerie quiet as the skies outside darkened. The heavy doors to the chamber had been bolted shut, as though they alone could keep the inevitable at bay. Aegon, though burned and scarred, sat upon the Iron Throne, his face pale but determined. The ordeal of simply climbing the steps to the throne had been an exhausting one, and though he was seated now, he leaned heavily against the jagged iron, every breath a visible effort.

You stood at his side, watching him with a mixture of concern and admiration. He was stubborn, that much was clear—too proud to abandon his throne even now, when defeat seemed to hang in the air like a storm waiting to break. Behind you, your children stood close, their young faces filled with confusion and fear. The Red Keep had always been a fortress, a place of safety, but now it felt like a trap.

Alicent stood just a few paces away, her face drawn tight with determination, though you could see the flicker of fear in her eyes. She hovered near Helaena, who sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap as she murmured something to herself, her eyes unfocused as they often were when things became too overwhelming.

The sound of Syrax and Caraxes had been heard earlier, their roars echoing through the city like the gods themselves had descended upon King's Landing. The sky had been filled with the telltale shadow of dragons, and now, the doors to the throne room felt more like a countdown than a barrier.

Alicent, her voice sharp and unyielding, broke the silence. “We cannot give up hope,” she insisted, though her tone wavered slightly. She looked at Aegon, then to you, as if trying to will you both to share her belief. “Aemond will return from Harrenhal. He will. We sent the raven just as the dragons were spotted on the horizon.”

You glanced at Aegon, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, there was an unspoken conversation between you—one built on shared glances over the years, one that said more than words ever could. The truth was as plain as day: Aemond was not coming in time. No raven, no dragon, no battle-hardened brother was going to sweep in and save the day.

Aegon’s lips curled slightly, his scarred face twisting into something between a grimace and a smile. He leaned toward you, his voice low. “She still believes, even now.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress the wry smile threatening to form. “Aegon,” you said quietly, “this has gone on long enough.”

Alicent’s head snapped toward you, her expression tight with disbelief. “What do you mean? This is our duty. We must hold this city. We cannot simply—”

“Alicent,” you interrupted softly but firmly, your gaze meeting hers. “It’s over. We’ve fought this fight for far too long, and look where it’s brought us.” You gestured to Aegon, sitting on the Iron Throne, barely able to keep himself upright, a shadow of the man he once was. “The children—our children—deserve better than this endless war.”

Alicent stared at you, her eyes wide with something like betrayal, but beneath that, you could see the cracks in her resolve. The truth had been gnawing at all of them, and now it was finally forcing its way to the surface.

Before she could respond, the heavy doors of the throne room creaked open. The sound echoed through the hall, sending a chill down your spine as you turned to face what was coming. The chamber seemed to hold its breath as a group of armored men entered, their steps measured and purposeful. And at the head of them, with her head held high and her eyes blazing with determination, was Rhaenyra Targaryen.

She looked every bit the queen she had always been meant to be, her black and red gown billowing behind her like the wings of a dragon. Beside her strode Daemon, his usual swagger ever-present, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of Dark Sister. Behind them, their men filled the room, a silent but unmistakable display of power.

For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. The air was thick with tension, the kind that comes right before a storm breaks.

Aegon’s hand gripped the arm of the throne tightly, the sound of his breath ragged as he leaned forward slightly. “Well,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely more than a rasp, “here we go.”

You stood by his side, your hand resting gently on his, as you both braced for whatever came next.

The silence hung like a blade in the air as Rhaenyra’s eyes locked onto yours next. For a moment, everything seemed frozen, save for the flickering torches.

You took a deep breath, your hand slipping from Aegon’s as you stepped forward, toward Rhaenyra. Her guards bristled, their hands twitching toward their swords, but Rhaenyra held up a hand, stopping them in their tracks. Daemon, however, remained still, his sharp gaze never leaving you, though his lips curled into an amused smirk, as if the whole scene was nothing more than a game to him.

“Y/N,” Alicent’s voice rang out sharply from behind you, filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief. “What are you doing? Come back. You can’t—”

But you didn’t stop. You met Rhaenyra’s gaze head-on, your heart pounding in your chest, but your voice steady. “I’m trying to end this madness, Alicent,” you said softly, but loud enough for the room to hear. “For all of us.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicked to Alicent for a moment, then back to you, her brow arching slightly, though she didn’t move. Behind her, Daemon’s smirk grew wider, though he still didn’t relax, his hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword as if expecting things to turn violent at any moment.

“Brave,” Daemon drawled, his voice filled with amusement. “Approaching a dragon in its den.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve been living with one for years now, Daemon. You’re hardly the first dragon I’ve faced.”

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched, as if she were suppressing a smile herself, but she stayed silent, waiting to see what you would say next.

You took a deep breath and stopped a few paces from her, your voice calm but firm. “This has gone on long enough, Rhaenyra. The war, the bloodshed, the endless fighting. There’s been enough loss. I’ve come to offer you a deal.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed, though her expression remained measured. “A deal?” she asked, her voice cool but curious. “And what, exactly, are you offering?”

You straightened, feeling the weight of the room’s eyes on you—Aegon, Alicent, Helaena, Rhaenyra, and even Daemon, all waiting for your next move.

“I want to take Aegon, our children, and my family back to Casterly Rock,” you said evenly. “Let us go, and we’ll never trouble you again. Aegon will renounce his claim to the throne. We’ll stay out of the way, and you can rule in peace.”

A ripple of surprise passed through the room, though no one spoke. Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though she were weighing the offer in her mind.

“And what guarantee do I have that your husband,” she gestured toward Aegon with a slight tilt of her head, “won’t attempt some foolish rebellion once he’s licked his wounds?”

You smiled, glancing back at Aegon, who was doing his best to sit up straight, though it was clear the effort was taking its toll. “I think,” you said wryly, “that Aegon has had enough of wars for a lifetime. Isn’t that right, love?”

Aegon managed a weak, sardonic grin from the Iron Throne. “Aye,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but laced with bitter humor. “I think I’ve had my fill of conquest. The Iron Throne’s overrated anyway—too damned uncomfortable.”

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched again, though her gaze remained steady. Behind her, Daemon chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Aegon swears,” you continued, your tone firm, “on the lives of his children, that he will never challenge you again. We’ll live quietly in the West, away from court, away from politics. Let us go, and you’ll have one less enemy to deal with.”

For a long moment, Rhaenyra said nothing. The room held its collective breath as she studied you, her eyes flicking to Aegon, then back to you. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before.

“You would leave the capital? Leave the realm behind?”

You nodded. “We would. For our children’s sake, if nothing else.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, just a fraction, and for the first time since she had entered the room, you saw something almost like understanding in her eyes. She, too, was a mother. She knew the weight of protecting her children.

But before she could respond, Alicent’s voice cut through the tension once more, her tone sharp and desperate. “You can’t—we can’t give up the throne so easily! Aegon is the rightful king. You have a duty—”

You turned to Alicent, your voice firm but gentle. “Alicent, it’s over. The Iron Throne has brought nothing but pain to this family. It’s time to let go.”

Alicent looked at you, her eyes wide, her lips trembling as if she wanted to argue further, but the words wouldn’t come. She knew, deep down, that you were right. The fight was over, and all that was left was survival.

Rhaenyra shifted, her voice calm but firm. “Very well,” she said at last, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “You may leave. Take Aegon, take your children, and go to Casterly Rock. But know this—if any whisper of rebellion reaches my ears, if Aegon so much as thinks of challenging me again, I will burn Casterly Rock to the ground.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Agreed.”

Daemon, still leaning lazily against his sword, raised an eyebrow. “A generous offer, Rhaenyra,” he murmured, though there was still that unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. “Though I wouldn’t mind a little rebellion. Keeps things interesting.”

Rhaenyra shot him a warning look, but there was a faint smile playing at her lips. “That won’t be necessary, Daemon.”

You exhaled, the weight of the moment crashing down on you as you realized that you had done it. You had secured safety for your family—for now, at least.

Rhaenyra turned toward the throne, her eyes flicking to Aegon once more, her voice quiet but resolute. “The Iron Throne is mine.”

Aegon, still slumped in the chair, managed a dry laugh. “It always was, Rhaenyra. Enjoy it. I’m off to more comfortable seats.”

With that, Rhaenyra signaled to her men, and the room began to empty, the weight of the war falling away as the path to peace finally opened.

And as you stood there, beside Aegon, with your family behind you, you couldn’t help but feel a small, bittersweet sense of relief. The fight was over. At least, for now.

Casterly Rock had never been this lively. The towering, ancient fortress perched above the waves of the Sunset Sea now echoed with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. Since your family’s relocation from King’s Landing, Aegon had been enjoying himself far more than anyone expected. It was as though the Iron Throne and its sharp, uncomfortable spikes had sucked the joy out of him, and now, finally free, he was having the time of his life.

You stood on a wide balcony overlooking the sprawling, sun-drenched landscape, watching Aegon as he lounged on a luxurious settee, a goblet of wine in hand, looking far more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. The children played nearby, their laughter filling the air. Every so often, Aegon would turn to them with a lazy grin and shout something like, “Go on, you little lions! Show them how a real dragon roars!” before collapsing into a fit of chuckles.

Aegon had taken to life at Casterly Rock like a duck to water. His once pale, sickly complexion was now kissed by the sun, and his spirits were high. He reveled in the wealth, the ease, the freedom from responsibility. As for you, the newfound peace and tranquility of Casterly Rock were a blessing—no more politics, no more war. Just wine, family, and the occasional feast that Aegon insisted on hosting for any Lannister cousins who would visit.

The only downside? Alicent.

Despite all the opulence, all the relaxation, Alicent Hightower stood by the balcony, arms crossed, her face set in a permanent frown, as though every bit of merriment was a personal affront. She had insisted on coming to Casterly Rock with you, despite your gentle suggestion that she might want to stay in King’s Landing. Since arriving, she had maintained her usual demeanor—watchful, tense, and, most of all, annoyed by the sheer joy Aegon was taking in his new life.

You couldn’t help but watch her with a mixture of amusement and concern. For days now, she had been pacing, her disapproval palpable. Finally, you could no longer resist, and with a light laugh, you approached her.

“Lady Alicent,” you began sweetly, though there was a teasing edge to your voice, “you’ve been frowning since we arrived. We’re in one of the most beautiful places in Westeros, Aegon is practically glowing with health, and yet…” You gestured to her stiff posture and furrowed brow. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

Alicent turned to you, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I simply don’t see how you can all be so… carefree,” she muttered, her gaze drifting back toward Aegon, who had now joined the children in some impromptu game that involved a great deal of roaring and chasing. “The world is still full of dangers.”

You sighed, leaning against the stone balcony rail. “Alicent, we’ve left King’s Landing, we’ve left the politics behind. You can relax. You’re not responsible for every move made in the realm anymore. Why not just… go back to Oldtown? Spend time with your family there. You don’t have to stay here with us if it makes you uncomfortable.”

To your surprise, Alicent’s expression changed—not into the indignant scowl you expected, but into something far more vulnerable. Her brows knitted together, and she looked away from you, her voice quieter than you had ever heard it.

“I can’t,” she said softly.

You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Alicent let out a breath, her hands gripping the edge of the balcony as though she needed something to hold onto. “I’ve spent my whole life in the capital. I’ve always had responsibilities—whether it was to my father, to my children, or to the realm. But now…” She hesitated, the words seeming to stick in her throat. “Now that the war is over, now that Aegon has given up the throne… I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Her admission was so unexpected that for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. Alicent Hightower, the woman who had spent her life controlling, organizing, and managing everything around her, was lost now that there was nothing left to manage. She had always been defined by her duty—first to Viserys, then to Aegon, and now… well, now, she wasn’t sure what her place was.

You softened, moving closer to her. “Alicent,” you said gently, “you don’t need to have a grand purpose anymore. You’ve done your part. You’ve raised your children, you’ve kept the realm together through chaos. You’ve earned the right to rest.”

Alicent shook her head, her lips pressing tighter together. “It’s not that simple. I can’t just… relax. I’ve never had that luxury.”

You studied her for a moment, trying to find the right words. “You’ve never had that luxury because you’ve never let yourself have it. You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders for so long, but look around.” You gestured toward Aegon, who had now flopped onto the ground, dramatically claiming defeat as your children pounced on him in victory. “He’s happy. The children are happy. The realm is moving forward without us. Maybe it’s time to let go.”

Alicent looked at you, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and uncertainty, as though the very idea of letting go was as foreign to her as flying a dragon.

“Besides,” you added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood, “we’ve got all the wine in the world here at Casterly Rock. It’s a shame to waste it on just Aegon.”

Alicent let out a small, reluctant laugh, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I suppose there’s no harm in enjoying a little peace,” she admitted, though there was still a hint of doubt in her voice.

You smiled warmly, placing a hand on her arm. “There’s no harm at all. In fact, I think it’s exactly what you need.”

For a moment, you thought you’d gotten through to her. But then, Aegon—who had clearly been eavesdropping—shouted from the other side of the courtyard, “Yes, Mother! Embrace the wine! It’s the only thing keeping me alive!”

You shot Aegon a mock glare, but he just grinned, hoisting a goblet in the air as the children cheered beside him.

Alicent sighed, but this time there was a hint of amusement in her expression. “Perhaps I’ll take a glass,” she muttered, shaking her head as she walked toward the open courtyard, leaving you smiling in her wake.

As you watched her go, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of victory. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Casterly Rock had a way of working its charm on everyone—even the most stubborn of people.

The castle of Casterly Rock had settled into a comfortable routine. The golden sunlight streamed through the windows, and for once, all was peaceful—well, until the thunderous roar of Vhagar pierced the air, shaking the very stones of the ancient fortress.

The sound was enough to rattle even the sturdiest of Lannisters, and Sunfyre, who had been dozing lazily near the cliffs, let out a high-pitched screech that reverberated through the castle, startling everyone awake. Servants rushed to and fro, muttering curses under their breath about “all these damned dragons,” while Aegon groggily sat up from his luxurious bed, blinking in confusion.

“What in seven hells is that racket?” Aegon mumbled, rubbing his eyes, still not fully awake.

You, already half-dressed, sighed as you glanced out the window to see the unmistakable silhouette of Vhagar landing near the cliffs, her massive wings stirring up dust and sending anyone in the vicinity scrambling for cover. “Looks like your brother has come to visit,” you said dryly.

Aegon groaned, throwing himself back onto the bed. “Of course, it’s Aemond. Couldn’t send a raven like a normal person, could he? No, he has to drop in with Vhagar and scare half the bloody castle.”

Just as you were pulling on your gown, the door to your chamber flew open, revealing a very irritated Lord Jason Lannister, his usually impeccable hair disheveled, his face flushed with annoyance. “What now?” Jason snapped, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of a man who had been woken up one too many times by dragons lately. “First, Sunfyre’s been keeping half the keep awake with his screeching, and now Vhagar arrives like a bloody storm? How many dragons are you lot hiding in this castle?”

You smiled sweetly at Jason, though you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. “Come now, Uncle. Surely you, of all people, are used to hosting royal guests.”

Jason threw his hands up in exasperation. “Not this many. And certainly not ones that come with wingspans larger than my dining hall!”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice echoed through the halls. “Where is he?”

Aemond strode into the room, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he entered, his eye cold and unreadable as always. He glanced at you briefly, his expression impassive, but there was an unmistakable heaviness in the air. You could feel his gaze linger for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned his attention to Aegon, who was still sprawled out on the bed like he’d been woken from the dead.

“Aegon,” Aemond said, his voice steady and calm. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

Aegon blinked up at him, his face scrunched in confusion. “Goodbye? What do you mean, goodbye? You’re not going anywhere.”

Aemond’s eye flickered with something—perhaps frustration, perhaps regret—but he kept his expression neutral. “I’m leaving for Pentos. It’s time.”

Aegon sat up slightly, still perplexed. “Pentos? What in the seven hells are you going to do in Pentos? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Aemond crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “Because it’s not your decision to make, brother. My place is elsewhere now.”

Aegon scratched his head, clearly still half-asleep and utterly confused. “Didn’t we talk about this already? Why does everyone keep leaving for Pentos? Am I missing something?”

You placed a comforting hand on Aegon’s shoulder, smiling at him reassuringly. “Don’t worry, love. You’re not missing anything important. Aemond’s just… moving on to new things.” You gave Aemond a pointed look, silently communicating that whatever unresolved issues he had could stay unresolved.

Aemond’s eye met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered there—something ambiguous, something unspoken. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen that look, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. But now wasn’t the time for lingering glances and hidden meanings.

Aegon, oblivious as ever, looked between you and Aemond with a puzzled expression. “Moving on? To what? A vacation in Pentos?” He let out a snort of laughter. “I didn’t realize you were the relaxing type, brother.”

Aemond, unamused, simply inclined his head. “It’s not a vacation. But yes, you could say I’m… finding new opportunities.”

Aegon waved a hand lazily. “Whatever you say. Just don’t go burning any cities while you’re there.”

Aemond’s lips twitched ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead offering a final, silent nod. His gaze lingered on you once more—just a heartbeat longer—before he turned on his heel and left the room, his boots echoing against the stone as he strode out, leaving the tension in the air behind him.

As soon as Aemond was gone, Aegon let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms above his head. “Pentos,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What is it with people and Pentos these days?”

You smiled at him, patting his cheek playfully. “Don’t worry about it, love. He’ll be fine, and so will we.”

Aegon blinked up at you, clearly still half-dazed. “But why did he look at you like that? Am I missing something?”

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, your voice dripping with affection as you reassured him. “You’re not missing anything, Aegon. You’re the most important person here. Let Aemond run off to Pentos. We have everything we need right here.” You smiled sweetly, love-bombing him with all the tenderness he adored.

Aegon beamed up at you, his confusion melting away as he basked in your affection. “You’re right,” he said, his voice warming. “We’re doing just fine, aren’t we?”

You nodded, giving him a look that was both teasing and sincere. “More than fine. We have the sun, the sea, our family, and all the wine you could ever want.”

Aegon chuckled, clearly enamored as always, and leaned back into the cushions with a contented sigh. “Gods, you really do know how to make a man feel like a king, don’t you?”

You smirked, pouring him another goblet of wine. “It’s my specialty.”

As Aegon took the goblet and smiled up at you with that adoring, slightly dazed look in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Whatever had happened at Rook’s Rest, whatever tension still lingered between you and Aemond—it didn’t matter now. Aegon was happy, and for the first time in a long while, life at Casterly Rock was peaceful. Well, mostly peaceful—aside from the occasional dragon roaring at dawn, of course.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Mom Hera Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🦚 — lady l: I kind of thought of this after reading a lovely reader's comment and remembering some concepts about Hera as a yandere mother so... Here it is! Ah, @natashenka-br this is for you, I hope you like it! 🙌🏻❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, mention of manipulation and unhealthy platonic relationships.

❝ 🦚pairing: platonic yan mom!hera x gender neutral!reader.

You didn't remember anything other than that Hera was your mother. She was everything you remembered and loved, from your first thoughts to the present day. She was always everything to you and you were everything to her.

Hera was all you knew and loved, your sweet and loving mother, who would always be by your side to love you and protect you from all the evil that exists in the world.

All you thought about was how loving and perfect Hera seemed to be. She was so patient and kind with you, always encouraging you and applauding your every achievements with great pride. She was the perfect mother.

At least that was yours and Hera's point of view. There was nothing scarier than the goddess of marriage and women when she was furious, and luckily for you, that anger was never directed at you.

Hera was always careful not to show her fury to you, she didn't want to scare you and make the child she loved most fear. She would never have that, just like she would never let you leave her.

The goddess loved you with all her heart, her always serious and boring expression quickly perked up when you were around. You were everything she could want, you were her perfect, beloved child. If she could sew you to her side, she would.

Hera is extremely possessive and jealous of you, and that's nothing new. You are hers, her child and that says more than enough. She will not tolerate any type of external contact, especially if it's from Zeus. She will not allow him to corrupt you.

Zeus and none of the other gods will be allowed to approach you, with the exception of her other children. She doesn't really like the idea of Ares being so close to you because of his nature and she wants you to remain pure, but she prefers him over Hephaestus.

Hera, if she gets the chance and the opportunity, will leave you as a child forever. She knows you should grow up and live your life, but she doesn't want any of that. Maybe with a little persuasion you could get permission to grow up to sixteen at least, but Hera would become much more suffocating.

She will not tolerate any kind of possible love interests you may have if you grow up. You must remain pure and untouched and she will unleash her fury on anyone who dares to corrupt you. You were her perfect child and no god/goddess or mortal will lay their hands on you.

The goddess is overly controlling and if you dare disobey any rules she may set, she will be completely shocked. You were her perfect, obedient child, so why were you acting this way? She would blame everyone for this, Zeus's bastard children, the other gods and even her own husband. But she will never admit guilt, that the reason you reacted like this is her fault.

It's not easy to deal with her and it never will be. Hera is vengeful and possessive and she has eyes everywhere. You could never leave her, even if you wanted to. Which you don't want to do, right? After all, she is your mother, the only thing you remember from your childhood. And she would always care and protect you, even if she had to manipulate you into it. But everything would be fine in the end, after all, mom always knows best.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Heated

Summary: tommy gets into a heated argument with his wife y/n. in result, y/n gives him the silent treatment. he wants her to forgive him? he must grovel. on his knees.

Tommy shelby x wife female reader

Tommy slammed the door behind him, the echo reverberating through the spacious halls of Arrow House. The tension was thick in the air, and his wife, Y/N, stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed and eyes blazing with anger.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” Tommy demanded, his voice barely containing his frustration.

“Talk?” she snapped, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “All you ever do is talk, Tommy. And it’s always about you. Your business, your problems, your bloody empire.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “Everything I do, I do for us. For our family. You know that.”

“Do I?” Y/N shot back, her voice rising. “Because it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like we’re just pawns in your endless game.”

Tommy clenched his fists, trying to keep his temper in check. “That’s not fair, Y/N. You know the pressure I’m under. The enemies we have. I’m doing my best to protect us.”

Y/N laughed bitterly. “Protect us? By pushing everyone away? By turning our home into a fortress? This isn’t a family, Tommy. It’s a prison.”

The words stung, more than Tommy cared to admit. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.

Y/N didn’t answer. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, a mixture of anger and desperation swirling inside him.

The silent treatment began immediately. Y/N went about her days, caring for their children, managing the household, but never once did she acknowledge Tommy’s presence. She moved like a ghost, her silence a constant reminder of their unresolved conflict.

At first, Tommy tried to give her space, hoping she would cool down and they could talk things out. But as the days turned into a week, his patience wore thin. He attempted everything he could think of to get her attention. Apologies, flowers, even jewelry—none of it made a difference. Y/N accepted his offerings with a blank expression, placing them aside without a word.

One night, Tommy found himself sitting alone in the parlor, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The silence was deafening, driving him to the edge of his sanity. He couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly and marched upstairs to their bedroom, where Y/N was getting ready for bed.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough with frustration. “This has to stop. I can’t stand this silence. Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

She glanced at him through the mirror, her expression unreadable. “What I want, Tommy, is for you to understand. To really understand what it means to be a husband and a father. Not just a leader.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I’m trying, Y/N. I really am. But you shutting me out like this—it’s killing me.”

For a moment, Y/N’s eyes softened, but she quickly looked away. “You need to show me, Tommy. Words aren’t enough. I need to see that you’re willing to change, to put us first.”

Tommy sighed, feeling the weight of her words. He approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I will, Y/N. I promise you, I’ll make it right.”

She finally looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and skepticism. “Actions, Tommy. Not promises.”

With that, she climbed into bed, turning her back to him. Tommy stood there for a moment, watching her, a newfound determination settling in his chest. He realized that if he wanted to win her back, he would have to do more than just speak. He would have to change, to prove that their family meant more to him than any empire.

As he left the room, he vowed to himself that he would earn her trust again, not with grand gestures or empty words, but with genuine actions. And this time, he would make sure Y/N knew she was the most important part of his life.

Tommy Shelby stood in the dimly lit hallway, his mind racing with ideas on how to break through the wall of silence that had come between him and Y/N. He needed to show her that she was the center of his world, more important than any business deal or gang rivalry. As the thought solidified in his mind, a plan began to take shape.

The next day, Tommy put his plan into action. He made a few discreet phone calls, ensuring that everything would be perfect. By late afternoon, he had transformed a secluded spot in their expansive garden into a romantic picnic setting. A soft blanket was spread out under a large oak tree, adorned with pillows for comfort. Lanterns hung from the branches, casting a warm, inviting glow as the sun began to set.

Tommy had spent the day in the kitchen, a rare sight indeed, preparing all of Y/N’s favorite foods. There was a selection of fresh bread, cheeses, and fruits, along with her preferred wine. He even managed to bake a chocolate cake, her favorite dessert.

As evening fell, Tommy found Y/N in the sitting room, reading a book. He approached her quietly, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“Y/N,” he said softly, holding out his hand. “I’ve prepared something for you. Will you come with me?”

She looked up from her book, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of skepticism. After a moment, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her outside. As they approached the picnic setup, Y/N’s expression softened, a flicker of surprise and appreciation in her eyes.

“Tommy, this is…” she began, her voice trailing off as she took in the scene.

“I wanted to show you how much you mean to me,” he said, his voice sincere. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.”

They sat down on the blanket, and Tommy served her the food he had prepared. They ate in comfortable silence at first, the tension gradually easing as the evening progressed. As the stars began to twinkle above them, Tommy poured them each a glass of wine.

“This is lovely, Tommy,” Y/N said softly, her earlier anger seeming to melt away.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, reaching out to take her hand. “I wanted tonight to be special. For us.”

After they finished their meal, Tommy led Y/N back to the house, where he had one final surprise waiting. He guided her to the bathroom, where a hot bath was ready, the room filled with the soothing scent of lavender.

“I thought you might like to relax,” he said, his voice low and tender.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes glistening with emotion. “Thank you, Tommy. This means a lot to me.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

As she settled into the bath, Tommy waited patiently, giving her the space she needed. After a while, Y/N called out to him, and he entered the bathroom once more.

“Join me,” she whispered, her voice husky.

Tommy’s heart raced as he quickly undressed and slipped into the warm water behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. The feel of her body against his, the scent of lavender filling the air, it was intoxicating.

“I’ve missed you,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear.

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Their lips met in a slow, passionate kiss, a spark igniting between them. Tommy’s hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer.

As the water sloshed around them, their kisses grew more fervent, their need for each other undeniable. Tommy’s hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them gently, eliciting soft moans from Y/N. He moved lower, his fingers teasing her, drawing out gasps of pleasure.

“Tommy,” she breathed, her voice a mix of longing and urgency.

He shifted, positioning himself between her legs, their bodies aligning perfectly. With a deep, shared breath, he entered her slowly, savoring the sensation. They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, the heat and intensity building with each thrust.

The bathroom echoed with their shared moans and the sound of water splashing, their bodies entwined in a dance of passion and love. Tommy’s lips never left her skin, trailing kisses along her neck, her shoulders, whispering words of love and devotion.

As they reached the peak of their pleasure, their cries mingled, a harmonious blend of ecstasy. Collapsing into each other’s arms, they remained in the warm water, their breaths heavy, hearts pounding.

Tommy gently stroked Y/N’s hair, his lips brushing against her ear. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything in this world.”

She turned to face him, her eyes filled with love and a promise of forgiveness. “I love you too, Tommy. And I believe you. Let’s work on this together.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the bath and the glow of their rekindled love, Tommy knew they had turned a corner. They would face the future together, stronger than ever.

[eldritch-spouse]

What if Santi's Minx was a woman in a loveless marriage looking to take revenge on her cheating husband?

 

Basically, s/o is married to a rich man who would rather have sex with his mistress, s/o, who has a high sex drive (obviously she's Santi's match for a reason), so of course she is extremely unsatisfied, and the toys she's bought are just not cutting it anymore. So she thinks, "You know what? The children have left the nest, and I don't have to pretend to be happy with their father anymore."

There was a popular club nearby; she dolled herself up to the nines and left her husband a text she was going out, which he probably won't read anyway. As soon as she sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, the regret started sinking in.

This was the nightmare of every introvert. In that moment, she wanted to come and find somebody to screw, but now that she's faced with the options, she would rather drink herself half-blind. It wasn't until a handsome stranger with bull-like horns and hypnotizing eyes approached her that her night lightened up.

He was a charming fellow and very persistent, even when she stumbled over herself and stuttered like an idiot. She couldn't help but zone in on the fact that he wasn't human. Being raised among humans and only feeling the touch of a human made her curious about monsters, especially monster cocks.

Santi was his name; she would never forget it after screaming it throughout the night. Speaking of night, she was pretty sure none of her holes were left unstretched; all her demands were satisfied, and she came thrice as much with Santi's fucking as with her husband's. It was no wonder she eagerly snatched the card with his number on it.

Every day she had him, the more she started noticing small details about him: the way his facial expression twitched while reading a book, the genuine smile he would give her, and the way he looked at her with that soft look in his eyes. He was everything her husband wasn't. Sure, he slept with others like her husband, but he did it to survive; he did it to not hurt her. But her husband? Whatever excuse that bastard had, she didn't want to hear it. Santi was warm and her husband was cold; she'd no longer have to pray that her husband would find his way back into her bed so that she wouldn't feel so cold and alone, not when Santi was as hot as a furnace and all too happy to whisper, 'I love you's, back to her.

She decided not to drag herself along anymore; she was ready for divorce, but for a final time, she'd make sure to rub how much better she's doing with Santi in her soon-to-be ex-husband's face.

 

I can just imagine Santi's Minx planning a dinner of four for the two of them with her husband and his mistress. The husband's face pales when he sees Santi walk in, and he realizes his wife can do so much better than him.

Oh your plan is utterly devious. He likes it.

Santi's actually looking forward to meeting the loser that would rather be in bed with subpar scraps than a vixen such as you. He's heard this story a million times, men intimidated by the appetites of their partners, becoming distant, leading those partners crawling to fiends like him. That he'd meet his match in such a way is a massive stroke of luck.

Before Santi walks in with you, he makes it a point to ruffle your feathers and stuff his tongue down your throat. Enough so you walk in with some color on your cheeks.

The high-ranker gives you an award winning smile before handing you a small vial and promising to do something you're going to love. He usually doesn't deal in the kind of substances your vial contains, in fact, he's made it a point to destroy sources of such throughout his life. But what you carry is a certain monster's type of numbing "poison" which makes an incubus' charms and pheromones have little to no effect in you. If you trust him enough to down it, then you're in for a very fun dinner date.

The demon makes sure his hand is around your waist when he walks towards the table you requested, hugging the squish of your body as if it had always been his. He hardly muffles a snort at the little man you got married to. An absolute waste of time, the kind of male that does nothing in bed, something he'd bite for breakfast and promptly toss out the door. And the woman beside him, surprisingly looking more bored than anything. A woman who no doubt already noticed her only gain in being a side-piece to this man is the money.

Sad.

The dinner starts out cordially. Well, as cordial as it can be when you and your ex-husband are clearly having a peacocking competition. All of you order something to eat, Santi orders something to drink, many subtle digs are made at your husband's lack of sexual finesse, with Santi effortlessly setting up traps amidst the conversation, which your agitated and insecure ex-lover readily falls for. He doesn't make a single pass at his mistress, but she's looking at him anyway, for rather shameless amounts of time.

Then the fun really starts, as Santi begins silently pumping his pheromones out and shooting stares at both your ex and his mistress. It works like a filthy charm. While you are relatively composed, the man and his lover begin to sweat in place, to lose their cool, fawn over Santi restlessly. He brings them down to unfathomably horny lows where they not so subtly proposition him. And then, all control is handed to you.

In this state, they will do anything he commands them to under the velveteen promise of relief. So what would you have them do, minx? Crawl outside on all fours? Clean the soles of your shoes? Would you like to see Santi make them orgasm in their own clothes?

He wouldn't mind fucking them into putty just as a sign of dominance, but you get to decide whether or not that happens. After all, this is your special night.

[fancyfeathers]

Okay more thoughts on Trailblazer!Darling(s) for Yandere!Justice League

So just imagine if say all Justice League members had their own darlings and by some way the darlings ended up joining the Astral Express one way or another, like for perhaps some of them it was a way of escape, others it’s just where the trail of fate lead them; onto a life of adventure, and for some there have next to no idea how they ended up there but found a family none the less.

Life would be fine until they finished one trailblazing expedition and boarded the Astral Express, going off to wherever the next destination was until they stop at Earth with the Star Rail stability down and stuck there indefinitely until they seal the Stellaron which is blocking their path. Some of them are excited to be home, while others who are actively aware of the reason why they left are terrified…

To separate it down into just a few for now (saving more for later posts), I’d say Hal Jordan’s darling (who I wrote about here) and perhaps Diana Prince’s darling have no real fear. Like I said in the first post, Hal’s darling was found lost in space by the Astral Express with no clue how she got there and then I think Diana’s darling just saw the chance to join the Astral Express last time they stopped at earth and they took it, seeing what else life has to offer. (other darlings in this category probably include Barry Allen’s darling and Oliver Queen’s darling)

Others like Clark Kent’s darling and Bruce Wayne’s darling knew exactly what they were doing. Like Clark’s darling probably has been rescued enough times by Superman that something about their interactions just feel wrong, far to clingy and uncomfortable, not to mention her golden retriever colleague at the Daily Planet. She would quit and move but new jobs, especially in journalism, are getting harder to find and-

Then she has a chance encounter with a stranger brown haired man in the park, just silently observing everything around him as if something was off, not wrong, just off. He was Welt Yang, a former animator from a different earth and a member of the Astral Express and it was through him that she took his offer and hoped aboard the train that travels through space.

Bruce Wayne’s darling was far more aware on the other hand. Probably married to him and knew about his overprotective tendencies with her, not to mention that he is Batman and owns a multi billion dollar corporation so she was no way of getting out. That until she meets a dark haired aloof man, who certainly reminds her of the children her husband has taken in, when he is wandering about Gotham curiously. For some odd reason she confides in him and in return he introduces himself as Dan Heng, a member of the Astral Express, and invites her to join, and she does without a second thought. (I would also loop in Arthur Curry’s darling into this category as well)

For for darlings like them when they wake up and leave their train cabins and hear the shouts of…

“We’re going to Earth!”

They are terrified.

They stay back on the Astral Express when everyone leaves for the expedition and truly they have no intentions of getting off until they get a call that things have gone wrong, horribly wrong, and they need backup.

Then obviously the threat and disorder a Stellaron, cancer of planets, would bring to earth would not go unnoticed by the Justice League. So just imagine their faces when they witness their darlings, who they thought disappeared off of the face of the world a long time ago rushing into help their friends deal with this otherworldly threat without a second thought.

Then when the dust settles and the Stellaron is sealed they cannot avoid at least having a conversation, especially if it’s Bruce Wayne’s darling given the fact that they were (are?) married. Then they have to give the explanation of where they have been and what they do now, traveling the stars and sealing away planet destroying threats and how many times they have come into close contact with death or something worse- and oh one of their friends they travel with has a Stellaron sealed inside of them like a ticking time bomb.

Why would they let them leave again?

(Also idk why but there is this one line in HSR from one of your allies during the boss battle and it is literally chilling and it reminds me of this little series so much, “Witness… the will of the weak!”)

[thechaoticdruid]

Seriously, now!?

Astarion x Named!Tav

Plot: (Set in late act 1 early act 2) After causing a scene, embarrassing and being shouted at by their own resident wizard, Winnie storms off alone to sulk. Her monthly bleeding is upon her and is making everything seem so much worse! But perhaps her vampiric lover can make it all better?

Warnings/content: Period comfort fic (because I needed it), emotional MC, soft Astarion, Galeshaming (I'm sorry for constantly bullying Gale), Winnie is honestly being a bit petty, but Astarion doesn't care really, he's on her side anyway, angst, fluff, comfort, a wee bit of smut at the end, oral (female receiving), MDNI, possibly ooc moments, possible grammar/ spelling mistakes.

After finding only disappointment and danger from their failure at the githyanki creché, Winnie and her merry band of weirdos were now turning towards the mountain path that would lead them onward to Moonrise. They'd run into a little confrontation on the way, had to fight some undead baddies and then met face to face with the famed 'Elminster.' Winnie had no idea who he was, nor did she really care. All she was concerned with was that this guy came into her camp ate all HER cheese and then told her friend his ex wanted him to go kill himself. Needless to say the young druid was not that impressed. Despite dreaming of being a wizard as a child, Winnie had never heard of this man before. The village she was born in had been pretty cut off from the rest of the world so all the stories of heroes from all over were never told to the children living there.

"I can't believe you! Picking a fight with an old man." Gale exclaimed looking over at Winnie with disapproval.

"Last I thought you said the old man was the strongest wizard in the world." Winnie tilted her head in confusion.

"That's no excuse to get into a fist fight with him! Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?!" Gale shouted.

"My Gran taught me to kick ass if someone takes what is mine. Especially my food." Winnie huffed and crossed her arms. Granted Archdruid Winnifred the first was known for being a crazy old crone with a fiery temper and some outdated views. She also seemed much too calm when her husband apparently died in an owlbear attack.

Ah, but Winnie still missed her.

"Oh come on wizard, Winnie's little show was absolutely hilarious! Ahaha!" Astarion giggled. The elven vampire had been watching the chaotic scene unfold with a shit eating grin the entire time. The fact that the druid used none of her powers or weapons just made it all the better. Hells she even bit the old man.

"Hilarious!? She attacked one of the greatest wizards this world has ever known over cheese!!! A child has more restraint for gods' sake!"

"Oh, suck my dick!" Winnie snarled, quite literally making a wolfish growl at the bearded man before stomping off. Gale rubbed his temples before slumping off to his own tent.

"Winnie is rather eccentric at the best of times, but usually not this vicious." Shadowheart piped up, stepping over to join the vampire spawn.

"She has a temper, but I agree she's been acting more irritable than usual. You wouldn't know anything about this would you fangs?" Karlach asked looking over at Astarion.

"Must you assume whenever something goes wrong it's my fault?" Astarion crossed his arms.

"No one is accusing you of anything yet, but you have practically been glued to Winnie's backside as of late." Shadowheart raised an eyebrow.

"Just wanted to know if you knew if there was something going on." The tiefling female added. Astarion rolled his eyes before looking over in the direction of where Winnie had wandered off.

"Oh there is something going on, not that I'm the type to gossip about a woman's personal matters." Astarion ran a hand through his ivory curls.

"Fangs, we all know that's complete bullshit." Karlach looked at him with an unamused expression.

"Well, not about this! It's different. Even I have limits you know." Astarion murmured. He was well aware of Winnie's predicament, and if he had been completely honest he definitely would have gossiped about this sort of thing if it had been anyone else. "But perhaps I can go and calm our feisty little wolf down." The high elf suggested, hoping to keep the others from asking any more questions.

"Alright I'll go try to console Gale I think he's screaming into his pillow again...." Karlach mentioned before her and Shadowheart walked off.

Astarion looked over to where Winnie had wandered up, finding her curled up on her bed-roll under some trees. Winnie whimpered and groaned, clutching her lower stomach in pain.

"In a spot of bother are we?" Astarion looked down at her.

"Leave me alone Astarion!" Winnie snapped before covering herself in her blankets.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. I'm only here to help." Astarion sat down on the bed-roll next to her. "I know you're still mad that the mean wizard yelled at you, but if you want I can go and break his legs? Would that make you happy, dear?" Astarion practically cooed, a small smile formed on his lips as he ran a hand over her back.

"Maybe...." Winnie mumbled and glanced up at him. Astarion smirked, "I thought so." He gently caressed her head.

"I'm.....Sorry....I...I haven't been myself lately...." Winnie confessed before wincing again in pain.

"I know. I can smell the blood..." Astarion said calmly. Winnie turned bright red before hiding her face in her pillow.

"This is so embarrassing!" Winnie whimpered into her pillow. Astarion sighed before laying beside her.

"Well if it's any consolation...You smell absolutely delicious." He grinned looking over her before receiving a light smack on the chest.

"Don't be gross!" Winnie huffed, and then looked up at Astarion who was just staring at her. "I don't want to think about anything.... going on down there....right now... It's too uncomfortable..." She mumbled, before burying her head back into her pillow. Astarion frowned. Comfort was really not his thing. Whenever Winnie was feeling down, usually due to insecurities about her appearance he'd just bed her, compliment her and she'd be happy, but this was different. If she didn't want to be touched he was a little bit at a loss of what to do. Still, these gods damned feelings urged him to try something. Despite his best efforts to avoid it, he was growing attached to her.

"Come back to my tent darling." Astarion whispered as he pushed some of the druid's messy hair behind her ear.

"Astarion I just told you-"

"Not for that. I promise, just let me take care of you." Astarion sat up, looking down at the human female with a softening gaze. Winnie turned towards him and sighed.

"Fine..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winnie followed Astarion back to his tent with her things, she waited a moment for him to go inside and to take care of a few things before entering and setting her stuff down. She placed her bedroll and blankets down before noticing him placing pillows down around her stuff. She stared at him, curiously. Was this all some kind of plot? She wasn't so sure why he seemed to care this much. Astarion would usually mock someone else's pain. Sure the two of them had been sleeping together, but Astarion was quick to return to his usual apathetic self once out of the bedroom so to speak. Mocking any acts of heroism she did.

"Wait here I'll be back." Astarion ruffled her hair with a soft smile. Winnie laid there on the bedding, nuzzled her face into one of the cushy pillows Astarion had set out for her.

He'll probably just want to feed on me later.... That's it.

Winnie reached into her pack and took out a small worn out green dragon plush holding it to her chest for comfort as she curled up.

The others probably made him go after me because I was acting like a lunatic.....They all probably hate me now....

Tears began form in the corners of her eyes as she slid there. Winnie laid her head on one of the pillows before taking in the nice earthy scent of bergamot and rosemary. Her heart ached as she thought about the elf. The druid knew in her heart that it was meaningless, that he was just using her for his own gain, but she just smiled and went along with it, wanting to stay lost in him for as long as she could. With Astarion she felt something no one had ever given her before. She felt wanted. Even if it was all just a beautiful lie.

Winnie huffed, squeezing her eyes shut as tears forced their way out and began to drip down her cheeks.

She could see it happening almost vividly how he'd approach her eventually after everything at Moonrise was settled and done with.

"What were you expecting, some fairytale prince?" He'd laugh at her naivety and shake his head when began to tear up. "This is what I do. I give you a moment of escape with a world endingly beautiful vampire and you satisfy my needs. Cheer up. There's really no one better you could have spent your first time with. Especially with how homely you are."

Winnie sobbed quietly into the pillow. Her mind running wild with self loathing thoughts, imagining several different ways Astarion would break it off with her. Eventually after a while the tent flap opened and she felt a breeze brush over her cheek though she refused to look over. Astarion slipped in, carrying a well stuffed sack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes gazed over Winnie's plump curvaceous form as he sat down beside her on the bed-roll. Astarion set down the sack near the entrance of the tent before looking over Winnie further.

"Darling, I'm back." He said softly before noticing the little stuffed dragon in her arms. "What's this? Really dear a stuffed animal? You're twenty three years-" Astarion stopped his snarky comment as he noticed Winnie's red puffy eyes, her nose sniffling.

"Winnie....Did Gale come by while I was gone? Did he say something to you?" Astarion clenched his fist, about ready to go and shove the wizard inside his own bag of holding.

"No.... Nothing happened..." Winnie muttered. Astarion sighed in relief before looking back at the sack he brought with him. He opened it, taking out some wine and setting it down near the bedding.

"Then why have you been crying, my sweet?" Astarion asked, a worried frown formed over his face. "Was it something I said?"

Winnie huffed and looked back at him.

"No...I'm.......I'm just overwhelmed... Everyone depends on me and now I've gone and made myself look like a fool." Winnie said, half lying and half telling the truth. "And my bleeding isn't making it any better."

Astarion then proceeded to hand the bottle of wine to her. "Perhaps this will help your mood." Winnie looked over the bottle before drinking some. The flavor was sweet with a faint hint of bitterness masked by blackberries. She set it down before noticing Astarion fiddling with the sack again.

"I may have found a rather generous merchant nearby." The pale elf added as he took out a wooden plate with a wedge of cheese and a chicken leg on it. Winnie practically drooled at the sight before shaking her head and thinking.

"Generous? Astarion, what did you do to him?" The druid crossed her arms.

"Nothing! I assure you, he is still very much alive. I didn't hurt him....Much..." Astarion said muttering out the last part with a smirk as he thought back to how he left the merchant tied to a tree after robbing him. Winnie sighed before suddenly grabbing hold of the cheese and taking a bite. Her face almost instantly relaxed into a smile as she savored the taste biting into the chicken next. Astarion watched her contently as he made himself comfortable on the bed-roll beside her. She finished the food before setting the plate to the side and relaxing.

"Thank you. I think I feel a bit better now." Winnie murmured before looking back at Astarion.

"Happy to help, although I do expect to be paid back in full for my trouble." Astarion smiled, lips forming an awkward looking grinch like grin.

"Oh....Um... Would this work?" She pulled down her shirt, exposing her neck and shoulder to him.

"A kiss will do for now." He said, moving her hand away from her neck. Winnie blushed darkly before nodding. The brunette haired female leaned in with her lips puckered before pressing them to his sweetly. Her kiss was chaste and innocent as in lingered upon his lips. He cupped her face, returning it before pulling back and pecking her forehead.

"Ahh!" Winnie grunted in pain as Astarion pulled away, hand moving down clutch her abdomen.

"Fucking hells, why does my body hate me!" She cursed.

"Probably getting back at you for not letting me inside." Astarion joked before moving closer to her. He moved a hand over her stomach. "May I? I won't do anything perverse. I promise."

Winnie bit her lip for a moment before nodding. Astarion slid his hand under her shirt and began to rub soothing gentle circles around her lower stomach. Winnie sighed in relief, before leaning against him. Astarion smiled and laid his head on her shoulder, continuing his motions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Gale looked around searching for one of his wizard tomes he'd forgotten he lent to Winnie just a few days prior. The wizard groaned at the prospect of possibly invoking the moody druid's wrath once more, but that was indeed a very important book! Quickly he made his way over to where he remembered Winnie had set up camp before eventually being met with an empty space.

He turned and retraced his steps before looking over to Astarion's crimson red tent with curiosity.

The wizard stepped over towards the shelter cautiously until the faint sound of soft feminine whimpers hit his ears. Inside the tent Winnie laid back against the bed-roll, pillow pulled over her bright red face as she moaned into it. All the while Astarion had his head buried between her legs, one of her thick thighs slung over his shoulder as he feasted on her.

"Uh....Winnie....D-Do you still have that tome I lent you?" The wizard stammered out, face turning bright red.

Astarion's brows knit together in annoyance before he pulled his tongue out of the druid's cunt.

"She's currently quite occupied, Gale. Now do piss off!" The vampire hissed out before returning to ravishing the human female. Winnie herself wasn't able to form any coherent sentences while the pale elf had her in his clutches, but eventually later on she returned Gale's book to him and eventually apologized for the scene she caused yesterday.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note from TheChaoticDruid: Hope you enjoyed! I admit this is a completely self indulgent fic that was kinda a spur of the moment thing. I've seen a lot of period comfort fics that more so focus on the pain and mess than the emotional aspects of it so I wanted to put a bit of focus on that, cause honestly when it happens to me I have a tendency to be rather mean. Of course this is a little exaggerated for laughs in the beginning, but sometimes when it happens you feel like everyone is out to get ya and you wanna tear people's heads off over the littlest of things. I was a little afraid I might have made Astarion a little too soft, but given it's close to his act 2 confession I think it can maybe work.

~Druid

[themoodyestj]

I'm actually friends with a married couple, they've been together for a while, and they are adorable. one time I heard her call him a retarded pig, and I thought "wow, rude" but, you know how he responded? he started making pig noises on her face, and she freaking melted at that. he jokingly calls her an evil dictator and whenever she asks his opinion he always replies first with "I don't know, you are the dictator here, tell me what to do" I've heard her say things to him that are way meaner than anything Danneel has ever said about Jensen, but whenever anyone points out to them that she's too mean to him, he's like " oh yeah she treats me like trash, please help me" in a melodramatic voice. please note that I'm talking about adults here, older than 30. point is some couples are like that but that doesn't mean they don't love each other and even if they are my friends, I'm not entitled to poke my nose onto their business.

Ok, first of all, if you're the same anon from before, thank you for reading my reply and for using critical thinking while interpreting it. It makes you a far smarter anon than the ones I have been talking to this week. It is actually a pleasure to talk to someone who actually tries to consider a different opinion even if they disagree. You have my full respect.

Also, thank you for your anecdote about your friends, it actually helps me make my point. People have weird dynamics, right? We can be easy on making a wrong judgement, and even though I have a very strong opinion about this, I don't assume I know everything. But let me show you why i feel your friend's case is actually different: one time I heard her call him a retarded pig, and I thought "wow, rude" but, you know how he responded? he started making pig noises on her face, and she freaking melted at that. he jokingly calls her an evil dictator Here's the difference between laughing at and laughing with: he clapped back. It's an established dynamic between them, they both give as good as it gets but they know what the other means. In J and D's case, it's only her doing the talking, and he's taking it. Most often than not, he's praising her, but im yet to hear her say something nice about Jensen. It's not balanced, it's not a game with the same rules for both. Even the setting is different: would your friend call her spouse a retarded pig in front of his boss, or in a setting where he needs to look professional and presentable? D does it in interviews, where Jensen is trying to establish his image. Of course couples will have a weird dynamic in more private environments. But when a spouse refuses to adapt to the environment for the couple's needs (because his needs are the couple's needs) and uses said environment as a platform for veiled verbal abuse as a way to become relevant... that screams disrespect. Especially because he's making the money to feed her children, but even if he wasn't. whenever she asks his opinion he always replies first with "I don't know, you are the dictator here, tell me what to do" She asked his opinion! She considered his feelings! J, at some point in time, expressed his wish to take a break and live a bit more with the kids. He even expressed his joy for simple things, like spreading peanut butter in his kids' toast. He was away for months on end while shooting, he wanted to enjoy his family, and what does she tell him (which the AAs surely supported): "Get a job." Never once he said (to my knowledge) that they sat and discussed things. She mocked him for wanting to stay at home, and told him to get a job, even though she has none. I bet even though your friend's husband calls her a dictator, he deep down knows that if he expressed his opinion, it would be considered. I know other couples have different dynamics, different love languages, and they may not all make sense to me, but there will always be something that tells me they're in love with each other.If it's not words, it's actions. It's a mutual touch. A mutual understanding with their eyes. Something that tells me wihout telling me they are in the same team. Something that needs no words, but it's still there. I'm yet to figure out what Danneel's love language is. I've never seen an ounce of love in her. Not even self love, to be honest.

[beautifulloverwitch]

By Fire, Sea and Blood

The untold tale of an approaching collapse

Chapter three: Look at her now.

previous ///// next

Summary: An attempt to push the children together, unite them as the one, seemed to only gnaw at the growing rift between them all.

__________________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (strong! oc)

wc: 7k

warnings: assault

Taglist: Open

Masterlist

The king found himself struggling to enjoy the magnificent model he would commonly take delight in assembling. An intricate model of what the histories attempted to put into words of the indescribable Valyrian capital. Whenever he was away from the prolonged and sometimes uneventful council sessions, he would allow his eyes to skim over each intricate detail of the stone display. Not shying away from expressing his disapproval regarding any errors that so slightly contradicted what he had envisioned. Today a great concern rests upon his mind, the ever-growing tension between his family haunting his every step.

“Your grace? Are today’s changes to your liking? If not, I shall call for the stonemasons to return” his squire asked, confused by his king’s lack of interest today.

His silence even startled his wife who sat by the table the two so commonly conversed on, she glanced over her shoulder to her pondering husband.

The king arose from his dwelling sea of thoughts and looked up at the awaiting squire “No need, Eddard,” he spoke, he gestured to him “let us continue another day.”

Alicent’s narrowed gaze followed the squire as he left before she worriedly looked at the troubled Viserys “Is everything alright Viserys?”

He looked to her and sighed, groaning as he stood up and made his way to join her at the table “I’ve found myself consumed with worry these passing moons,” he explained as he attempted to word his concerns.

“What kind?” Alicent sounded eager to know, she had hoped he’d begun to realise her own concerns.

“The boys,” he addressed, bewilderment written across his features, his thoughts distracted him enough that he had not noticed Alicent’s hopeful expression “All that I have tried to do, nothing has quelled the animosity between them!”

Alicent sighed in dismay “Your kind intentions should not be wasted my King,” she explained, taking a sip from her cup “you’ve done all you could.”

He shook his head in disagreement “not enough,” he muttered to himself before looking to her again, curious to ask, “How has time treated Helaena and Daenerys’s friendship,” He was worried the animosity had corrupted even their pure bond.

She hummed before answering “They’re doing well, they care not for the boy’s hostility of one another,” she frowned in confusion as she stated aloud “even Aemond seems to have grown fond of princess Daenerys,” the words tasted bitter, for She was quite contented by the rift between her sons and Rhaenyra’s boys. Daenerys seemed to be a strongly rooted obstacle that proved a great challenge in maintaining that rift.

He pondered for a moment, speaking his thoughts aloud “Aemond, Helaena, and Dany have always been fond of one another, why is it so difficult for them to maintain sentiments for the lot of them?” the longer he spoke of their hostility, his voice would waver with anger “I had hoped Jace, and Daeron would grow to have the fondness those three seem to share.”

Alicent shook her head, hands resting upon her lap as she patronisingly spoke to him “My king, two boys being milk brothers does not garner amity.”

The king huffed, recalling what became of their third son “you speak as though it was not you who had sent Daeron away so soon,” he spat, still irked by the decision to have the boy sent away from his home at the young age of five. A sigh escaped him as he realised the venom of his words made his wife sink into her seat “all I wish is for this family to be united, for the boys to not stand against one another but together,” his fist clenching as his tender voice spoke of the dream he so longed for “there will be a time when none of us will be there to protect them,” his fingers running over his gloved hand, concealing the decaying finger beneath it “I only wish for them to be allied together when such a time comes.”

Alicents brow knitted together as she pictured such a future, a future where she would not be there to protect her children. Imagining who would take her place, she had considered, for a mere moment Viserys’s dream of a future they were absent from, but the vines of a delusion born of deception tightened their grasp on her again. A world absent of Viserys would be a world full of Rhaenyra, with a crown decorating her head. A crown with four hands gripping it tightly.

Falling back to her ways she voiced “Those boys are barbaric unlike their sister,” earning a disapproving stare from her husband “you can’t expect them to change.”

“Our boys are no different,” at their mention, Alicent seemingly did not appreciate Viserys placing them on equal grounds as she lowered her hardened gaze to the ground “and there is still time for them all to learn.”

His words caused Alicent to look back up, wary as she noticed his fingers fiddle with his bandaged little finger, something he would always do whenever he was considering an important decision “I’ve made the decision, that it is best for all the boys to do their princely duties together,” at those words Alicents demeanour changed, her head seemed to retreat backwards, perturbed by the proposal, words seemed to escape her as her eyes darted around while Viserys continued “every feast one of them is invited to, all of them go, whenever one of them is meant to be training at arms, they will all be training it arms, if one of them is studying, all of them will be studying,” he explained, he punctuated each sentence with a slap to the table. A proud smile on his lips as he looked at his wife, his smile soon faded as he noticed the look of disbelief on her face.

“Viserys, you can’t,” she simply stated, attempting to gather words “the boys cannot bare walking past one another!” her voice trembling with worry at what prospect such a decision could create.

“I understand your worry my queen,” he spoke calmly, raising his hand up attempting to dampen her concern “but that is the very reason they must go forth with it.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat “you’ve already made the decision,” her eyes widen, incredulous when he nodded “without my council, nor Rhaenyra’s, the mothers of the children you’ve decided to make such a ruling on?”

He refused to meet her gaze as he spoke “had I asked for either of your council, I would have realised the true source of this enmity between the children.”

She fell back into her seat, chest falling and rising as she attempted to subdue the growing anger bubbling within her. Her head shaking in pointless refusal before glancing back up at him “I would not wish to question your decisions your grace,” she voiced with forceful respect and acceptance for the decision “but I ask you to allow me the right to choose whom shall help prepare the princes for their duties,” this earned her a wary look from her husband before she continued “I wish for them all to be taught by the best mentors the seven can offer, might I remind you it was I who chose the septa for Helaena and Daenerys.”

The king reluctantly agreed, and she stood up, lips tense as she muttered “Your grace,” before leaving his chambers. He sighed, jaw clenching as one of the figurines shattered to the ground after Alicent slammed the door to his chambers rudely shut.

The three boys awkwardly stood beside one another as they awaited their mentor to offer them their weapons, the fourth boy absent for he was deemed far too young to be trained in the art of the sword. Their mentor was a man with coal black and lush hair, his attire the coveted white of a member of the Kings guard. He approached the boys with three wooden swords in hand, handing it over to Aegon and Aemond while shoving one towards Jace. The boy clutched the blunt blade in his arms, a fearful look on his face as he watched the man walk away.

“I was appointed by the queen to instruct you all to become formidable swordsmen,” he announced, hands resting on the hilt of his wooden blade, his piercing eyes scanning over the three princes “you all may be in your earnest ages but your training will still be harsh, and I am intolerant of any unnecessary weakness displayed by any of you,” he glanced to Jace, eyes sending a message of plain detest “this training is unavoidable, by command of the king,” he felt satisfied when he saw Jace cowering under his gaze “swords up!”

The boys raised their swords, all of them struggled to keep their arms extended as the weight of the swords caused their muscles to ache. The man circled them all, using his wooden sword to adjust their arms “let it be an extension of your arm,” he instructed, swatting away the other hand of Aemond “one hand prince Aemond.” Aemond nodded before raising his sword again, sword extended and arm as steady as possible.

Aegon had a proud smile on his face as he managed to learn quite quickly, the advantage he had did not go unnoticed by the two younger boys, but neither dared voice their opinion on it. Jace was soon to follow in skill, even though he could only observe for Ser Criston neglected to focus on the boy. Aemond seemed to struggle the most out of the three, baring most, if not all of Cristons attention. He swung at the training dummy, grunting as he twisted his wrists in an incorrect manner.

Aegon would notice his brothers struggle, nudging Jace and gesturing for him to watch the boy as he grappled with the wooden sword. The two laughed at his struggle and Aegon shouted to his brother “come on brother! A dragonless Targaryen must learn to fend for himself from the ground,” he yelled, earning a surprised laugh from Jace.

Aemonds face flushed in anger, vexed by his brothers jabs and his nephew’s laughter. He channelled his anger through his swings. Criston gave a quick glance of caution to the boys before advising the irked Aemond “lighter swings my Prince.”

An amused Jace spoke to his uncle “We shouldn’t even be here, what good use is swordsmanship on dragon back?” his words and their laughter did not miss the ears of Aemond.

He halted his movements, sword clenched at his side as he sneered at the muddy ground. Had he looked up at their taunting faces, he would have mistaken them for the wooden dummy before him.

“Did I tell the either of you to stop?” Criston asked prompting them to choke on their teasing laughter. Once they turned away, he gave a reassuring nod to the vexed prince "go on."

Aemond huffed out a shuddered breath, displeased by his reliance on someone else to come to his own defence.

Aegon and Jace from then on did not shy away from making little comments about the slow learning and dragonless boy. Seemingly, the Kings decision served well to bring the boys together, two of them at least.

“That will be all for today,” Criston announced as his eyes jumped about the three boys, not knowing whether to feel disappointed or pleased by their amateur progression. His eyes lingered on Jace, whom this time, had not been bothered by his stare, he was too busy joking with Aegon to notice.

The boys placed their weapons back upon the rack, the dragon keepers waiting to escort them to the dragon pit. Aegon shoved his weapon to his brother “If you could brother,” He spoke, not paying him any mind as he walked away.

Aemond huffed in annoyance at his brothers disregard for him, noting how Jace was quick to follow Aegon. He returned the weapon to its place on the rack and turned to join them. Fell away his annoyance as he saw his brother, his blood, walk away with the dark-haired bastard. Seeing his brother walk away with the boy left Aemond in dejected humiliation. His hands balled up at his sides, feeling the stares of the those that took pity on him.

Criston rested his hand on the tense shoulder of the boy, an attempt of comfort but the boy was quick to shrug away his pity and march off the training grounds. Cristons cold stare did not waver as it followed the two tormenting boys.

As the months passed so continued their endless torment of the boy. Nothing seemed to dampen their teasing remarks to Aemond, whose anger seemed to rise and boil beneath his skin. He slowly began to excel in every teaching they received together, he was swift with his sword and calculating in his movements, he would be prepared for every teaching with their appointed Maester, and courteous to every Lord and Lady he encountered with the other two. To his dismay, it never seemed enough for his brother to stop.

Months after the king enforced the rule upon the boys, Luke joined their sessions and to Aemonds misfortune, he was quick to side with the two wolves that continued to gnaw at him.

He attempted to inform his brother of his detest at how he has been treated these few months. He was given a false assurance that his feelings had been acknowledged, only to have offered Aegon upon a silver platter, another wound to prod at with his sharp words.

He blankly stared ahead of himself, the tome in his lap long forgotten. Fingers digging into the leather binding and oxidised paper. The look in his eyes void of the beaming light of the sun that shone upon the godswood. Lips squeezed in contempt and face still as he marinated in his own anger.

Daenerys was too lost in her own rambling to notice his usual silence lasting far too long. She glanced down at him from the tree crook she settled upon, worry whelmed her as she saw the distant look on his face. Hopping down she called out “Aemond,” a soft grunt escaped her as she landed on her knees against the dry ground, probably scraped them beneath her dress “Aaaaeeemmmooondddd” she drawled out, her voice held a wavering puckishness that fell away when he remained unresponsive. She knelt beside him, an arm around her knees as she tilted her head to get a better look at his face, her hand reached out and rested upon his shoulder and she called out for him again, the note of tenderness seemed to reach him as he glanced up at her “Aemond?”

His jaw rolled as he ducked his head, trying to ease away his anger.

“What has caught your tongue?” she jovially asked, resting beside him “you’ve barely flicked past a single page,” she pointed to the untouched bookmark on the tome. She chuckled as she asked, “I do hope your sessions with the Maester have not granted you someone more interesting than I to read with you,” she frowned when she noticed the sneer that danced across his upper lip. Her lips downturned and she rested her back against the bark of the tree, fingers fiddling with the compass that hung at her hip. The two sat together in a long silence, the girl sighed, the uncomfortable silence felt awkward to her, but she knew he needed a moment to gather himself.

words came together as his thoughts cleared, he asked “your brothers…” her brows knitted at the mention of her young brother “have they ever teased you?”

She was taken aback by the question, an incredulous look on her face as she asked, “what could they possibly tease me for?”

He abruptly interrupted “for not having a dragon, have they ever shamed you for not having a dragon?” He was taken aback by how her face suddenly dropped at the mention of it, dread overcame him as he accused her “They’ve spoken about it to you!” he bolted up from where had sat and looked down at her, the sudden action caused her to tense in fear “Luke and Jace have been ridiculing me to you, and you’ve allowed it?! All these months?” he shouted; voice wavering as he pictured her laughing along with her brothers at his troubles.

Daenerys frowned in confusion, baffled by the conclusion he had so swiftly arrived at. She shot up from the ground and remarked “what? No! I would never!” she exclaimed, but it seemed as though it was not enough, grimacing in shock as she saw him shake his head and begin to walk away from her. She chased after him and stood in his path, growing outraged by the accusation. He turned away from her, rudely giving her his shoulder to speak to “Luke only spoke ill of you once and I gave him AND Jace an earful to make them cease their taunting!” she explained. When she had first heard of her brothers’ jests about Aemond, she was terribly hurt by their barbed words. She was not innocent of poking fun at him either, but she knew that some open wounds were best not to be pried at, Especially with Aemonds fiery temper.

The first she was made aware of her brothers’ insults, she wondered if they had thought the same of her, for she was in the same predicament as the boy they constantly poked fun at.

Her eyes glazed over with the sorrowful sheen of tears “I, out of everyone understand the plight you and I face,” lips twisting as the young girl did her best to maintain her composure “to laugh at a struggle that I understand would make me crueller than Jace, or Luke, or your brother!”

His lips pursed as he pondered her words, hands gripping at his arms as they grew tighter around his chest. His brows knitted as he stared at the cobble floor, giving it instead of her an icy glare.

A shuddered sigh escaped Daenerys “why would you think I’d ever laugh at you for such a thing?” she questioned, fingers brushing over the knuckles of her hand.

“You’re their eldest sibling,” he muttered, his foot digging at the floor beneath him. His gaze slowly moved up the brush across the sky and back to her as she patiently stood at his side, awaiting an answer “younger siblings always learn from their elder sibling.”

She scoffed, her hands breaking away from one another “I would hope not,” she made her way back to the abandoned tree slowly followed by a wary Aemond.

“Why is that?” he asked, his voice now softer, losing the burning harshness.

She was subtle to wipe away the hot tears before turning to face him as she sat down “Imagine! To deal with one Aegon is enough, but two or three!” she jovially exclaimed “I’d be praying to the seven to take me sooner.”

Pleasant surprise splashed away the solemn and cold expression on his face before he laughed along with her.

She sighed in relief upon seeing the smile that tore through his often-dour face. He joined her and sat beside her again, seemingly noticing she awaited a response from him “forgive me for placing blame upon you, it’s just not fair,” he said, his shoulders slumping in sorrow “my brother takes joy in their presence, if I am not the hind of the joke, I am a nuisance.”

Her bottom lip jutted outwards as she pondered “Maybe he won’t realise it now, nor will he realise tomorrow, nor the day after that,” she looked over her shoulder, seeing his sorrow taking grasp of him again, she rested her hand over his, her words laced with sincere warmth “But no friendship compares to that of a brother’s.”

He glanced down to their joined hands, before looking up at her with a child’s sheepishness. She patted his hand “He will come around to realise the joy of your presence, just as I have, with time,” her kind voice assured. She sighed for a moment before proposing “as for my brothers, I will keep watch of them, I will… be sure that next I go archery training… I shall be closer to where you and my brothers commence your sword training.”

His face awkwardly contorted to relief at hearing her assurance, no matter how naïve it may have sounded he held it closely to heart in hopes of it someday coming true. To hope for some day, that he may share a trusting endearment with his neglectful brother.

He fiddled with the edges of his book before asking “Have you thought about your mothers’ question?”

Daenerys chuckled and shook her head “Will there ever be a day that passes where you don’t ask me about that?” she harmlessly chided “Have you ever considered to ask me about my archery skills? I have finally managed to shoot the target and not my father’s foot.”

“It’s an important decision Dany,” he defended setting the book aside before turning to face her. He struggled to understand her evasion, the reason for his endless prying was because it was the one topic, she seemed disinterested in ever discussing with him.

Rolling her eyes, her head fell back against the tree. As much as she had taken joy in his presence, she favoured Helaena’s more, a moment with her was always free from talk of politics. The pestered girl was quick in her remark “A decision which I am a decade away from making!”

The aspect of the throne’s importance was still foreign to her, she knew whom ever sat it ruled the seven kingdoms and was king or queen. She knew its history, she knew of how coveted it was by both noble and low born, but her knowledge of it ended at that.

“If a decade had already passed,” he slowly suggested, his hand quickly reaching for her arm as she began to rise from her place beside him “what would you say?” he curiously questioned, expression silently pleading for her to consider his question.

The bothered Daenerys pouted, as she glared at the unmoved boy. Sighing she stared at the ground, it should have been an easy answer, who would not want to rule the seven kingdoms?

The light squeeze she felt on her arm pulled her away from her short-lived pondering. Her hand reached up to pull at the lobe of her ear “yes?” she answered, wincing as she tugged her ear too hard “A seat so coveted, a responsibility so large, so… powerful, I see no reason to refuse it,” she explained, before looking to him. Shoulders rigid when she was met with what she perceived as doubtfulness from Aemonds eyes. Nails beginning to dig deeper into the delicate flesh of her ear.

Reaching up he pulled her hand away from her ear, clutching it in his hand. She glanced down, lips twisting the side, had the decision been asked of her months earlier, she would have said yes, but now all she could think of was the other option. She looked at him through the corner of her eye, relieved to see the familiar ungraceful grin on Aemonds lips “If it is of any consolation, I think you should say yes,” He was met with a jovial scoff from Daenerys, who tugged her hand away from his and lightly shoved him away. He chuckled at her childish action and justified “Only because I think you’d make for a great queen.”

It was true, for although Aemond had detested the fact that the throne was to be inherited by his half-sister once his father passed. He was more than capable of baring that if it meant Daenerys would success it after her. In his eyes she would make for a memorable queen if the histories were to be kind enough to her. With the right guidance, he believed she may be capable to mend whatever mess her mother would leave for her to manage.

They were aligned once again side by side. Three of them so huddled together that the fourth looked entirely misplaced, as though he had mistakenly stumbled upon the training grounds and was too ashamed to leave. They were also accompanied by Ser Harwin, the commander keeping watch over his trainee archers, but made use of every moment he could sneak a pointed glance over to Rhaenyra’s boys as he watched them neglected by their instructor.

The righteous Ser Criston hands were rested at the hilt of his sword, watching the near piteous swings of his newest pupil, prince Lucerys. He had learned to hide his disgust behind a face tightened by his years of upheld duty untainted by depravity. He tore away his gaze on the boy and towards his favoured pupil, the only who seemed recuperate far quicker than the rest.

“The weapon is an extension of your arm Prince Aemond,” he stated, the young prince turned to look at him attentively “understand that and your swings will be much quicker.”

Aemond sighed, his arm gripped tightly at the wooden sword hanging at his side “my strikes can’t get any weaker Ser Criston.”

Criston walked over to him and turned him towards the dummy again “Strong strikes serve you no good if you don’t know where to use them, and when,” He explained to him, his instruction not reaching the rest of the boys who would have made good use of his instruction “nor will they help you if you are without the speed to avoid the strikes of your opponent.”

His brow scrunched as he listened before nodding and continuing his lighter, yet rapid assaults on the flesh of hay and bone of wood.

“Your opponent will not stick to one place young knights!” Criston yelled as he strode around them all “move around them, evade whatever attacks they intend on making!”

Jace nodded, twirling his blade in his wrist as he prepared himself. The boy latched on to whatever instruction he could gain from the stoic knight, pushing it to its limit until he overhears another instruction not meant for his ears. He and the rest stalked around their opponent and struck every few steps.

Luke would look over to his brother and attempt to mimic his movements, he could mimic his brother all he wished, but he could not mimic his brother’s physical condition which Luke has yet to perfect. His face grew red, and breaths grew rapid as his arm idly hit his opponent. He grimaced as he dropped his hands to his knees, catching his breath.

“Congratulations prince Luke, you’ve been effectively maimed by your opponent,” Criston scolded, restraining the smirk that pulled at his lip upon hearing the laughter of Aemond and Aegon “lift your sword from the ground.”

Luke pouted, huffing as he stood up to face his opponent again, trying to regain motivation to impress the cold Criston, who had not spared the boy a moment unless he had made an understandable mistake for him to reprimand.

To the right of the field Daenerys stood rigid with bow outstretched in hand, clad in a simple blue dress and leather bracers. Behind her was her instructor, wary of each time she let an arrow soar. Daenerys was adamant on learning how to use the ranged weapon, her father was reluctant, and many around her attempted to talk her out of this ambition. Her mother found it odd at first, not many princesses wish to seek to have such a trait in their arsenal. But when honeyed words and charm wore out, her daughter would eventually need another means of protecting herself.

Daenerys found today’s session to be less than fulfilling compared to the rest. While her shots landed somewhere other than the centre of her target -a great improvement compared to her first session- she did not feel the satisfaction of success, for her mind was busied in keeping watch of her brothers and Aemond.

Nobles gathered around to watch the princess, who had gained the vexing title the bungled archer. Curtesy of her dear uncle Aegon.

Aemond would glance over to where she was every now and then, impressed by her improvement, and Light chuckles slipping from him, finding himself amused by how red her face would get whenever another arrow found itself upright on the ground. His sudden spike of happiness did not go unnoticed by Aegon, who glanced between his brother and his dark-haired niece with disgust.

Daenerys snuck a quick glance over her shoulder while she drew back another arrow. She saw Aegon gesture to Aemond while muttering something to Jace and Luke, both laughed but froze when they saw her piercing lilac eyes warn them to seize their laughter. Jace nudged his brother to quiet down before the two moved away from Aegon.

Aegon noticed them retreating further and further away. He followed their gaze and noticed the warning look their sister had given them. His nostril flared as he huffed, irritated by her presence. He glanced around the training grounds and noticed how everyone seemed to have their attention on her, the bastard girl graced with a feature special enough to distract them all from the plain obvious.

 He stalked towards his brother, leaning over his shoulder. A bewildered Aemond tensed, leaning away from his brother who had a menacing grin on his face “You think archery will be enough for her to protect herself? Should we invite our dear niece to join us in our training as well?” he spoke gesturing towards her with his head. Aemond looked at her from the corner of his eye, wary of what words would leave his brother next “Those eyes aren’t capable of protecting her from what mortal perils lie on the ground,” his taunting smile grew wider as he saw his brother turn to him, a silent message of caution emanating from his icy blue eyes “I heard there are people in the world that want to pluck them, right. Out.”

An irked Aemond forcefully stepped forward, away from his looming brother that stumbled back from the force of his movement. Aegon chuckled walking back to his station, merrily twirling his sword.

The action did not go unnoticed by the watchful Daenerys. She could only imagine what the exchange was about to cause such a response from Aemond. Adjusting her grip on her bow she breathed in.

“This is your last shot for the day princess Daenerys,” her annoyingly stoic instructor spoke, arms across his chest as he told “narrow your focus.”

She frowned in worry before shaking away every other possible bother. Stance open and arrow arm loose as she drew back the nock of her arrow against the string of her bow. ‘Just this one shot, just one shot, please!’ she pleaded, eyes focused on the bright red dye at the centre of her target. It was as though every failed attempt faded away as she restated her goal time and time again. She released the nock of her arrow and allowed it to find its path.

Her face softened with hope, the moment she let go, her body relaxed from its rigidity and her bow fell to her side. It was like a ray of sun cutting through a cloudy day when a bright smile tore across her face. The arrow once in her grip, was now protruding from the red dot of her target. She turned to look at her instructor, who had met her with a look of stifled pride.

She was alerted by applause coming from around her, the young princess was bashful upon seeing the noble men and women applauding her success around her. she bowed her head in appreciation before handing her bow to her instructor. Her brothers startled her as they gathered around her.

“You finally did it!” Lucerys yelled, jumping for joy as he pointed towards the target.

Jacaerys squeezed her arm “Father made a mistake not coming today.”

She shrugged before joking “maybe he’s been the cause of my shortcomings,” Her joke garnered laughter from her younger brothers. Glancing away from them she had noticed the approaching nobles and realised she had another important duty to attend to. She was not keen on another teaching from Septa Olera, she was only in a rush to avoid the prodding eyes of the Lords and Ladies “I’ll see the both of you at dinner!” She told her brothers, giving the two light pats to their heads before rushing past them.

As she dodged and weaved between the men and women, yelling quick thank you’s as she ran past. She regrettably had to run past Aemond as well, whom wanted to congratulate her “Dany, yo-“

She turned to face him as she walked back towards the stair “I’ll speak with you later Aemond!” she offered him a quick smile before rushing up the stairs.

His arms fell to his side, saddened by her dismissal. He continued practicing his strikes, his guard returned, Daenerys was no longer present to thwart her brothers taunting of Aemond.

Aegon glared at the faces of the dispersing crowd, who had not even bothered to gather around him after Daenerys departed the training grounds. Their disinterest caused his blood to boil, all she had done was shoot a toothpick through a cotton plate.

“Back to your stations Princes!” Ser Criston called out; he found the crowding of the princess unnecessary. Such a simple discipline archery was, he called the weapon of cowards. Too scared to get close enough to a fight. It was the art of the sword that should have garnered that attention.

The man returned to his attentiveness of Aegon and Aemond. Luke and Jace had eventually stopped their practice and simply watched. Criston had not cared enough to notice. Jacaerys had grown to find it irritating, himself and Lucerys were barely advancing in their training.

Lucerys took matters into his own hands once, he thought the knight had perceived him as too weak and slow. The looming shadow of wanting to be better, pushed him to take Cristons Morningstar, wanting to take swing at that weapon instead. The boy nearly knocked his own head off his shoulders, had the stone walls surrounding the training grounds not caught the weapon. From then on, the shadow of Ser Harwin strong seemed to linger inconspicuously in the training grounds.

Harwin would not shy away from sending disapproving glares towards their neglectful instructor. He whistled to the two boys, gaining the attention of Jacaerys. He gave a quick nod towards Cole before turning his back to them.

Jacaerys turned to look at his instructor, attempting to gather the will to ask “Ser Criston?” he gulped when he was met with the intense stare of the knight “What can we do?” He asked, puffing up his chest, he was a prince why should he be so unnerved by a king’s guard? “My brother and I have been doing for months what prince Aegon and Aemond have been doing in a week.”

Aemond had his back to them, his brow arching up as he smirked to himself. He heard Aegon whining, mocking the two boys. He did not hide the laughter that omitted from him.

Ser Criston hummed “My teachings have proven effective so far, young prince.”

“I do not plan on challenging a tree to a dual Ser Criston,” His bluntness startled him, but he kept his head high.

Cristons smugness fell away, instead it was replaced by the familiar jaded expression “very well, let us test your skill, shall we?” he turned to look at Aegon “Prove to me you can best Aegon and both you and your brother may ascend to my next teaching.”

Aegon was startled, glancing to the young boy. Aegon was at a great advantage, but eventually took the opportunity to place at least one of the Velaryons in their place. He swung his sword around as he approached the frightened Jacaerys “Come Jace! You needn’t worry, this will take me only a few moments.”

As their swords clashed it was clear that Jacaerys attentive ear was of great use to him, their prowess was nearly similar. Had it not been for Aegons height, their skill would have been identical. Jacaerys struck with force, while Aegons actions were erratic, he was stunned by the boy’s strength.

His presumption of Jacaerys weakness cost him, he was so stunned he had not noticed that his sword had been knocked out of his grip. He was awakened from his stupor by the young boys bellowing laughter of victory.

Jacaerys turned to look at his brother who mirrored his joy. He turned to look back at Aegon, hoping for a pat on the back, thinking the older prince to be a good sport about his loss. Instead, he was tackled to the ground, he was quicker to awareness than his opponent, fighting back against the furiously humiliated boy. An event the queen would be quick to latch on once she receives word of it.

Ser Criston was not quick to pry the two off one another. Aegon stumbled back, a quivering sneer on his lips. Glancing around him, attention returned to him at the worse moment, the judging stares of the crowd piercing into him. he could have sworn that the face of his mother appeared at least ten times as he looked around.

Such a childish display from the eldest of the young princes.

He cut through the unmoving crowd, marching swiftly to his chambers. He thought he had grown accustomed to the disapproving glares and painful criticisms of his mother, but to feel it ten-fold was something he had never expected himself to face. Never a moment was he seen at his best, always at his worst.

As he passed through the shadowed edges of the courtyard, he heard the sound of what he perceived was the goading laughter of the cause of his greatest woes. Daenerys Velaryon sat beside his sister, laughing to her hearts content, while he was made to fall to a shadow, she had never been in. whatever thought of rationality had drowned in the boiling water of years of anger and jealousy. His hand, as though with a will of its own, reached for the hilt of the dagger strapped to his hip. Such turmoil this day had been for him, and such a lingering putrid taste it would leave in his mouth, so he had to wash it out somehow.

Helaena had a pitiful smile as she watched Daenerys struggle to complete her embroidery, or even start it for that matter. She was hunched over, embroidery held closely to her face as she worked.

“Your hand is shaking too much, stop clenching the needle too much!” she attempted to reach for the needle only to have her hand gently swatted away.

“Septa Olera will notice that you’ve helped me on my embroidery Helaena,” She explained.

“How?” she questioned curiously.

She scoffed before resting the embroidery on her lap “all she’ll have to search for is perfection and discipline.”

“Let me at least tie off your thread at the start!” she urged.

Daenerys sighed and handed it over to her. She rested her hands on her cheeks as she leaned on her knees, peering over to see Helaenas work. She frowned when she saw her swap out the blue thread she had been using “My thread…”

“It’s frayed Dany, let’s use one of mine! Septa Olera always admires it, she’ll be sure to give you the same admiration!” she spoke credulously.

Daenerys found Helaena’s unwary demeanour terribly reassuring, never hid her intent, and never seemed to hold an ill one. It had taken her weeks to grow accustomed to it and eventually it became the greatest reason for her to view her aunt as a great friend to keep.

Helaena pulled out her favourite red thread, poking it through the needle before beginning her work “Break away a branch of red…” her soft voice spoke, but her words had not slipped the curious ears of Daenerys, she pierced the back of the fabric and looped back to pierce it again. Creating a small loop at the back of it, she pierced the fabric a third time and passed the thread through the loop “charging towards…” she pulled the thread and closed the loop around it “a dances end.”

She presented it to the confounded Daenerys, it was the only downside to her friendship with Helaena. The curious sentences she would mutter every now and then irked Daenerys for she would never be capable of deciphering any of Helaenas often concerning riddles.

Her surroundings petered out as she fell to the constant daze she’d go into after hearing one of Helaenas riddles. A sharp tug at her hair tore a shrill scream of horror from her throat. She tried to pull away, but her attacker kept a tight grasp of the handful of hair he had kept in his grip. Hair so long it reached her lower back, she took so much pride in the head of hair she had been born with.

The tugging had suddenly ended, and she collapsed to the stone ground in front of her, her cheek and palms scraping against it. The blood trickling from the scrape on her cheek and brow, and the burning of her palms seemed to not be of concern once she noticed the long tufts of hair landing around her. The braid that hung from the back of her head was now on the ground in front of her. Her lips began to quiver as she sat on her knees. As it dawned upon her, she turned to look at her attacker, who laughed at her state.

“Aegon!” Helaena cried out in shock.

Aegon clutched his chest as he cackled. Many began to gather around, gasping in horror upon seeing the sight, all of them looming over. The mortified princess stared at the locks of hair in her attackers’ hand with beating dread in her wide eyes, sobs beginning to build within her chest. Heart hammering in her ears as she began to shrink away. Her heavy tears began to pour so much that had she not been focused on understanding why he would do such a thing; she would fear that she would drown herself in her own sorrow.

“A few more cuts Dany, and we’ll get rid of everything else strong about you.”

One of the lords stepped forward, reaching down to the terrified girl, pitying her state “princess Daenerys… let me take you to your mother,” his hands slowly resting on her shoulders.

Like a dear running at the sound of a snapping twig she bolted out of the courtyard, the sound of her cries following her. Her once long dark hair, now a mess of length. She had evaded every one of the guards and nobles she encountered and disappeared into the red keep. Stumbling into the secret dark corridor she had accidentally found one day; the darkness of the corridor repelled her from making it a common place to visit. But her feet seemed to guide her straight into it.

Shutting the door behind her she shook her head, glancing to the left and the right of the ill-lit corridor. She rushed towards the sight of two rays of light, falling beside the worn window, and scurrying to the wall, curling up against it. The exhilaration of the run combined with the trepidation inflicted upon her by Aegon’s Malicious actions, threw the poor girl into a panic. Her face blemished by the anguish of it all, heart beating at a rate the rest of her body found it difficult to catch up with. Her limbs limp around her as she fought against this foreign feeling. The sound of drops hitting the cold cobblestone caught her currently frenzied attention.

Her finger tapping for each second that passed before the next drop of water splashed on the small puddle it had formed.

Eight seconds she had counted. Gathering her courage, she gulped and pushed herself up and against the wall, head leaning against the cold stone as she fought to regain control of her body. Heaving in a deep breath of air, for a moment it felt as though it had all cleared, but her breath hitched at the interrupting sound of the splash. With that she let out a shuddered exhale, finding a calming rhythm. Collecting herself with every eight seconds.

Her legs straight ahead of her, Staring ahead of herself as she tugged at her ear, she found it difficult to reach for her hair, every time she had, another strand of hair would find itself in her hand. it was not a clean cut; she could still feel the painful tension of his tugging on her scalp. It had not helped that the thoughts of why he would do such a thing to her began to beat against the wall of her skull.  With every possible reason that was denied, she eventually had to succumb to the fact that the reason of why, was to her dismay: unknown.

[picory]

getting into real personal territory here. talk of death in the family below

my grandpa passed away yesterday

for the past year or so, he had been living with my grandma, who cared for him as his health deteriorated. he grew weaker and developed dementia. if you’ve ever dealt with that, you know how hard it is. my grandma couldn’t fully understand what was happening in his mind, and she often grew frustrated, thinking he was lying like he used to. i’m sure she feels an overwhelming guilt now for yelling at him

it was all made harder by the fact that they hadn’t been together for years, separated because of his own mistakes. he wasn’t a good husband, and he wasn’t a good father to my mom or her brothers. yet, when his health began to fail, she was the only one who stepped in to help him. his own siblings wanted nothing to do with him. they were also old and dealing with their own struggles, i suppose. but so was my grandma. and still, she fed, bathed, and tolerated the presence of a man who, frankly, didn’t quite deserve it

i was never particularly close to him. he was an okay grandpa when i was little, but after learning how he treated my mom, i couldn’t help but resent him. to this day, she carries the weight of his harsh words, and many of her insecurities stem from him. how could i ever like someone who made her feel that way? yet, despite everything, she still has love for him. she pities him, for how he damaged his relationships and the life he ended up with. sometimes, she even blames herself, wondering if things would’ve been different if she had been the daughter he wanted. of course, none of this was her fault. he was responsible for his own failings

i’m relieved he passed peacefully. he got to apologize to his wife. he was able to speak to his children one last time, even in his weak state. though my mom had trouble facing him, and so, many things were left unsaid as a result. i wish i knew how to comfort her, but there's not much a person can do for someone in mourning. still, my heart is heavy for my her most of all

tomorrow, my mom is flying to armenia for the funeral in the coming days. i kind of wish i could go with her, but somebody has to take care of the pets

rest in peace, grandpa. you weren't a good person, but despite it all you had people who loved you, even if it was difficult to express. i hope you knew that

[horizon-verizon]

With the recent season of Bridgerton I rewatched Queen Charlotte and I was mentally comparing those women to Alicent because NONE of the three women who appear are good mothers.

George's mother allows dangerous procedures to be performed and keeps her son and the new queen at least partially isolated to preserve her power as the king's mother.

Agatha is an AS survivor and a true child bride literally groomed from the age of 3, unable to connect with her children and doing everything she can to maintain her new position.

Charlotte herself is forced into marriage, abandoned, kept in the dark, and her children seem to be a way of proving her love for her husband rather than individuals she is actually interested in.

Seeing how the three were received, I would say that there are actually people interested in women who do everything possible to obtain power and perpetuating patriarchy.There is no need to turn them into perpetual victims. HotD, which was actually the ideal space to explore that, decided to go back and eliminate all agency from its female characters.

Nice comparisons. I'd argue that not many women are perfectly "good" mothers even today because we still, as a capitalist, consumerist neoliberal society, put particular pressures on different groups of women, consider them public property first them private property of men in ways that we are very used to and thus don't always see. There's teen moms (esp poor ones with little to no sex education or locked in child marriages) and those with with not a lot of knowledge of how to address certain needs their kids have (spcial or not). Moms kicked out of their homes and having to raise their kids while having been abused themselves. Some of these moms (teen or otherwise) take out their hurt on their kids (the latter the more extreme manifestation), physically or emotionally. And so psychologically messed up but also, in some level, caring for their children from a genuine mother's love.

It's just as, like these women you listed, they experienced and were affected by their circumstances while making their own choices to meet the necessities or oppressions of their conditions. A paradox of life.

HotD refused to really address that. To humanize their women properly or let them express their rage, show how they try to obtain and maintain either a sense of or gain some real power. authority, and agency. Be more scheming on Alicent's part especially.

[xoemilyblunt]

you knock me out, i fall apart || bluntinski

who - emily blunt, john krasinski. || @jbkrasinski where - woodhull hospital, brooklyn ny when - morning of october 22, 2024 what - john and emily prepare to leave the hospital after the birth of their daughter when they receive unexpected news from the doctor. triggers - pregnancy, hospitals, mentions of hearing loss

John: It was surreal, having a third child – a third, perfect daughter – with Emily. In the days after her arrival, all they seemed to do was snuggle, Emily with Marigold curled in her arms while John wrapped them both in his embrace. It was amazing, and awesome, and all of the fears John had for the future regarding schedules and absences from one another paled in comparison for the love he felt when he looked into Marigold’s eyes, and then to Emily's with gratitude he couldn’t seem to adequately express. He wound up writing a letter and buying a necklace he intended to give her at home, but he still told her thank you over and over to the point it might be considered ad nauseam. Goldie was just so gorgeous that it hurt, and he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive. "Look," he said, watching the way the infant's fingers flexed inward. "Should we count them again?"

Emily: All of the ups and downs of this pregnancy, Emily thinks, were worth it to get to this bliss. Marigold is perfect, a little bundle of sweetness that has both her and John fawning over her every move. Now that a few days had passed, Em was comfortably in her sweatpants under her hospital gown, feet tucked underneath a blanket as she leaned her head against her husband's chest. "Do you think the number's changed in the last five minutes?" She teased lightly, one hand in the bassinet next to the bed as she tenderly runs a finger over Marigold's forehead. "I was going to suggest we bottle this smell and sell it, actually. So the counting may need to wait."

John: "We're not selling anything. That newborn, magical, not-quite-baby powder smell is just for you and me, thank you," John said, kissing the top of his wife's head as he watched her affection with their daughter. He'd never forget having Hazel or Violet, not for a moment, but there was something new ignited within their family after so many years that made this whole thing so special. And Hazel and Violet were just as excited, even Violet had started to come around and love on her little sister once she saw her small and innocent she was – not the screaming monster she'd imagined, at least when she visited the day prior. The screaming was sure to come later. "She's all ours."

Emily: She grinned up at him, teasing look in her eyes before she continued. "What, you don't want to make another quick buck, Mr. Richy?" It was easy to joke about that, everything having felt a little bit lighter since Marigold made her arrival. The disputes about having to get back to work, the temper tantrums their youngest gave them about not quite being the youngest anymore, none of that seemed to matter. They were a family unit, only made stronger by the newest addition. "She's ours. She has your nose, you know. Look at that." She lightly traced the curve of Marigold's nose, eliciting a little wriggle in the swaddle that has Emily chuckling under her breath. "Those Krasinski genes really pass through."

John: “I’d happily give up every dollar for those eyes,” John mused, almost but not quite tearful as he watched the love of his life with their newest arrival. Emily was such a perfect natural as a mother – a mum – that it was almost a sin that she didn’t have more children, the process of her being pregnant a pain that paid off perfectly with how easily she acted around the newborn. “Nose and name, she’s not going to forget which family she belongs to anytime soon. Think she’s warm enough? Does she need to be burped? …yes, it’s possible that I’m looking for an excuse to hold her. It’s been a whole ten minutes, you know.”

Emily: “Quite beautiful, huh?” She turned her own eyes back up to him, blue just like their newest’s, and adoringly stroked his cheek. There was a chance her eyes would darken as she aged, but for now, Marigold looked so much like Emily that it had her heart full. “Always looking for an excuse, I know you. I don’t think she’d turn down another daddy snuggle. Take her.” She settled down further in the hospital bed, trying to get comfortable still to no avail. They’d be going home soon, right? She longed to be back in her own bed, maybe they’d do the car seat check and get to leave today. Emily picked up her cup of water, sipping through the straw as she looked over at John and Goldie. “She looks so little compared to you, baby.”

John: John wasn’t one to say no to the opportunity or offer to hold any of his daughters, and he carefully cradled a slightly dozing Marigold against his chest as he sat on the edge of the bed and grinned across at Emily. He could tell she was uncomfortable in the hospital bed but she seemed happy, and he told himself that in this moment that was the main thing. Rocking the baby, he nodded at his wife’s words. “She makes me look like I’ve actually being working out. We should have a newborn every year. Irish twins, you said it was called?” And then he looked across at her and winked playfully, turning so she could see the baby better when there was a gentle knock at the door and an unfamiliar doctor entered with what had to be an intern in tow.

Emily: Emily gave a little, amused hum at John’s suggestion, because as much as she did enjoy being pregnant and the end result of it, having another baby straight away sounded unenjoyable. “Oh, Lord. That is what it’s called, but we’ll see just how that works out for you.” The two doctors at the door had Emily turning her attention with a little grin, setting the water cup down as they entered and greeted the pair. The older woman pulled a seat up with her folder cracking open, as the intern hung closer to the foot of the bed, peeking at the baby with an uneasy look on his face.

“So, everything’s looking like you’re going to be able to be discharged later today. Vitals have been looking good, Marigold passed her PKU and Bilirubin screening with flying colors.” The doctor flipped through the pages, scanning over the document as if double-checking something. “But interestingly enough, she did not pass the hearing screening. We did it twice, once last night, and once again this morning, and the results didn’t seem to change.”

Emily’s face visibly fell, as she sat up higher in the hospital bed. “Okay, so…what does that mean?”

“All it means is that I have to mark the box for abnormal results and you have to take her for further testing. We have some great pediatric audiologists we can refer you to, in New York and Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, they’ll be able to get some more specialized diagnostic testing done. It’s possible it’s just as simple as that, but beyond that, it’s just something you should monitor and take to a specialist. Have either of you noticed any delayed responses in the past two days, especially to loud noises?”

John: John’s face fell with Emily’s. He didn’t know much about the news they were being given except that it wasn’t good news, at least based on the failure of a test and the almost somber look on the doctor’s face. He held Marigold closer and tried to process the information, consider the question, glancing between the medical team and then across at his wife, answering before she got a chance to. “…I mean, she’s a newborn. She’s the loudest thing in the room. We’ve intentionally kept it quiet in here, even with the girls. I don’t… is this a permanent situation?” He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked over at the intern, fervently scribbling down notes like this was any baby girl and not their daughter. “She passed every test with her amnio and the anatomy scan with flying colors. Right, Em?”

Emily: Emily nodded along with John, confused look etched on her features while agreeing with him. “Yeah, we didn’t hear of anything abnormal during the pregnancy, or anything else.” The doctor closes the folder up, looking between the two with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Like I said, all I can tell you is that she didn’t pass our standard twice. There’s nothing further I can diagnose as the postpartum attending, but I’d highly recommend you getting her to a specialist by…” She checks her watch, to get a feel for today’s date. “Maybe either right before or right after Thanksgiving. I know the holiday makes it tough, but it shouldn’t be sat on for longer than her turning 1 month old.”

Emily’s heart sank in her stomach, especially with knowing she was expected to be on set right after Thanksgiving, but she tried not to show it on her face. Instead, she nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Okay. Yeah, um…I guess we’ll take all your recommendations for people and we’ll…talk about what works best for us.”

John: Thanksgiving? That felt like tomorrow and a million years away at once. John looked down at Marigold who was resting in his arms so soundly before delicately passing her into her mother’s arms, mumbling “I’ll be right back” before following the doctor into the hall. But there was no purpose for it, no answer to his questions. And he felt like his life was falling to pieces before they’d even reached a conclusion. He gave himself a minute and breathed in sharp and deep, before heading back into the room with a fake but hopefully reassuring smile on his face.

Emily: The doctor passed along the paper of referrals, prestigious hospitals that made Emily’s stomach turn at the idea, before leaving the room and the three of them back to their own devices. She folded the paper and set it down on the little side table, before John was leaning to pass Marigold back over to her so he could step outside. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and Emily envied the way he could step away from it all for a moment. Here she was instead, lightly rocking Marigold in her arms and looking down at her, like she was trying to piece together what any of this meant. The blonde glanced up at her husband when he came back in, but immediately brought her gaze back down to her daughter. The silence that sat between them felt louder than anything.

John: The smile quickly faltered when Emily looked up and away, and John knew immediately that he’d made a mistake by stepping out of the room. He could have apologized, but his words felt small and inadequate. So instead he did the only thing he knew how to do in that moment, sliding onto the edge of the bed and reaching up to rest his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “I love you, and I love her, and it’s going to be okay.” It was a promise he couldn’t keep, another thing that just felt plain not enough, but he had to offer something in the moment or the silence – the very silence that Marigold might just be living in – might destroy them.

Emily: She didn’t tear her eyes away from the baby, but leaned into his touch all the same. “I know.” She offered quietly, because even if she didn’t really know in that moment, she knew enough to accept that later on. “It’s okay.” Who she was reassuring at this point, she didn’t know, but Marigold’s big blue eyes were looking up at her and Emily wanted so badly to believe that it was in response to her words. “It could be a fluke,” she mumbled back a minute later, “those tests are wrong all the time. We don’t know anything for sure yet.”

John: “Yeah, maybe it’s a fluke.” John echoed, even though in his heart and soul he felt otherwise. He looked down from Emily to their baby, who was to them in every way perfect. Who hadn’t done anything wrong, yet, and as far as the adoring parents were concerned never would. He took in a deep breath, trying not to let it sting the way Emily didn’t return his love - she was stunned, he knew, from the news and from his running out after the doctors. “You should rest, Emily,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’ll – I’ll follow up with the nurse about being discharged so we can get out of here, okay? I’ll bet Marigold’s dying to see her big sisters.”

[fieldofdaisiies]

Ars Amatoria | ch. X

-all rights reserved-

Elucien AU word count: 2,9k words warnings: none

masterlist

“Of course, yes, and in exchange you will be provided with an army of a good amount of men. I will station them in camps around the city, in order for them be ready whenever needed.” Rhysand raises a brow, but Lucien gives his head a small shake, his expression solemn. “Thank you, we really appreciate that. But I would suggest to station them a little further up. Near the city of Pistoia. It is safer there and won’t draw any unnecessary attention to us. You know, I don’t want people thinking we are getting an army ready even though this is exactly what we are doing.” Lucien chuckles a little and also Elain releases a small laugh as she watches her husband with big eyes, listening to everything he says. But she quickly clamps her mouth shut and exchanges a look with Feyre. Her sister’s gaze speaks volumes — oh, you actually like your husband, huh?

And well, yes, she does. But it is too soon to tell if she likes him in a friendly way or if this is the start of falling in love with him. At the back of her mind she has a faint inkling that it might be the latter, but she quickly brushes these thoughts away. It is too early for this. 

As the evening passes and night arrives, the business talks also come to an end. Feyre wants to talk alone to her sister for a little bit, hence why Rhysand offers to bring their baby son to bed and also show Lucien to his and Elain’s shared room. Lucien bows at the waist when he leaves, flashing Elain a quick, but warm smile. Then he is gone, out of the room, but Elain still keeps looking at the door he has vanished through. 

“He is quite easy on the eyes.” Elain, with her eyes wide open in silent surprise, whips her head around to her sister. “Don’t let that your husband know that you think so,” she blurts out and laughs.

Feyre only chuckles a little mischievously and then guides her older sister over to the sofa in front of the fire place. They sit down together, Feyre turns her torso a little so she can take her older sister’s hands into hers. 

“But now seriously…how are you doing? How is the marriage for you?” A warm, sympathetic smile is on her face. “I am sorry we couldn’t be there for the wedding, but with our little son it isn’t so easy.” 

Elain shakes her head a little, and smiles. “Don’t worry. It is fine. The wedding was rather small anyway.” She inhales, closes her eyes for a moment and then blinks them open again. 

“Actually I am doing really alright. Of course, I was devastated when I found out I had to wed. A man I did not know who lived so far away. But I think I am alright with it. I miss Venice, I miss my old life, but Lucien is a good man.” And she always has to remind herself of that. Lucien is a good man, and he is her husband. She is lucky to have him as her husband. 

“He seems like a good man. And he seems smart. Very intelligent," Feyre hums, nothing but kindness on her face.

A smile tugs the corner of Elain’s lips upwards and a little giggle slips through her lips. “I think he is very smart. He always talks in a such a smart way. And he reads.” 

They talk a little about Florence as well — Elain’s new home and a city Feyre has not yet visited, but would love to see at one point. Elain promises to invite her as soon as possible which Feyre happily accepts, but adds that they will have to see how it works out with their son. They two sisters also talk about Nyx as it was Elain’s first time seeing him, he was only born a few weeks ago. He keeps his parents up most nights, but both parents are more than happy about him. “Have you talked about children already, or is this too early into your marriage?”

“We haven’t talked about children yet.” Elain presses her lips in a thin line, not looking away form her sister. “Makes sense, it only comes later. Or it just happens. We were always careful, but then, apparently we were not.” Feyre releases a warm laugh and folds a hand over her belly.  

“But don’t worry, there are ways with which you can prevent getting pregnant.” Feyre squeezes Elain’s hand, the one she is still holding. Yes, Elain thinks, for example, by not sleeping in the same bed. 

“Thank you.” Elain doesn’t even really know what she is thanking her younger sister for, but the answer seems to fit. 

“How are you? Does Rhysand have to work a lot?” Feyre tells her that he indeed does, but that it is alright, and they can deal with it and still spend a lot of time together. When both sisters start yawning, Feyre also guides Elain to her and Lucien’s shared room, kissing the top of her sister’s head to tell her good bye. Elain waves at her before she slips through the door and—

Lucien is not here. Where is he? Elain takes two steps into the room and hears her name being called, soft and gentle. “Elain?” Her husband’s voice comes from the bathroom which is adjoint to the bedroom, the door to their bedroom wide open. “I am back.” Elain answers, standing in the middle of the room, frozen in place when she hears water splash…against a tub wall. 

“I am in the bath.” Well, I guessed so, Elain thinks to herself, still not moving, her feet somehow rooted to the ground. Her heart is beating a little faster, as something in her belly warms. 

“I am done in a few minutes, then you can bath. I asked if they could bring you buckets of hot water for when you return." 

He did…? Oh god! Elain folds her hand over her mouth when a silly and bright grin breaks out on her face. He did! 

“Thank you!” she shouts into the bathroom, waddles over to the bed and flops onto it. She is still !grinning when she leans against the headboard, crosses her legs at the ankle and— 

Good God in heaven above!

Tendrils of steam rise from the bathtub Lucien is sitting his head tilted backward, eyes peacefully shut. His strong arms are braced on the edges of the tub, his long and wet auburn hair draping over the side. The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows upon the beige walls, catching Elain's eye. And oh, holy Mother! Who in their right mind would position a mirror in the corner of the bathroom, offering a view of the bath from the bed?

Elain’s cheeks heat up, but she can’t tear her eyes away, not even as her breathing turns a little slower, heavier. His strong shoulders are nothing but sculpted muscles and she nearly finds herself gaping. Through his shirts and jackets she has never seen his muscles that well, but now…now her eyes nearly fall out of the sockets. His shoulders are broad, solid and powerful and…God, he flexes them when he shifts a little in the tub and a few droplets of water trail down his tanned skin. Elain only gets the confirmation once again that her husband is indeed one of the Roman Gods, powerful and beautiful. She tilts her head a little, mesmerised by something as simple as shoulders. Even the muscles in his arms ripple a little when he moves once again. 

He could easily pick her up. 

Elain is slightly irritated about herself. Did she just really think that? Well, he definitely could pick her up. Lift her into his arms. Carry her around. Sit her onto the bed. Throw her onto the bed. 

And, oh Lord! 

What was this thought? Where did this come from? Elain is a bit, well actually very much, shocked about herself. About her thoughts. She has never had such thoughts before. It feels like someone pulled a lever in her mind, some reckless and bold lever, that makes her want and desire things. And that certain someone is… Lucien Vanserra. 

And this certain someone also peeks an eye open. Elain remains captivated by his broad shoulders, completely unaware that through the mirror the view from the bathtub also grants a glimpse of the bed. Lucien stifles a chuckle, his lips forming a lazy smirk as he watches his wife shamelessly stare at him. 

“Enjoying the sight, my lovely wife?” Lucien cocks a brow, a smile of pure amusement playing on his lips. “Maybe you could ask Jurian to paint me like that. Something for you to look at whenever you want to.” 

Elain’s eyes that have already been wide before, go even bigger now. Startled, she hastily averts her gaze, pulling her legs up and burying her face in her knees.

“That was joke, my lady. Don’t worry. I find this quite—“ “Amusing?” Elain huffs, not sure if he even hears her muffled voice. Her face is still pressed into her kneecaps. 

“Lovely, was the word I wanted to say. No one has ever looked at me like that.” Lucien hums and curls his hands around the edge of the tub. “But now—I actually don’t mind, but this is about you. I am getting out of the bath and I am very much naked.” 

Elain understands the unspoken part, but she is not looking at him anymore anyway. And although, she is suddenly intrigued…no, not going to happen. 

Only when she hears footsteps, does she lift her head a little, peeking at Lucien who stands in the middle of the room, dressed in thin cotton pants and well, nothing else. 

An involuntary sigh parts her lips when her eyes fall onto…onto the chest of an actual god. There is no chance that in his former life Lucien wasn’t one of the Gods the ancient Romans believed in.

His chest is nothing but sculpted, solid muscles — each muscle, meticulously carved but he also has soft edges and he is just…breathtaking. 

Finally, Elain musters the courage to meet his gaze, only to find his eyes sparkling brightly. A dryness settles in her throat, robbing her of words. Her cheeks and ears still feel terribly hot but she manages to hold the eye-contact. 

“I am sorry,” she whispers but Lucien shakes his head. “Don’t ever apologise for something like that. Never, for something like that. There is no reason for you to apologise.”

Elain furrows her brows, and shakes her head, her hands curling around her knees. “I was ogling you. Shamelessly staring at your exposed skin.” 

Lucien walks up the bed, grinning cheekily. “Is it so bad for a wife to stare at her husband?” He raises his brows in a silent challenge and Elain can only laugh at him. She smacks her hands onto the mattress next to her and just laughs loudly and freely and from the bottom of her heart. “If you put it like that, I guess not,” she says and realises how much easier it is for her now to speak to Lucien. She can just talk to him, he listens, he tells her things and makes her laugh. She can also be, and that is something she has only realised when talking to Feyre, herself. Lucien did not know her two weeks ago. He had no expectations and she never had to pretend to be someone she is actually not. With him, it feels like she can start anew and show this side of her that society has never really seen before. With him she can be herself. She can be Elain, because he does not judge her, he lets her be herself. And that is an incredible feeling. 

Lucien grins at her again, his eyes trailing over her face, before he drums his hands onto the bed frame. And then he makes that sort of noise you make when you suddenly remember something, his finger lifting. 

“Before I forget," he starts. "We need to talk about what I couldn’t finish earlier.” Lucien’s expression is solemn all of a sudden and he surrounds the bed. Taking a seat on the bed, he deliberately leaves a considerable gap between himself and Elain. His wife is irritated for a moment about what he wants to talk about, her brows raised in a silent question. But then awareness dawns on her and a small kernel of sadness takes root in her chest once again. She has nearly forgotten, but now that she is reminded, her happiness fades a little. 

“You brother’s lover?” she asks in silent voice. She moves into a crossed-leg position, a pillow place on her lap where her arms rest on. She looks at Lucien, a hint of unease and uncertainty filling her stomach. 

Lucien bows his head and before he can stop himself, his hand clasps Elain’s and he squeezes it. “You don’t need to worry. Never. I will never have a lover next to you.”

Elain looks at their hands and decides to believe him. For this moment, she will believe him. She lifts her gaze and meets his. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that. It is my duty as your husband to be loyal to you, no matter if this marriage was arranged or not.” He gives her hand another squeeze before moving it back and sitting up straighter, his legs crossed at the ankles. 

“Now to my brother….” For a moment Lucien leans his head back and looks up at the ceiling, not quite sure where to start. Nobody but him and his brother know about his lover, about Eris’ preferences. But Lucien knows he can tell Elain, that he can trust her with it even though this is a huge step and they have only known each other for a short time. 

“Why would he do this? Have a lover?” Elain finds herself asking before Lucien can continue. “Is he so heartless?”

Lucien shakes his head vehemently. “My brother is many things but he is not heartless.” 

Lucien releases a breath, long and deep. “My brother is a good man, but…his fate has taken a special turn for him.” Lucien's eyes search Elain’s. 

“You have to promise to not tell anyone.” Elain shakes her head and honestly asks, “Who would I tell? I barely know anyone.”

“You can’t even tell our mother. Nor Jurian, as you know him. No one can know, you understand?”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Elain clamps her lips shut as she grows nervous. Whom could Eris Vanserra love that was so bad no one could know? Not even their mother. “My brother is in love with a man.” 

Elain’s eyes widen, as she gasps. Now she knows why no one can know. The state forbids it. So does the church. And the Vanserra family is quite religious from what she has gathered. “I really don’t care that he loves him, I mean…I don’t really like the man he loves, but I don’t care that he loves a man, you know?” There is sad smile on Lucien’s face and he exhales loudly. 

“Who is he?” Elain finds herself asking, curiosity sparking in her mind. She actually would have thought she would be scandalised, to find out something like this. The church considers this sort of love and relationship, between two people of the same sex, a sin and she is very surprised about herself that she actually does not care. She cares more about the fact that Eris betrays his wife, but she does not at all care that he prefers men. It is his life and his life only. 

“Azriel Ardinghelli.” 

She knows him. Has seen him at their wedding. “He is the Mars to your Venus in Jurian’s painting.”

Elain smiles as it now all makes more sense and she has a better understanding of everything. 

“Thank you for telling me, Lucien. It means a lot…your trust I mean.” “You are my wife, my lady. Of course, I trust you. And it is a very good feeling to have someone to trust like this.” 

Their eyes remain locked, unable to tear away from one another's gaze. Seated on the bed, they simply sit, captivated by eyes of the other while the lowering sun lets its last strays fall into the room. 

“Now.” Lucien smacks his hands onto his thighs as he lifts himself up. He looks at the wall behind Elain for a moment. “I think we should sleep. Get some proper rest. I will claim the couch, the bed is all yours.” 

He is about to stand up when Elain stops him with a loud, “No!”

Lucien turns to her, his brows raised. “We are married, Lucien. I think we can share a bed.” Her voice is steady, does not tremble and so is the eye-contact she holds with Lucien. “I will hop into the bathtub, but then…” Elain pauses. “Please, share this bed with me, just like married people do.”

~~~~~~ taglist AA: @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @areyoudreaminof @acourtofthought @liftyourhipsformelovex @hallway5 @stickyelectrons @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @bibliophiliaxvignette @thelovelymadone @sunshinebingo @arabellatheauthor @autumndreaming7 @nestas-workwife @rarephloxes  @tuzna-pesma-snova general el. taglist: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional  @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[the-broken-truth]

If the Dryad!Male Reader really ended up being forced to reveal himself to the lords, on account of Mother Miranda using Heisenberg's machines to harm the forest, and from the ground the roots begin to grow and come out of the ground to shatter each machine and the green from the forest only the Male reader comes out with an annoyed expression, would Mother Miranda get even crazier when she met him face to face?

[The Dryad's Forest]

Heisenberg didn't know how Mother Miranda found out about his Metal Army but she did and she demanded that the 4th Lord use it for her will - locating the White-Haired Dryad and making him submit to Miranda as her husband. So far, none of her original plans have worked in drawing him out but after what Alcina told her - about the Dryad revealing himself when her daughters attacked a pregnant deer for food - she decided to attack the Dryad's Heart - The Forest and the Life within.

Miranda demanded that the Lords attend in watching her claim the man that would serve as her husband and the Lord of the Village, as much as the four didn't want to. Donna was intimidated by the metal army breaking the trees and slaughtering the animals while Heisenberg was commanding the army with his metal powers. He saw a wolf pack in the distance and forced one of his creations to attack the mother and her pups when out of nowhere, a cage of roots surrounded the wolves and lifted them out of harm's way. Karl was shocked but that shock turned to horror when the ground began to rumble and sharp roots shot from the earth, piercing the cores of the army, making them explode.

"My Army!" Karl roared out in anger but Miranda's eyes were wide and her mouth was curled up in a grin.

"He's here." She purred.

The Leader of the Village and the Lords watched as the trees began moving away and the figure of the Dryad walked out upon a bridge of roots before being lifted into the air to glare down at the people attacking his forest.

"You dare come here. Destroy my forest and slaughter my animals for your cruel sport. Why are you here and what do you want?" The White-Haired Dryad spoke, Miranda sprouted her wings and waved them, until she and her obsession were at the same eye level.

"I am Mother Miranda of the Romanian Village - I have been seeking you to rule the village beside me as my husband. You somehow managed to elude my Lords but I knew how to draw you out - the forest and the life within it. Come with me and be mine or I shall destroy the forest and everything within it" Miranda demanded with a crazed glare in her eyes.

"I want nothing to do with you or your village. Leave y forest or I shall slaughter your and your children." The Dryad demanded as he summoned roots to strike Mirnada.

"You have no choice, My Love, I shall have you and we shall make our own children even if you slaughter my Lords." Miranda smirked.

The words of the Leader of the Village made all of the Lords' Hearts grow cold.