#i am his usurper. okay queen. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blaiddfailcam · 8 months ago

Note

Which one is the gooder boy: Blaidd or Maliketh?

THAT'S TOO DIFFICULT A QUESTION ANOn

Okay let's see though... Both are obviously very good boys who reflect each other's harsh fate, as well as those of their Empyreans, yet contrast each other in the specifics of their alliances. So, let's break them down a bit, because I hate to give a dull answer.

�� MALIKETH —

It's still unclear when exactly Marika became a god, or why she was chosen an Empyrean, and the exact nature of her relationship with the Hornsent. Presumably, Maliketh was gifted to her by the Two Fingers way back then, and she could only become a god so long as the Gloam-Eyed Queen was defeated and the Rune of Death removed from the Elden Ring, which is precisely what Maliketh was created to achieve. This raises a bit of a question as to whom Maliketh was truly allied—was Marika really his mistress? or did he merely serve to fulfill the destiny that was foisted on her by her worshippers?

Let's take a closer look at their present state: Marika is, for all intents and purposes, dead, with a black-and-red shard of light piercing her abdomen; Maliketh mourns for her, yet growls in frustration over how she "gulled" him. In both of Maliketh's defeat dialogue lines, we gain a few insights into Maliketh's knowledge of Marika's state...

"Witless Tarnished... Why covet Destined Death? To kill what?"

...that he cannot understand why the Tarnished would seek Destined Death, potentially hinting that he knows Marika is already dead (and doesn't know that Radagon is now a god, and perhaps not even that Radagon and Marika are one).

"Forgive me, Marika... The Golden Order... cannot be restored."

...that Maliketh more specifically served the Golden Order and sought to restore it after its shattering, which we later learn was done by Marika's own hand.

Though for a time I thought Messmer might have been responsible for Marika's state, it seems far less likely given his dialogue in his fight, which suggests he doesn't know Marika is "dead." As it stands, the most likely culprit is still Maliketh himself, as he wields the red-and-black Rune of Death. He is a shadow, after all, and we do learn through Blaidd's quest that shadows are created to serve their Empyreans unless they disobey the Two Fingers/the Greater Will, at which point they are tasked with disposing of them.

It's possible then that Maliketh, though he adored Marika, only truly functioned to sustain the Golden Order as she was fated to establish and govern eternally. In fact, Maliketh may have had more in common with the Hornsent, whom Marika betrayed and inflicted an unforgiveable crusade—the altar in Farum Azula appears to depict Marika's Elden Ring, yet with the spiral tree motif visible along its spine.

Of course, there's still the question of whether her death was Marika's own intention. Throughout her reign, Marika was constantly sowing the seeds of her own decline, from the exile of the Tarnished to the shattering of the Elden Ring. Though she was imprisoned and practically executed for her trespass... it's possible this was her intention all along. In which case, Maliketh played his part perfectly without ever realizing he was fulfilling Marika's own wish.

Speaking of, let's move on to...

— BLAIDD —

Blaidd is abundantly clear in whom he serves: "I am Ranni's shadow and it's for her that I fight. Whatever any of you might call me..." Unbeknownst to him, Blaidd is fated to be turned against Ranni for eluding her destiny, yet he insists he would never do such a thing. Even as he's inevitably driven mad by the Two Fingers, he roots himself where he stands to protect Ranni from the vengeful Black Knife Assassins.

When Blaidd was given to Ranni, they were each children, and it was fated that Ranni would succeed Queen Marika as a carrier of the Elden Ring's vision, though not necessarily the Golden Order itself. Just like Marika's usurpation and subjugation of the Godskins, Ranni's destiny appears to have demanded she instill the Elden Ring with a new Order, one prescribed by the Greater Will itself. But Ranni refused to acquiesce, pursuing instead her own vision, in which she would abscond with Order and create a world without certainty.

Regardless of Ranni's choice, it's clear that Blaidd's childhood alongside her instilled in him an intense admiration for her. Even if his purpose was to ensure she followed her destiny safely, he rejected any and all manner of gods or vassals to serve only her... unaware that it would ruin him. As it turns out, Ranni and Iji were evidently aware of Blaidd's curse, and though they relied on him to assist the Tarnished, he too was ultimately "gulled" by his compatriots. And he still refused to betray Ranni.

While this of course comes across as tragically endearing, it's probably important to remember just what kind of person Blaidd devoted himself to. Ranni is largely responsible for the deaths and half-deaths of countless people throughout the Lands Between as a direct result of her assassination of her stepbrother, Godwyn (arguably the like, only truly diplomatic demigod lol). After the Night of the Black Knives, Ranni abandoned her assassins, disappearing with the death of her flesh, leadng them to exile and persecution. And despite all this... she never really shows a hint of remorse. To her, they were all stepping stones.

While I doubt Blaidd was involved in the Night of the Black Knives (realistically, I think Ranni would have taken precaution against involving the man specifically designed to kill her should she commit to high treason), he must know to some degree that Ranni is responsible for the state of the world as it is. This doesn't even begin to shake his love for her. In fact, it's pretty clever that our first encounter with Blaidd is to hunt down Darriwil, a traitor who's already imprisoned, and who literally can't even speak to defend himself; all the while, Blaidd never even offers us any information about the nature of Darriwil's betrayal. Later on, Blaidd seems happy as a clam to kill Ranni's own flesh and blood brother, Radahn.

The man has no real moral compass. He's obsessed with the four-armed doll. It's like his Jungkook. Embarrassing!

— AND THE GOODEST BOY IS... —

...Maliketh, lol.

As far as can tell, Maliketh didn't assist in any sort of genocide, as he was presumably hidden in Farum Azula with the Rune of Death since the very conception of the Golden Order, and likely prior to the string of genocidal tyranny Marika would unleash.

What's interesting to note about Maliketh and Blaidd's contrasting morality is that Maliketh is relatively faultless, but his purpose was to aid in the realization of a cruel world Order that unleashed an endless cascade of misery upon the Lands Between; Blaidd is aware of Ranni's treachery, yet they pursue what is arguably a more hopeful future, even if only out of self-interest.

They're both good boys, of course. But cute, doggy features won't hold up in the court of law! Under careful scrutiny, I, the public, have weighed the follies of their hearts and determined Maliketh the Goodest Boy of Ring Game!!!!!!

if u see any typos. No you dont

#elden ring #my ramblings #maliketh #blaidd

16 notes · View notes

theforgottenmcrmy · 1 year ago

Text

live reactions to house of the dragon season 2, episode 1: a son for a son

i'm basically doing this for my own amusement and reference, but i'm also up for constructive discussions on the episode if anyone feels like commenting

(but if you feel inclined to yell at me for any of my comments, please remember that these are fictional characters, and everyone is entitled to their own opinions🖤)

spoilers beneath the cut

it’s still the s1 recap and I’m already tearing up, can’t believe s2 is finally here

Jaw is dropped, actual chills at new intro. I love it

Winterfell theme=instant tears

Cregan Stark, the man that you are

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince” YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT THEY DON’T 🐺

The cave dragon-mounting platform setup? Love it.

“The mother grieves as the queen shirks her duties.” ~ harsh, but the truth

“Would that you were the king” ~ the queen who never was 💅

Rhaenyra 💔

Not Corlys commissioning a dagger for Lucerys😭 he doesn’t give af about blood, that was his grandson through and through.

Here we go, what have the Usurper and crew been up to….

Am I misremembering, or weren’t scorpions a relatively new invention during GOT?

OMG

wtf

I literally can’t with these two 🤡 like

The BALLS of Criston Cole with the damn cape like wtf.

Aegon, did you really expect the North or the Vale to answer you? If your councilors didn’t give you a heads up that that was not likely, you ought to fire them and get new ones.

Tyland and Jaehaerys😂 a pony ride?! These writers were in a silly goofy mood. Although, I will say it’s interesting to see the Lannisters being the ones to take orders for once, rather than give them.

Aegon really shows his age and lack if maturity here doesn’t he?

LARYS

LARYS IS ON THE CASE 🕵️‍♂️

The real question is how will he react when he sees what the dowager queen and ser Crispin have been up to. I’m gonna wager it won’t be pretty

Not Arrax’s wing

LUKE’S CAPE?!😭😭😭

I get they’re trying to make Aegon a bit more likeable this season, but as a member of the audience, I can’t help but feel like that would be SO much more effective if we didn’t already know that he was a predatory 🍇 ist 🤷🏼‍♀️

Otto needs to retire.

Good ol’ Larys, already schmoozing up his next meal ticket. Can’t knock the strategy though.

Alicent’s really trying to justify what happened to Lucerys 🤡

I’m getting the sense Alicent will have wished she kicked Otto out of the Red Keep herself by the time he finally gets canned

House Velaryon theme = always a banger

Mysaria’s accent is SUCH an improvement this season! 👏🏻

Daemon’s desperately pointing fingers at ANYONE who was even remotely close to Aegon😂

That little moment between Rhaenyra and Daemon was so little but said so much

“I want Aemond Targaryen” HELLS YEAH YOU DO 🖤🖤🖤

Daemon- “your wish is my command” 😇

I love that Baela accompanied Jace to go see Rhaenyra.

Jace💔 can’t even get through his report…

Rhaena😭

NOT THE DAMN TOY HORSE FROM BACK IN THE DAY

Jace and Joffrey😣

The fact that Rhaenyra and Alicent both accept what happened to Luke at the same time, but in different ways…. Cinematic poetry right there

A son for a son🤷🏼‍♀️

We love those in King’s Landing who remain true loyalists to the Queen🖤

What would Aemond think if he knew what the Commander of the Kings Guard and his mother do together in their free time🤔

Something funny about a man with no dragon experience and a young prince with no true battle experience talking about a war with dragons as though they’re even remotely knowledgeable…

What vengeance does Aemond seek at this point? Alicent even suggested it was because Lucerys was never punished for taking his eye… Aemond literally unalived Luke. At this point, the Greens seem to have all the advantage. So, at this moment, what exactly does Aemond want?

If anything happens to the dog I stg-

Don’t think Aemond would appreciate you referring to him as a “hound”, Aegon, but go off, I guess

Okay kicking the dog was so not fucking necessary-

Lucerys died during a storm, and it looks like someone else is about to too 👀

The fact that Blood is the voice of reason rn

Helaena💔 you don’t deserve any of this

Okay these noises are fucking AWFUL 😭😭😭💔💔💔

Helaena, not knowing where to go, going to her mother’s chambers🥲

OF FUCKING COURSE these two are at it again like- will they stop now? Will Criston at least have the decency to feel immense guilt and put an end to it himself?

While one can argue Criston Cole has a power dynamic to contend with in both situations (though I would argue he still consented to both), the difference is Rhaenyra was 17, and and Alicent is a woman in her 30s who also prides herself on being religious and practically pious🤷🏼‍♀️ one of them really ought to have known better then sleeping with a member of the Kingsguard, but I won’t say which one.

The Blackwoods and the Brackens!!!

Dragon eggs?👀

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon season 2 #hotd 2

27 notes · View notes

greenerteacups · 10 months ago

Note

…in the vein of GoT and ASOIAF, I would love to pick your brain on House of the Dragon (if you’ve seen it / read F&B!) and more specifically, your thoughts on the most recent season + retcons / changes they’re doing.

Loved reading your most recent ask btw it made me want to read the entire series (sadly I’ve only watched).

Okay I think the problem with HOTD is that while they're clearly leaning into the "maesters are biased, all history is constructed" motif in FAB, they're losing track of the changes they're making, and hence failing to keep the characters consistent. Making Alicent and Rhaenyra into embittered former lovers (textually or subtextually) is a cool choice, but they don't commit to exploring that idea! because the second half of season 1 is about the collapse of their relationship and their transformation into incredibly violent, resentful enemies (alicent tries to attack rhaenyra with a dagger? tries to deny her children the right to inherit driftmark? usurps rhaenyra, invokes a law that denies ALL women the right to rule, and sends aemond to kill luke (for all rhaenyra knows!) and just when you think you're finally going to see some good REAL nasty vicious lovers-to-enemies arc, rhaenyra is like "hang on. i gotta see if i can still smash" and does SeptHeist2024. and alicent then says NOTHING about this to any guards and just fucking. lets her go??? and then by the end, the woman who tried to carve out rhaenyra's eye with a KNIFE in front of the fucking KING and FULL COURT to avenge her son — rhaenyra tells THAT woman, to her face, that she's going to kill that woman's firstborn son, and that woman SHRUGS? because — what, she wants to go fucking wildlife camping?

in general, s2 feels like they've reverted these characters to people who can have the scenes that the showrunners want to write. all the juicy rhaenicent resentment and fury and thwarted yearning is boiled down into some milquetoast refrain of "i miss you :( war is hard :(" and a bunch of empty parallelism that doesn't make SENSE because these characters are not offered the same choices! the ONLY thing that was interesting to me in s2 is that they seem to be prepping for the rhaenyra messiah-complex arc (cf. the scene where she tells the dragon-keepers to fuck off and watches vermithor roast about 50 peasants with a stone cold straight face.) her relationship with daemon is way more nasty and dynamic and CONSISTENT than her relationship with alicent because i think they're balking and reluctant to let rhaenicent be as nasty and spiteful and jealous as daemyra is! but like! that's the POINT! none of these people are good or virtuous and their relationships are all terminally fucked by the weight of the duties levied on their shoulders! it's the cycle of violence! let them perform cyclical violence to each other!!

anyway it's like. i think the show has a lot of promise. i STILL am hype for s3 because i think this could be mid-stage growing pains and you can still correct a lot of these wobbles in the next season. pros: good cinematography, GREAT dragon cgi, that way aegon does a spring-jump and vaults over the horse when he's riding to vhagar is fucking awesome. cons: too many scenes of alicent looking sad, not enough scenes of alicent being vengeful or resentful as is established for her character. too many scenes of daemon tripping balls. also not enough scenes of baela and rhaena having character or relationships. also not enough simon strong dripped out within an inch of his life and being unrealistically mouthy to the queen's husband. never enough of that.

#greenteacup asks #gotblogging

11 notes · View notes

downwiththeficness · 4 months ago

Text

The Usurper-Chapter Thirty Six

Summary: Lilah McNamara stole things for a living. It was tedious work and often dangerous, which made it just exciting enough to keep her interested. After botching a routine job, Lilah finds herself standing amid monsters. Wholly unprepared for the horror of living under Amaru’s reign, Lilah decides to use her well honed skills to thwart the queen’s plans and prevent the end of the world.

Word Count: ~5,000

Disclaimer: I do not consent to this work being copied or posted to other sites of blogs.

Start at the Beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

Lilah closed her eyes and bowed her head. She was so, so naive. She could admit that now. It was incredibly naive to think that coming to the cabin, that keeping distance between herself and her parents, would protect them. Lilah knew what kind of man Mr. Pickerelle was, and the information she got through conjecture only supported her understanding that he had no concept of mercy. If she allowed for the fact that he had ungodly amounts of money, the situation she found herself in made complete sense.

Of course he would track the flights into the country. Of course he would watch her for to disembark. Of course he’d have someone follow her to the cabin. And, of course, Mr. Pickerelle would take the opportunity to divide and conquer. It made far too much sense for Lilah not to see it coming.

“Are you still there, Ms. McNamara?”

She let out a breath through her nose, “Yeah, I’m here. Just so I know what I’m dealing with, how many did you bring with you?”

He laughed, “Oh, half a dozen or so. You’re not a great shot.”

Lilah nodded, silently agreeing with him. “So, six plus you. Gotta say, not very good odds for me.”

“No, Ms. McNamara. Not very good at all.”

“And, how many are at my parents’ house?”

“The rest. Fifteen, all armed, all wearing body armor.”

It was comical, the thought of so many killers surrounding her family, so many killers surrounding her. Lilah smiled despite the very real danger, “All this for one errant contractor? What makes me so special?”

An inhale, “Oh, don’t think its you that I have any interest in…”

His words kept going, but Lilah stopped paying attention. She focused inward, on the rope that held her and Brasa together. It was right where she left it, hanging taut between them. Lilah gave it an urgent tug, conveying across the space between them all the fear burning through her body. It was strangely easy to reach out her hand and feel him, strangely easy to feel his palm slide into hers.

What’s wrong?

He’s here. He saw you leave and now he’s here.

I’m on my way.

No! He’s got people on my parents. Are you there?

I am near.

How far?

A minute and a half. I’ve parked the car. Running will be faster.

Lilah would like to see that. Maybe, when they weren’t in the middle of utter chaos, she could get him to show her how fast he could be.

Okay...okay. I’ll stall him here while you take care of the dick heads over there. Can you do it discreetly?

I will do my best. Quick kills can be messy.

Yes, I know.

Be careful until I get there.

I will try.

Lilah’s focus returned to the room around her just as Mr. Pickerelle finished speaking, “...even you can understand that, can’t you Ms. McNamara?”

She had no idea what he’d said, but she was pretty sure it was a load of bullshit. That didn’t matter much. Not when she needed to buy time. “I can understand it. What I can’t understand is how you’re going to recover once it gets around that you’ve killed me and my family.”

“You are self important, aren’t you?”

“I’m...experienced,” she replied in a voice she hoped didn’t show how annoyed she was at his tone. “I know my peers. We gossip like old women at the hair salon. Someone will know what happened here and no one will want to work with you. It will be too dangerous.”

“I’ll raise my rates,” he countered easily.

“It’ll be lucrative,” Lilah said as she looked around the room for the best defensive position, “for a while. Eventually, even that well will dry up. And then, you’ll be shit outta luck, won’t you?”

She was riding the line between buying time and pissing him off. Lilah cringed as she listened for the response. Through the phone, she thought she could hear someone loading a gun, which meant she was leaning more towards pissing him off than buying time. More than that, there wasn’t a single place in the living room that she thought might survive a barrage of bullets.

“You’re still so young,” Mr. Pickerelle cooed at her. “There will always be someone willing to take the risk.”

Lilah rolled her eyes. She wasn’t young. At least, not in her line of work. Most of the newbies dropped out within the first year. Half of those who made it to five years in the field would end up in jail. If they were lucky enough to avoid burn out or jail time, they were usually head hunted by people like Mr. Pickerelle or dead. Lilah could count on two hands the number of colleagues that were over thirty five years old. Anyone over forty usually took a step back and let the younger, more driven contractors do most of the heavy lifting. More and more, Lilah was beginning to see the wisdom in doing that.

“You kill enough of us, we’ll blacklist you.”

“Oh, you think too much of your people. Everyone can be bought.”

That was the thing about rich assholes. They thought money could make up for having to deal with them. Yeah, money was good. Lilah liked money. She liked spending it on the occasional handbag or first class flight. But, no amount of money was worth cowering behind a couch, trying to figure out how she was going to survive an ambush.

“That might be true,” she said as she pushed the end of the couch so that it was parallel with the front windows, “but no one likes dealing with a bad boss.”

“Please, Ms. McNamara. You might come well recommended and you might have done some good work for me, but—and, don’t take this as a criticism—you have no idea what its like to lead. Prague notwithstanding, you’re not known for being a team player.”

Lilah ignored the reminder of the bad memory and said, “Team players don’t kill other members of their team.”

His laughed scratched across the back of her brain in a way that was painful, “Ms. McNamara, I said you don’t know what its like to lead. Its very different from working with a team. You don’t have the skills.”

She tucked herself between the couch and the kitchen island. It was the best she was going to get without turning over the fridge. Lilah knew better than to intentionally damage her mother’s appliances. The fridge might be empty, it might be the cast off from when her father asked for forgiveness after a bad fight, but it still worked. Which made it valuable. And, what was valuable didn’t get tossed aside. Repurposed, maybe. But, not tossed aside. Not in her mother’s house.

Lilah pulled the gun out of her waist band and set the phone on the ground at her feet. She tapped the speakerphone button and said, “A lot has changed since we talked last. I’m a better person. I’m stronger.”

Your Mr. Pickerelle is going to need to hire some new people.

Lilah blinked rapidly to clear the blur in her vision. You get them all?

Yes, Brasa replied, and she could hear the satisfaction in his tone.

Good. My parents?

Getting ready for bed. Your mother ironed at least six shirts while I was taking care of things. She’s very efficient.

She was so relieved that her shoulders dropped and the ache in her chest eased. It was probably five. She always irons dad’s shirts on Sundays.

Makes sense. A pause, then, I’m a few minutes away. Everything okay on your end?

Oh, everything’s fine. I’m bullshitting with Mr. Pickerelle right now. I don’t think he’ll wait much longer, though.

Are you wearing the vest?

Yes, and I have all three guns loaded.

Very good. Try to take your time with aiming.

Was everyone going to criticize her skill today? You just focus on getting your ass here as quick as possible.

Yes, dear.

She blinked again and heard the wooden boards of the porch creaking. Her father never got around to fixing that first step or the loose board near the door. Lilah focused hard and let her ears pick up every little sound around her. There was someone moving near the kitchen window, at least two on the porch with Mr. Pickerelle. That left three unaccounted for. She was sure that they would make themselves known in due time. Until then, Lilah had to keep stalling.

“You want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think,” Lilah said as she peered over the edge of the island, “that you ratted us out.”

“What’s that now?”

“I think,” she said again, “that you ratted us out. In Prague. Our intel was good and you know that. No one knew what we were doing, no one but you. What I can’t figure out is why you’d want to tank the whole team—good fucking thieves—it doesn’t make any sense.”

He sighed and it sounded tired, even to Lilah, “You’re an idiot if you think I wanted all of you dead. You don’t kill off good workers.”

“Guess I’m an idiot, then.”

“You come up with this inane explanation for your screw up. And yet, you kept working for me.”

He had a point. As soon as the thought passed through Lilah’s mind, she should have turned tail and run as far and as fast as she could. “That was my mistake.”

“It was. You have a habit of making mistakes. That cut and run on the team. Letting your man walk away this evening. You keep leaving yourself wide open.”

The motherfucker was sort of right, but Lilah wasn’t going to admit that. She’d let them put a thousand bullets into her first. Yeah, she’d made a bad call in Prague. Several of them, maybe. Yeah, she’d run from a job, which she knew would put her in hot water. And, yeah, she’d asked Brasa to protect her parents, which had left her all alone. Tough calls. Possibly bad calls. Lilah didn’t care.

I’m here.

Lilah’s smile was slow. Very small, at first, then growing until it spread into a grin that stretched her lips uncomfortably wide. She couldn’t push back the laugh, and it rolled out of her with the kind of relief that made her lightheaded. She started to drop her head into her hand, stopping when she remembered that she was holding a gun and it wasn’t over yet.

“Hey, Mr. Pickerelle?”

“Yes, Ms. McNamara?”

“I hope you’ve got a will because someone is about to get a massive inheritance.”

Before he could respond, a loud yell came from outside the kitchen window. It started as a howl and ended as a high pitched squeal. Lilah almost went to look when a spray of bullets shattered the window and embedded themselves in the cabinets. She ducked down, flinching when a second round of bullets went flying.

“Don’t hit the appliances!” Lilah yelled out.

They weren’t listening. Someone fired more bullets, hitting just about everything in the kitchen, including the ceiling. Plaster and dust floated down from above, followed by the sound of a loud crack. A long, crooked line worked its way along a rafter and the drywall began to sag. Lilah just barely dodged a chunk that fell down between the island and the couch. It landed in a puff of spackle before cracking into several pieces. She scuttled over and peeked around the edge into the kitchen. The cabinets around the window were splintered with their doors hanging off the hinges. Shards of glass were scattered over the counter and floor. And...the fridge was leaking water.

“Ah, hell,” Lilah breathed, “Mom is never going to forget about this.”

Scuffles came from the phone next to her. She heard the muffled voice of Mr. Pickerelle giving orders. He was calling his people to him for protection. Lilah was sure it wouldn’t do any good. She ended the call and shoved the phone into her back pocket. Another bad decision. If she hadn’t hung up, she would have known that Mr. Pickerelle was making demands to break down her front door.

A loud bang rattled the frame. Lilah popped up from behind the couch, brows at her hairline and eyes wide as saucers. Something hit the door again, stretching the limits of the deadbolt. Lilah winced and yelled out, “Stop trying to break down my door!”

She didn’t know what she thought yelling would do, but she wasn’t exactly surprised when the door broke open and Mr. Pickerelle rushed inside with two heavily armed men. One of them had an arm around Mr. Pickerelle and was guiding him to the far end of the room. The other pushed the door closed and leaned weight into it. Both carried rifles at their back and wore body armor, including a hefty looking helmet.

“Find me something to block it with, Doyle!” Screamed the guy at the door.

Doyle started looking around, his eyes falling on Lilah standing behind the couch. They stared at one another for a long second before Lilah’s brain caught up with her and she lifted the gun to aim.

“Stay right there,” she said. “I mean it.”

Doyle held up his hands, “I just want to move the couch.”

“I think I like the couch right where it is—really completes the Feng Shui of the room.”

“Go ahead and shoot her, Doyle,” Mr. Pickerelle said. “I don’t need any more of her sass.”

Lilah’s body lit up with a heavy rush of adrenaline. There might be a gun in her hand, but there was pretty powerful rifle staring right at her. She had to remind herself that Brasa was right outside. He’d make quick work of the others and come check on her.

“Doyle,” she said in a tone she hoped was assuring, “you don’t want to shoot me. It’ll be a lot worse for you if you do.” She could see that he was trying to process what she meant, so Lilah added, “You heard what happened to the other guys. That’s definitely going to happen to you. Best you can hope for is a quick kill.”

Mr. Pickerelle scoffed loudly. “Oh, don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to save herself.” He cocked his head at her. “Just like always, right Lilah?”

“Can somebody please bring me the fucking couch?” said the man leaning against the door.

From outside came another cry. It sounded painful. Lilah lifted her brows at Doyle meaningfully.

“Right,” Doyle said. He started towards Lilah with a determined stride. Lilah shook the gun at him and tried to look menacing. Doyle stopped mid-step and gestured to the strap across his chest. “I have a gun, too.”

“So?”

“Its a bigger gun.”

She glanced at the rifle on his back, “So?”

Doyle blinked. “I’m also wearing body armor.”

“So?”

He sighed and scratched his eyebrow. “So...You’re either gonna miss or hit the body armor. In either case, I’ll have time to draw and put a hollow point in your head. Just let me take the couch, alright?”

Lilah didn’t have time to respond to what was actually sounding like a reasonable request. The front door burst into pieces, flying into the room with such force that the far wall got a dusting of splinters. Walt, being heavier than a splinter, fell to the floor hard enough that his head bounced twice on the hardwood. Lilah stared at the destruction and decided that she was going to have to burn the house down when they got through this situation. There was no explaining to her parents how the kitchen, living room, and porch were torn apart. Lilah wasn’t that good of a liar.

Brasa walked in holding a severed head with the protective helmet still attached. He swung it lazily in time with his casual step. Lilah squinted at the face peeking out above the chin strap. It was contorted in a permanent grimace of pain. The effect was so gruesome that it took a minute for her to notice the bullet holes scattered over Brasa’s chest and upper thighs. They weren’t bleeding anymore, which was pretty good. But, there were a lot of them, which was pretty not good. Brasa stepped on top of Walt with his full weight. The crack of Walt’s ribs was the only other audible sound in the room, aside from the crackling fire.

Walt cried out and curled in on himself. When Brasa pushed off of him to step forward, he let out a sob. Brasa ignored him to address Lilah, “Are you alright?”

Lilah shrugged, “I’d be better if you weren’t dripping blood all over the hardwood.”

He looked down at the head, looked back at her, gave a little ‘okay’ motion, and threw the head back through the door. It landed somewhere in the yard, which Lilah thought was infinitely better than inside the cabin. He glanced at Lilah for approval and she nodded.

“Will someone shoot him, please?” Mr. Pickerelle ordered in exasperation.

Doyle, who looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, quickly tugged the rifle around and took aim. Lilah lifted her own weapon and pointed it at Mr. Pickerelle, “You fire, I fire.”

Mr. Pickerelle rolled his eyes, but held up his hand towards Doyle, “There’s three of us and two of you. Still bad odds, I would say.”

It was fucking amazing that he didn’t seem to understand the situation he’d found himself in, even with Brasa’s display. Lilah tipped her head to the side. “Did your guys at my parents’ house ever check in with you?”

His chin lifted. “You’ve got it the wrong way around. I’m supposed to be checking in with them. And, I’ve missed my window. Your parents are dead by now, Lilah.”

Lilah flicked her eyes to Brasa, who gave a subtle shake of his head. She adjusted her grip on the gun. “You’re wrong. You don’t know how wrong you are.”

Mr. Pickerelle shifted his weight and opened his mouth as if to speak. In the same motion, he raised a small barrel revolver and fired off two shots in quick succession. Lilah had never been shot before, although she had seen it happen to others. It felt like getting hit with the end of a baseball bat. Hard. The force sent her back into the island where her knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor.

She got to her hands and knees just as a roar shook the room. Lilah ignored it and performed a mental and physical check of her body. Lungs were working. Heart was working. Brain was on standby. Her hand rested against one of the two deep tears in her vest. Thank God for Kevlar.

A shadow fell over her. She looked up to find Brasa standing near the end of the couch. His expression was panicked and his breath was quick. Lilah gave him a weak thumbs up before a bullet ripped through his neck. Blood hit her square in the face, distorting her vision. She gave an involuntary scream and covered her head. Brasa disappeared from view, falling into the kitchen. Lilah scrambled to follow him, pulling back when another bullet whizzed past her.

Not knowing how else to get to Brasa, Lilah lifted the gun over the edge of the couch and emptied the magazine blindly. She jerked her arm back to safety and listened. After a moment, Doyle said, “You know, I thought you were joking, but she really is a terrible shot.”

Incensed, Lilah scooted around the island, saying, “I was shooting blind, you asshole.” She found Brasa bleeding all over the floor. His hand was holding the front of his neck and he looked pissed. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Flesh wound. Didn’t even hit my windpipe.”

“Oh?” she replied in a high, breathless voice, “It didn’t even hit your windpipe. That’s good.”

Brasa lifted a brow. “I’m fine.”

“You’re staining the floor.”

He looked down at the blood splattered all around him. It was mixing with the water from the fridge to form a pink pool. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

Lilah shook her head. “Its fine. We’re probably gonna have to burn down the house, anyway.”

Brasa looked around at the damaged cabinets and the pool of water coming from the fridge. “Don’t be so pessimistic. We can renovate.”

“You tell that to my parents.”

“I’ll be happy to.”

“Good fucking luck.”

“Excuse me,” came Doyle’s voice. “I hate to interrupt, but could you come out here so I can kill you?”

Brasa’s eyes closed in annoyance. “Just a moment.”

Lilah heard a sigh followed by. “I don’t have all night.” This came from Mr. Pickerelle.

“Did you have dinner plans?” Lilah quipped while she got her feet underneath her. She set aside the empty gun and pulled a fresh one from the holster at her side. To Brasa, she whispered, “What do we do?”

He flashed his teeth. “I should probably feed. Replenish what I’ve lost.”

“So, you go for Doyle, I’ll fire off a few at Mr. Pickerelle to cover you.” When Brasa’s mouth tilted up, she sneered, “I don’t have to hit him. Just keep him from hitting you.”

“Point,” Brasa replied. “On three?”

Lilah nodded and Brasa started counting. One. She turned off the safety. Two. She moved close to the island. Three. Lilah stood up quickly and found Mr. Pickerelle. He was standing near the fireplace, looking impatient. She took the gun in both hands and held it out in front of her. Brasa raced by at inhuman speeds, ruffling the air around her. She looked down the sight and fired off the first round just as Brasa got a hold on Doyle and yanked his head to the side at an unnatural angle.

Mr. Pickerelle ducked in time for the bullet to hit the fireplace behind him. It cracked the rock, sending chunks to the floor. Lilah ignored the gurgle coming from Doyle and took aim again, she squeezed the trigger just as Mr. Pickerelle threw himself behind an upholstered chair. Lilah sucked her teeth in dismay. That was her father’s reading chair. She couldn’t shoot at her father’s reading chair.

“Can you come out from there?”

“What do you think?”

“Fair enough.”

Brasa released Doyle’s neck with a growl and dropped him to the floor. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and turned golden eyes on Mr. Pickerelle. Lilah got to see in real time how fear changes a person’ expression. How the muscles of the cheeks relax as the jaw opens. How the eyes grow bright and watery. How sweat forms at the brow and around the mouth. Lilah watched all of this occur in real time and it was bewildering.

Mr. Pickerelle straightened from where he crouched behind the chair. He placed his hands on the back of it while he gathered his courage. Brasa let him take his time, not moving from where he stood. Lilah looked between them with her gun still on Mr. Pickerelle. She didn’t trust him not to try to pull something, especially with his life on the line.

“Well,” Mr. Pickerelle said eventually, “it seems that the odds are against me.”

“I’ll say,” Lilah drawled.

Mr. Pickerelle briefly traded the fear in his expression for anger. “I don’t need your commentary.”

“Too bad.”

He drew in a breath that was cut off by Brasa’s warning growl. Lilah smirked. She circled the island and moved to stand closer to Brasa. “Drop the gun.”

Mr. Pickerelle hesitated, but slowly crouched to lay the gun at his feet. Lilah started to ask him to put some space between him and the weapon, but she was distracted by the scuff of a body moving behind her. She turned to find Walt getting to his feet. His rifle was held loosely in one hand and there was blood running down his chin.

“Do you honestly think you have a chance?” Lilah asked sardonically. Walt stopped moving, but she saw him glance at his boss. “Let me ask another question. Is he paying you enough to risk what happened to Doyle?”

Walt looked down and visibly shivered. He sighed, wiped his mouth, gave a half-hearted salute, and walked out. Lilah smiled at his back and returned her attention to Mr. Pickerelle. He looked substantially more dejected than Walt had.

“Let’s talk.”

“No. No talking,” Lilah replied. “You got your phone on you?” When he nodded, she said, “Get it. Slowly, if you don’t mind.”

Mr. Pickerelle very, very slowly, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell. He held it up to her with his brows raised in question.

“I know you’ve got access to your bank accounts. You’re gonna transfer three million dollars. Then, and only then, will I consider letting you go.”

Mr. Pickerelle blinked. “Just three million?”

“You want me to ask for more?”

He unlocked his phone and tapped on the screen. “What account number?” She told him. More tapping, then he looked up and said, “Done.”

Lilah tugged her phone out of her back pocket and checked. “Thank you.” She put her phone back in her pocket, then pointed her gun at him. “Into the kitchen.”

Mr. Pickerelle’s eyes narrowed. “The kitchen?”

“Yeah, the flooring will be easier to replace. Hard to get blood out of hardwood.”

“You said—.”

“—I said I’d consider it. I’ve considered it. You’re gonna have to die.”

“Lilah, please.”

“No. No ‘please’ about it. But, I’ll offer you a choice. A bullet or his teeth,” she jerked her chin at Brasa.

Mr. Pickerelle looked back and forth between them and Lilah saw him make a decision. He walked steadily to the kitchen and turned around to face them. “You’re sure about this?”

Lilah nodded. “You threatened my family.”

“Don’t be a child. You’re a criminal. You work with criminals.” He nodded to Brasa. “And killers. There will always be another threat. At least I was willing to warn you first.”

“That’s why I gave you a choice. To show my gratitude.”

Mr. Pickerelle sighed. “Alright. Go on.”

It was one thing to talk about killing him and another to actually pull the trigger. Especially with him looking her square in the eye. She hated herself for hesitating, hated that her finger was shaking on the trigger. This was a man who had threatened her parents. He’d brought killers to her doorstep and literally broke it down in an attempt to take her out.

In the end, it wasn’t about the threats or the damage to the house or the holes in her vest. It wasn’t about the fact that she was going to have to lie her ass off to cover for the wreckage around her. It wasn’t even about the firing squad in the church. In the end, the thing that made her pull the trigger was the little smirk that passed over Mr. Pickerelle’s mouth as he recognized her struggle. She held his life in her hands and he was laughing about it.

He didn’t think she could do it—no, he knew she couldn’t do it. Mr. Pickerelle knew without a doubt that Lilah couldn’t kill him. And, it amused him. Lilah felt her fingers tighten around the handle in anger. In all his life, with all the things Lilah knew he had done, Mr. Pickerelle was still standing there thinking he was going to get out of it. That she was going to let him walk free. He was right. Almost.

Right up until that stupid little smirk ran across his lips, Lilah was going to let Mr. Pickerelle go. She would threaten him, sure, but she’d let him go. Maybe try to figure out how to protect her parents from a distance. It would be difficult, but she would figure it out. And then, he had to smile and ruin it.

Lilah fired. At this range, she actually hit her target. Mr. Pickerelle’s head snapped back and the cabinets behind him were painted in red. Her arms fell and she released a long, exhausted breath. Brasa walked forward and stood next to her. They stared down at the body for a while.

She sniffed and turned to him, “Its late. Mom expects at the house tomorrow morning and we really, really have to figure out something to explain all of this.”

Brasa smiled sympathetically, “We should sleep. I’ll take care of the bodies and join you in an hour or so.”

Lilah turned with him and started towards the stairs. She paused halfway across the room and gestured towards the place where the front door used to be. “I know this is ridiculous, but shouldn’t we put something in front of it?”

He looked around. “The couch?”

She also looked around. “That’s probably the best we’re going to get.”

Together they moved the couch and set it on its end in front of the door. Lilah stood back and took it in. “Thank God we don’t have neighbors for miles.”

“Someone will have heard the gun shots.”

Lilah shrugged. “They’ll think its hunters.”

“After dark?”

“Its been known to happen.”

Brasa considered it. “Alright. Go upstairs, lay down. I’ll see you shortly.”

Lilah did as he asked and went up to the bedroom. She pulled off the vest and set the last loaded gun on the nightstand. Then, she lay back on the bed and waited for the adrenaline to leave her body so that she could sleep. At some point, Brasa returned. She felt him lay beside her in the dark, the smell of him warm and welcome. Lilah let herself drop down into a calm she knew would dissipate in the morning when she had to face what was probably going to be her biggest challenge yet. Her parents.

#from dusk til dawn: the series #brasa #from dusk til dawn #au #maurice compte #the usurper #soulmates

2 notes · View notes

hitchell-mope · 11 months ago

Text

(The Fate Of The Fake Queen And Her Older Sister The Wicked Witch)

Snow: Henry. Please. Stop this. Stop this now. While you still can.

Henry: sorry grandma. No can do.

Regina: why are you doing this?

Zelena: isn’t it obvious? He’s a dark one. It’s in their nature

Henry: oh so close zelena. But no dice. See. THIS!

(He slams Zelena’s face into the floor)

Henry: is for my father. And THIS!

(He slams Regina’s face into the floor)

Henry: is for Graham.

Emma: what the hell is going on?

Henry (cheerfully): hello mother! Welcome to the execution!

Emma: can I get in on this?

Henry: by all means.

(Emma kicks Regina in the face and shatters Zelena’s jaw with one punch)

Emma: that felt good.

Regina: I am your mother!

Henry (drawing Excalibur and pressing it into Regina’s neck): no. No you’re not. You’re a dictatorial, tyrannical, despot. And after tonight. Everyone will have what they deserve.

Granny: what the hell is going on here?

Henry: sorry for the mess granny. I’ll clean it up be out of your hair. But you might want to see what I’m about to do.

(He teleports everyone out onto the street in a cloud of golden smoke. Once there he casts a protection spell on all the buildings)

Zelena: where’s my daughter?

Henry: you mean my baby sister.

Zelena: where’s my daughter! I demand to see her! You can’t keep her from me! I demand to see her! I demand to se-

(Henry pulls out Emma’s gun and shoots Zelena dead mid sentence, splattering Regina in her sisters blood and causing her to scream in terror until Henry backhands her across the face and starts beating her up with his bare hands)

Henry: SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.

Killian: Henry! It’s okay.

Henry: you’re right Killian. You’re right. Sorry everybody. I got carried away. It won’t happen again.

David: what’s going on?

Rumple: isn’t it obvious your majesty? He’s doing away with our enemies

Snow: Henry’s gone too far. We can’t save him.

Henry: oh grandma. I’m saving you.

(He takes out The Pen)

Henry: let’s see now. Oh yes. “The Great Usurper Regina Mills felt every bone in her legs and arms break into pieces within her”

(Regina screams in pain as her body is shattered into pieces)

Henry: “the anti magic cuffs appeared on her wrists and ankles)

(The anti magic cuffs appear on her wrists and ankles)

Henry: “in a shower of golden flame the bane of the royal family’s existence fades into the abandoned cell of Rumplestilskin. Fated to be alone, forgotten and to starve to death. Knowing that she failed to meet her accursed goals of revenge against The Rightful Queen. And that is where she stays. Until even her bones crumble to dust”.

(Regina is dragged off into a shower of golden flame, wailing pitifully like the injured bitch she is)

Rumple: well done Henry. I couldn’t have done it better myself.

Henry: of course you couldn’t have gramps. You weren’t The Author. Now let’s complete business shall we?

(Ornate crowns appear on Snow and David’s heads)

Henry (projecting his voice all over town): CITIZENS OF STORYBROOKE. TOUGH TIMES LAY AHEAD OF US. MAY I PRESENT TO YOU OUR TRUE LEADERS. MY GRANDPARENTS. KING DAVID AND QUEEN SNOW.

Emma (smiling widely): it’s about damn time.

(End of The Fate Of The Fake Queen And Her Older Sister The Wicked Witch)

#once upon a time #henry mills #mary margaret blanchard #david nolan #snowing ouat #emma swan #killian jones #captain swan #mr gold #granny lucas #anti regina mills #anti zelena mills #bi!dark!henry

5 notes · View notes

legitalicat · 11 months ago

Text

Power is Power - chapter 3

AN: I love Aegon Targaryen I cannot help it.

Masterlist here!

Songs for the Chapter

Like Real People Do by Hozier

Tattoo by Loreen

Summary: The Velaryon Club.

CW: Language, flashback to political marriage, romantic longing, canon typical Targcest, discussions of usurpation, implied wine drinking

Pairings: Aegon Targaryen ii x Alisanne Velaryon, past Alisanne Velaryon x Jacaerys Velaryon

Word count: 2.1k

Previous chapter

Alisanne looked between her brothers. Jacaerys and Joffrey looked just as eager for the answer as Lucerys. She could only smirk as she sipped on her water. She watched the berries she liked to use to flavor her water float about the top when she returned to merely holding it in her lap.

“So how did you do it?” Lucerys asked her.

They had changed, she felt, since she saw them last. Their hair longer, curlier. Their jaw lines sharper, seemingly having lost any remnants of baby fat. Lucerys seemed as riled up as ever, but Jacaerys was more reserved. Joffrey changed, she thought, depending on which brother he was with and who was encouraging.

“Alicent had told me grandsire was asking for me, she had just left him. By the time I arrived, he was dead,” Alisanne told her twin. “Aegon and I had made the agreement, a long time ago, that he would need to hide for as long as he could in order to hold them off. We knew Otto planned something, but his plan includes keeping Aegon in the dark. So when Aegon hid, I went to Rhaenys and told her to give a note to Mother.”

“A note I presume you had pre-written?” Luke smirked at her.

“Oh of course,” she responded, smirking at him. “I presume you lot know the rest. Rhaenys made her escape, mother found out. We proceeded along how Otto wished us to, until we received word you all were on your way.”

Jacaerys stared at her. At one time, she had been certain that she would have been his wife. His queen. She had grown with the idea that her mother would not allow her marriage to Aegon and that she would be with Jace.

He felt it too. She could tell by the way he looked at her. Whatever could have been, or may have once been, plagued them both. Part of Alisanne’s heart, she feared, would always belong to him.

Though, nothing could convince her it did not turn out better this way. The way Aegon loved her, it was something people only dreamt of. And the way she loved him? She had not been exaggerating when she spoke of burning down Westeros for him.

“And you love him?” Jacaerys asked her. There was a deeply hidden sorrow woven into his words. She had not wanted it to be so, though she did not think she could stop it.

“Yes,” she said quietly to him.

Any expansion upon her word would take away from the weight. She could tell him how Aegon treated her as though she were the only thing that mattered in the world. How she fell in love with him the moment she caught him awake before her, singing with the birds when he thought nobody would hear him.

With Aegon, it did not matter the truth they both knew. Harwin Strong being her father instead of Laenor Velaryon was what he referred to as an inconsequential matter. She was who she was, his wife that he loved as though it were breathing. In her, he found beauty and love in ways he had never known. ( 1 )

“And he is good to you?” he asked her quietly.

“He is. A better man than I thought possible,” she whispered, reaching across and taking his hand in hers.

Alisanne and Jace shared this moment. Their gazes connected, their hands touching. Her heart reached out to his. She needed him to understand it was true and genuine. It was no trick, not some manipulation, but a love that was pure and honest.

“Then perhaps we should start inviting him to the weekly Velaryon Club meeting,” Joffrey said with a deep laugh.

“We should,” Jacaerys said, giving his sister a small smile and a nod. “As long as you are okay with him knowing how crazy you are.”

“I am far from crazy,” she said quickly, laughing quietly.

“You dove into the water from Vermithor’s back,” Luke pointed out.

“You jumped from Arrax,” she told him, laughing as she turned and shoved him lightly.

“And we all fucking agreed Mother can never know,” Joffrey said as he finished his drink. The others all took a drink from their own cups.

“Bold of you to assume I did not see you all from my room,” Rhaenyra’s voice said from the door way.

Alisanne choked on her water before she stood up and turned to look to her mother. She was far more relaxed now. The crown did not sit upon her head. The tension she held was gone.

“It was Alisanne’s idea,” Joffrey and Jacaerys said together far too quickly.

“Okay what the literal fuck, fuck you guys,” Alisanne said as she looked at them. Then she turned back to look at her mother. “But for the record, Jace dared me and Rhaena said she thought it was a bad idea and Baela said I couldn’t let boys win so really it wasn’t my fault.”

Rhaenyra could not help but laugh. To see her four eldest children, together again, was her greatest joy. They had been closer than any siblings she had ever known. They would live and die for one another.

She stepped closer to Alisanne and took her hands in her own. There was something so special for Alisanne to be back with her mother. There had been so many moments she had wanted to walk down the halls to her room, to be held like she had when she was a child.

“I am so proud of you,” Rhaenyra said quietly.

“I did what was needed. Nothing more,” Alisanne said. Her voice wavered a bit, tears coming to verge on being released from her eyes.

“No. You turned what we were all sure was a dangerous position into a life of happiness and love. That is a feat few can say they’ve accomplished,” Rhaenyra told her. “Speaking of which, I have been asked to tell you Aegon awaits for you in the courtyard.”

Alisanne grinned from ear to ear without realizing it. A little chuckle left her like a simple exhale of breath. “Ah, yes. I shall see you all at supper, then?”

“Must you go? Now?” Luke asked her. “Surely he can wait.”

Alisanne looked to him. She didn’t quite know how to tell him that she couldn’t. Aegon would be perfectly fine if she sent word that she would meet him later. But she needed to go to him, to see him, to feel him.

“With any luck, you will one day understand why I have to,” she told her twin before leaving the room.

Her steps to the courtyard were rushed. Much more than her path earlier in the day. She could not help the way her feet carried her as though she were late.

When she passed through the doors and came to the courtyard, Aegon and Sunfyre were waiting with Vermithor. Sunfyre the Golden and The Bronze Fury, together, had always been a sight to see. Especially when Sunfyre would sing and chirp and Vermithor would seem almost calmed by him.

Aegon rested his forehead against Sunfyre’s side, waiting for Alisanne. She stood at the foot of the stairs and just looked at him for a moment. To think she had once been concerned with never loving him seemed so ridiculous to her now. She had rarely seen such beauty.

She was fire and blood, salt and sea. Harsh and unforgiving at times, devastation following closely if she wanted. But he was the birds in the trees or the whitest clouds in the sky for her. Her heart yearned for him like he kept it beating. ( 2 )

Their wedding night, she was terrified. That was the first night she had not been with her mother or any of her brothers. She had expected a bedding ceremony, something that Alicent was pushing for. She had expected the rumors of Aegon’s disinterest of a woman’s desires to be true. Though nothing that happened that night was expected.

Alisanne followed Aegon in near silence. The halls of the Red Keep had never been so lifeless. They did not pass a single person all the way from the Great Hall to Maegor’s Holdfast, the only sound coming from their own feet and the guards that walked behind them.

They came to his rooms. Their rooms. She would need to get used to that, she supposed. There was no telling how long she would be here until her mother could find a way to free her. Then she would be able to return to Dragonstone.

“I shall take the settee for the night,” Aegon told her quietly. “I was not able to get all your things up here yet, but I remember you being quite fond of blankets as a child, so I asked for a few extra to be brought for you.”

Alisanne turned to him, brows furrowing in confusion. “You do not mean to join me in the bed?”

“I did not think you would want me. You do not seem pleased with this. While I cannot give you forever without ever having to bed me, I can give you some time to adjust,” he told her quietly.

Something about the way he said it hurt something inside her. He was already so certain she did not, could not, want him. And while it may be true she had not wanted the marriage, she did not like the thought of him doubting himself in such a way.

“You are my husband,” she told him.

“Not the one you wanted,” Aegon said. “You think I do not know you love Jacaerys?”

“It does not change that you are my husband. And I do not think love is this thing that happens to us, but a decision we must make every day,” Alisanne said to him. Shyly, she took his hands in her own. “We could either live our lives miserable or we can make the choice to love each other. And a man who brings the thought of comfort in one of my favorite things is a man I think wants to choose to love.”

Alisanne made the choice that day, that moment, to choose Aegon every time. She did not at the time know how deeply she would come to love him. He had made himself a permanent fixture in her heart without even meaning to.

Vermithor made a rumbling noise when he finally saw her. It was one of a happines at seeing his rider. Some people did not notice the difference in the sounds he made. Sunfyre was much more obvious, singing to Aegon both in greeting and as a way to make him smile, grumbling when hungry, screeching if he was fearful. Vermithor though tended to either roar or grumble for everything.

But Aegon knew. It’s why he pulled back from Sunfyre and looked to find her. And then he saw Alisanne, who had a small smile on her face. A smile in which he could only replicate.

“Vaoreznuni naejot gaomagon ao waiting, ñuha jorrāeliaryz,” she told him as she walked over to him. (“Sorry to keep you waiting, my love.”)

He chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Daor jorrāelagon naejot sagon vaoreznuni. Iksā kesīr sir se konir sagon mirre nyke could jorrāelagon,” he said softly to her. (“No need to be sorry. You are here now and that is all I could need.”)

“You have been invited to the Club Velaryon meetings,” she told him, grinning up at him.

“Oh I have now?” he asked her, chuckling.

“Yes. You should feel honored. We are a very exclusive club,” she told him.

Before he had the chance to say another word, Alisanne kissed him. She could not tell what exactly she wanted to show him. Part of her wanted to prove to him how much she loved him. Her lips moved against his own with a soft devotion. She was his in every sense.

And when Aegon’s fingers dug into the flesh of her body through her dress, pulling her to be flush against him, more awake in her. Then, she wanted to show him how she desired him. How desperately she felt that need in her bones. If given the chance, she doubted she would ever leave his side.

When he finally pulled away, he smiled lazily at her. “Come now, love, let us fly,” he told her softly.

Alisanne nodded quietly, giving him another quick kiss, before mounting Vermithor. When they took off into the sky, all she could think of was how perfect this all felt.

><><><><><><><><><><><><

Taglist: @zaldritzosrose @thenameswinter99 @mysticalendings @sihtricsafin @abecerra611 @tomgcsmrs

@itchaboi-itchyboy @asteria33

If you want to be added/removed to the taglist let me know!

#power is power #house of the dragon #house of the dragon oc #aegon targaryen ii x oc #aegon targaryen ii x alisanne velaryon #alisanne velaryon #alisanne the graceful #aegon targaryen ii

4 notes · View notes

repetiita · 11 months ago

Text

While they weren't friends nor colleagues, there was a distinct comraderie amongst those considered 'cards'. They weren't entirely human. Nor were they bore of Pride; but they were chosen. Noah, the bleeding heart and child of a glutton stood, his arm occupied by a smitten child, Nunzia. Smoking near a window in comfortable silence sat the dancer, Camilla, the doctor, Kaede and the police officer, Samuel.

A mood killer; that is what king Nado was. A nameless husk, shambling in with a faux crown upon its head.

No more quiet chatter, no more boisterous laughter. Just complete silence each time it appeared. No matter what body it latched onto, no matter how polite a smile it wore, the rag-tag team of 'humans' looked at it as it was. A usurper.

"I'm getting the distinct feeling that I am not liked by you all."

"This in itself is fine, however, I wish you all remember that I am your leader. Ignoring my orders is not an option."

Within the blanketed silence, a single hand raised. Like an owl, King's head turned, wide eyes landing on the only human with the gall to openly oppose it's whims. Perhaps it noticed the colour in Nunzia's face drain when it decided to turn its body to match its heads position. Or how Noah tensed as it moved. Operating a human was a challenge.

"Respect is earned." As always, Queen spoke without permission... Nevermind her tenure in this little group; Pride seemed to hold a soft spot for her. Rendering her untouchable. Pompous. "And to be frank, despite joining us recently, you assumed a RECENTLY VACANT position. One held by someone we all cherished. If you allowed us the chance to grieve before waving authority, your transition would be smoother, Second."

There it was. Vitriol and spite dripped from her tongue whenever she called it that. Taking on the label of King did nothing but twist the knife.

Imitating it's environment, it asked a simple question; speaking her true name. ". . . Did you love the First, Camilla?"

"We all did." Noah spoke through grit teeth, though fear held him still, he stood with Camilla. Respectable, while Nunzia hid behind him, her hands trembling. It could practically hear the chattering of the siren's teeth.

Once more, an uncomfortable silence took the room. Even Samuel, whose lungs could barely take the dust, lacked the gall to cough and clear tarred airway.

All is silent until the door slams open by the grace of Peter's foot. The life of the party had broken the only door still on its hinges, his wide grin fell, smelling ROT before seeing it standing before the others. Its body turned to the two, for behind Peter stood their lucky charm, Marissa, unshakable in her faith.

"Fuck, we already bullyin' the new guy?"

"Correcting, Jack..."

"I see it as bullying, Camilla."

CLAP ! Loud and oddly piercing, Marissa clapped. Once, twice-- a total of four claps. Like a teacher commanding the attention of a room. "That's enough!" Her small body bounced as she practically skipped between the two faux monarchs. "No fighting!"

"And King, you know not to use our real names when we meet. One more infraction and--"

"Understood. I've attended this meeting and shall be leaving early, is that alright with you, Clover?" Without waiting for Marissa to stammer an 'okay', the King made itself scarce, shambling out of the dilapidated bar without a second look.

Perhaps next time, it will try a different approach.

". . . Good riddance."

As if time resumed, noise seeped into the atmosphere. Starting with a single cough.

#queen ⋮ camilla leao de silva ⌜ drabble. ⌟#king ⋮ nado ⌜ drabble. ⌟#heart ⋮ noah zakazaka ⌜ drabble. ⌟#jack ⋮ peter baker ⌜ drabble. ⌟#ace ⋮ kaede himuro ⌜ drabble. ⌟#spade ⋮ samuel wang ⌜ drabble. ⌟#diamond ⋮ nunzia moretti ⌜ drabble. ⌟#clover ⋮ marissa patel ⌜ drabble. ⌟#all the homies hate King 2 electric boogaloo

2 notes · View notes

mrtsar · 2 years ago

Text

"The Young King"

A young, second born prince was left alone at the castle.

The king, queen and heir departed for a ball miles away.

Twas the first time the teenager had been alone.

He would never become ruler, but that was okay.

Contentment was his domain.

A messenger came to the young one.

“Your parents and brother have perished, sire.”

“Many of your new lords will now seek the throne from you.”

“What shall you do?”

But the new King did not respond in royal language.

He curled into a ball along the wall.

He now owned the largest castle in the land

Owned more money than he would ever dream of

Could choose to do whatever he wanted

But he never wanted any of it.

Do royals care for their parents?

Is their duty as heirs above that of children to their parents?

Would one question an orphan lamenting their independence?

“Help me. Help me.” But the servants expected a king, and would not.

And the king was still alone.

Why must I suffer so?

I wish to give according to my loves and values

But what am I even to do?

Do I not get to mourn?

Why do their slaves get more respite than their own son?

And I am alone in here. I don’t know what to do.

I just want everyone I care about with me.

But the ones who could help me are gone.

And the ones left can only see “king” and not “me.”

I wish death on all family usurpers.

Who would ever wish this fate upon themselves!?

Who would lie down and grin as the pendulum of Damocles descends?

Do you find it poetic or ironic that the blade you wanted will fall on your face?!

I am not ready. I was never raised to be ready.

But is raising independence in a child simply called neglect?

#poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #dark poem #writer #writers on tumblr #fiction #poetry #short fiction #my poem

3 notes · View notes

horizon-verizon · 1 year ago

Text

just one more thing (or three in one) and for posterity. It all comes down to HotD leeching the moral value of the Dance and undermining the entire point about it being about patriarchy, not just small folks. This is the real reduction.

Are you saying that the effect on women doesn't matter?

Rhaenyra's ruling sets a stronger precedent for female rule/leadership also moving us a little away from all sorts of abuses toward women and girls since they'd be a little more "entrusted" to become leaders and shape their society. It's about the very conception of women (not just noble women but the entire gender) being entrusted to lead like men, or that their bodies should be respected. I remind you that it is custom and socially righteous in Westeros (except Dorne) for a man to beat his wife esp if he suspects her of infidelity. Megelle, Aegon IV's mistress, was killed by her blacksmith husband after Viserys II sent her back. This is what Queen Rhaenys wanted to stymie through the rule of thumb and rule of six--not just to protect nobles but peasant women.

There are ideological stakes here, as well. since you don't seem to know, both Targ and nonTarg women have lost power/been more abused/sidelined/etc. since the Dance until we have Naerys and Rhaella. Jeyne Arryn's last will for one person to rule after she was disrupted when this could have been avoided if Rhaenyra ruled.

A) I wasn't blaming you for your grammar, I didn't care about that part. Not all of us have a great command of the English language. I make so many grammar and spelling mistakes here and on Twitter, and I am a native speaker.

My things were:

So you say "I'm not passionate"; "I don't have the knowledge"; "I don't remember what the blacks did"...but you continue to try to say that the blacks definitely did more stuff...okay? Yes, we all have moments where we forget or don't have a good grasp on details in stories, anecdotes, etc. The issue here is that you claimed to have information in opposition to the idea presented, but you really didn't and you tried to make it as if you did.

I really did want to see what you mean by "they are the same" and what else you thought the blacks did that should be on this list, as you said when you said: "The blacks definitely committed more than just 4 war crimes".

B) Even if you were not defending the greens (a separate thing), I am not talking about someone explicitly defending the greens but someone insisting that there were more crimes done that belonged on this list. I was pointing out how you thought the blacks did more crimes or war crimes. But you refused to bring up examples and:

I am not gonna sit down and list all of the stuff out cause frankly, I don't have time for it and neither am I that passionate about the entire greens vs blacks who comitted more crimes thingy

I'm not as well aware as you are with the books even though I've read them too

I don't wanna argue based on what I "remember" cause I'll probably be wrong since it's has been awhile

This is also all self-contradiction. "I am not gonna sit down and list all of the stuff" implies you do have the info. In the next two sentences make it as if you don't. Which is it?

would you be choosing sides when the entire country and innocent people are affected because some people are fighting for power?

Tbh, yes, if I thought I'd sin or benefit more from one side over the other, or that society as a whole would. Which is why, if I didn't know what the end was--like any other smallfolk/noble in the actual story-- I'd go for Rhaenyra bc as a woman I want there to at least be a precedent for female rule and leadership. It doesn't make me like Rhaenyra personally--again, if I were a hypothetical smallfolk--I just see what caused the war, the reasons for why they went to war, and decided Rhaenyra's side should have won...but better yet she never should have been usurped.

Because her usurpation (due to the Greens taking advantage of her gender and patriarchy) was the cause of the war. Unlike the usual territory disputes between men. In those territory disputes, I would want them to just stop fighting because there was no moral stake there if one side won or not. For the Dance, there was.

#fandom discussion #hotd fandom #the targaryens #hotd #westerosi women #women in westeros

181 notes · View notes

howyouloveyourdragon · 2 years ago

Note

alicent has a younger omega sister who is politically savvy but ignored by otto. when it is announced that alicent is marrying the king the hightower omega reader and alpha rhaenyra team up (get married) and become a power couple to get back at otto. if you want them to reconcile with alicent that may be something good to have happen but not likely to happen with otto as there's a lot of differences/anger between them. Headcanons though you can use it if you want to turn it into a longer thing.

pronouns: she/her warnings: inferences of misogyny

A/n: your honour i love hightower reader, i got carried away but i hope you still like! this idea is going straight into my pocket

okay so i'm going to use the assumption that Otto had the idea to place Alicent as Queen for a long time so he focussed most of his attention on influence Viserys and Alicent

so he doesn't have plans for you just assumes that once Alicent is married, he will have a plentiful of powerful lords offering tributes for your hand

he doesn't suspect that everything can flip so quickly

I think Viserys would take interest in you for your intellect if he noticed some of the quips you made or the books you read

so he may offer you become a cupbearer to sooth your curiosity

I imagine that Otto wouldn't be entirely happy about this because of your nature but it is another step to gaining the King's favour so he lets it slide

then you almost drop the large jug of wine on Lord Beesbury's lap when the announcement is made but you don't say anything until you're both back at your private quarters, you decide to deal with Alicent later, she's a mere pawn in your father's game but she is not completely innocent

"I don't understand." You roar at your father. "Alicent has been gallivanting with the heir to the Iron Throne since they were children and now you have her betray the princess? Are you a fool, father?" Otto's gaze narrowed as he stared past his child's exterior. "She may not always be the heir." He snapped, his implication clear. Y/n stepped back and scoffed, folding her arms. "You cannot be serious."

"When your sister bears a son, the King will reconsider her position."

that changes everything because you always suspected your father of wanting to claim the Iron throne but this was direct treason

you call him an idiot and storm out basically

and you smack into an equally furious Rhaenyra who is seething

you both share a heated stare but there is no malice

her eyes flicker over you in recognition

"You're Alicent's sister." She states to which you nod warily. "A Hightower."

That's when you clench your jaw and she definitely notices, now with a mischievous glint in her eyes instead of her anger and a burning idea "Well spotted, your grace"

if it were her father you were speaking to, you may have bowed but you knew Rhaenyra, you had seen her fume at the thought of biting her tongue, you doubted she would appreciate you holding yours.

"It seems I am in need of a new lady-in-waiting." You cock your head but don't give her the satisfaction of asking, if she wants something you want her to work for it and especially now that you know of your father's plans to usurp the throne

It's Rhaenyra's turn to clench her jaw

"Would you be interested?" Were you interested in becoming the future Queen's lady-in-waiting? Yes of course you were but Alicent was still your sister and you didn't want to just replace her because of the princess' judgment

then again, wouldn't it be fair to betray her like she had betrayed Rhaenyra? "I would be honoured, princess." You agreed, attracting a smirk to her lips

Her lips curl and her eyes narrow playfully as she links your arms

so the next three years you spend under your princess' arm and discussing the future of King's Landing

but there's no giggling in the godswood or studying Nymeria–you're not Alicent and you need her to know that

in its place you instate deep speeches in the library and chasing one another through the castle

since then, Rhaenyra has presented as an alpha and her presence as heir has practically been reaffirmed for it

she's still the same mischievous teenager that she was when she was younger but with you by her side, guiding her through political and social events, she's much more secure in herself

the idea of you seems to linger in her mind now that her liberties have been broadened, the restrictions from when she was younger no longer apply

her father still wants her to get married but he's a lot more relaxed around it considering her position and large prospects

your own relationship with your father hasn't improved, you're both increasingly wary of each other with snide remarks while dining but even those times are few as the princess demands your presence at her own table where she bears no shame flirting with you while Alicent grips her cup too tight to be coincidental

after one dinner in particular two scenarios happen, one between you and your sister and one between Rhaenyra and her father

"What are you doing?" She asks, hurt clear in the shake of her tone

"What?"

"You chastise me for heeding father's ambition and yet you do the same as I. You're a hypocrite" That boils your blood but you stay as calm as possible

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Yes you do!" She snaps "You're taking her from me!"

"She was never yours!"

"But she could have been" Alicent's voice comes out choked and you finally see the tears in her eyes "if I'd known she was a...I, I would have–" She doesn't need to finish her sentence as you wrap your arms around her and hush her cries

it was times like these that you forget she was the elder

your hand strokes through her hair as she murmurs her pains and regrets

meanwhile, Rhaenyra is working on keeping her shoulders level as she stands straight and composed opposite her father

"I have something to ask of you" She tells him and he's surprised at the authority of her voice "Then speak it" "I wish to claim a bride" His eyebrows shoot up, fairly certain that she would have suggested an allegiance with House Velaryon. He nods in encouragement and smiles "Of whom?" "Y/n Hightower" He nods and grasps her hands in his "Of course, my dear child" Though there is the slightest hesitation and suspicion in him, this is the second Hightower child to be brought into the Targaryen dynasty and Otto's influence feel overbearing these days

However he could never deny his darling daughter Rhaenyra of course

a lot happens that night but she doesn't tell you of the news right away, she waits a few moons to make sure it is something you would be interested in, she was rejected by Alicent she could just as easily be rejected by you too

but she had to try

so once the sun has fully set on the fourth night since and the moon shines down on you like a promise, you brush through the courtyard trying to understand the scalding heat in your loins while whimpers drip from your mouth

you lay upon the cold stone of a bench and take deep breaths until you're found

by Rhaenyra

and with a bright beam of her smile she is telling you the good news as you present yourself to her like an unfolding flower

with a new glow and spring in your step, you're attached to the hip

she likes that you can be affectionate in public with her, that was one of the reasons her relationship with Alicent deteriorated, she always felt like she was about to get caught

you can tell your father feels torn at the news, this one step closer to a Hightower on the throne but that Hightower has stated her dislike of the idea

as you enter the throne room to arrange the betrothal, Otto's eyes are as trained on you as yours are on his and the tension isn't hidden, a standoff waiting to happen

When it comes to the wedding and you begrudgingly take his arm down the aisle, his mouth is close to your ear

"I hope you understand now, I am only here to protect you." Your eyes turn to him, emotions indistinguishable "I'm sure" Your voice is dry and lacks depth, erupted an irritated sigh to escape your father's chest "Must you always be so difficult?" "Must you always be so delluded" He doesn't have a chance to respond as it comes time

He turns to remove your cloak only to remember that it's not there and steps to the side

Viserys was happy enough to perform a Valyrian ceremony for his daughter and at the word 'unbreakable' you knew it was the way to go

all uncertainties are lost as intimate family witness the union

you avoid Alicent's eyes and when you finally meet them you don't find the distaste you expected

as Rhaenyra and you lock your stinging hands together, there's a transfer of something deeper within you

493 notes · View notes