#ladies pavilion wedding

[weddingcentralpark]

Rachael and Glen's Elopement Wedding in the Ladies’ Pavilion in November

Rachael and Glen got married in the Ladies’ Pavilion in early November.  They are both from Australia.  They met in 2020 when Rachael was working as a nurse and Glen was working as a doctor in the Coronary Care Unit of the Princess Alexandra Hospital in Brisbane, Australia. Their wedding date was the fourth anniversary of them being a couple, Rachael was 35 years old and Glen 36 when they got…

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

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emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

[novaursa]

okk hear me out!

gwayne x daemon daughter // kink repro

We all remember the tournament in s1, just imagine viserys decide that his niece (who is younger than nyra maybe 16) should marry sir gwayne to make more strength between their houses.

time pass they fell in love in oldtown and they raided Daeron as their own. They all come back when Luke was name heir of drifmark (during the audience). Daemon is furious to see her with gwayne.

But their chamber is right next to daemon and nyra, and at night gwayne is way more than ready to make understand that she is his 😏🔥

In Defiance of the Dragon

- Summary: When your uncle, King Viserys, promised your hand to Gwayne, your father was least pleased about it.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The air in the tournament grounds is drenched with the scent of crushed flowers and churned earth, the banners of noble houses fluttering like the wings of restless dragons. The sun casts a golden shine over the scene, making the polished armor of the knights gleam like fire. You stand at the edge of the royal pavilion, a place of honor, though it feels more like a cage at this moment. Your heart pounds in your chest as the king—your uncle, Viserys—raises his hand to command silence.

The crowd hushes, anticipation hanging in the air. You can feel the weight of a thousand eyes upon you, but none as heavy as the gaze of Ser Gwayne Hightower. His presence is unmistakable even among the throng of knights, his armor adorned with the sigil of his house, the beacon of the Hightower shining bright against the steel. Your breath catches as you meet his gaze, a fleeting moment that seems to stretch into eternity. There is something in his eyes—an unspoken promise, a plea for understanding.

Viserys’ voice booms across the grounds, his words carrying the weight of royal decree. "Today, before the tilts commence, let it be known that my beloved niece, the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, shall be wed to Ser Gwayne Hightower. This union shall strengthen the bond between our noble houses, binding the blood of Old Valyria to the steadfast walls of Oldtown."

A murmur ripples through the crowd. Otto Hightower, standing beside the king, allows himself a thin, satisfied smile. The whisper of steel, the low hum of murmurs, and the occasional startled cry from the gathered lords and ladies mingle with the pounding in your ears. Beside you, Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent Hightower exchange a glance, though their expressions reveal little. You know Rhaenyra's thoughts well enough; her small hand squeezes yours briefly, a silent assurance.

Your eyes dart to the stands where your father, Prince Daemon, lounges. His posture is deceptively relaxed, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the arm of his seat. His eyes—those unmistakable violet eyes—burn with an intensity that sets your nerves on edge. When he rises from his seat, you feel a tremor of fear run through you, though you fight to keep your face composed.

Daemon’s voice, sharp and cutting, pierces the air. "I would face Ser Gwayne in the first tilt. Let us see if this union has the favor of the gods."

The crowd roars in approval, eager for the bloodshed and spectacle that is sure to follow. Gwayne’s gaze shifts, now locked onto Daemon’s. You see the flicker of concern in his eyes, quickly masked by the steel of resolve. He inclines his head, accepting the challenge with a courtly grace that belies the danger he now faces.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The fear gnaws at you, a beast with claws that rake against your insides. You force yourself to remain still, even as every instinct screams at you to intervene, to do something—anything—to protect Gwayne from your father’s wrath.

Alicent notices your distress, her voice a gentle whisper in your ear. "Do not fear, my lady. Ser Gwayne is a skilled knight. He will honor you in this contest."

Her words are meant to comfort, but they do little to soothe the storm raging within you. Your eyes dart between the two men who now occupy your every thought—the father who has always shielded you with his fierce love, and the knight who has stolen your heart with his quiet strength. What would your father say if he knew how often Gwayne had filled your thoughts, how often you had dreamed of a future together, away from the politics and dangers of the court?

As the knights prepare for the tilt, you can barely breathe. The cheers of the crowd fade into a dull roar in your ears, and all you can focus on is the two figures facing each other across the field. Daemon’s black armor, dark as night and adorned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, stands in stark contrast to Gwayne’s silvered plate. The dragon against the tower—a battle that feels all too symbolic.

Rhaenyra leans in close, her voice urgent and low. "You know your father, sister. He won’t hold back. You must steel yourself."

"I know," you whisper, though your voice trembles with the effort of holding back the fear that threatens to overwhelm you. You cannot let anyone see how deeply this affects you—not Rhaenyra, not Alicent, and certainly not your father.

The trumpets blare, signaling the beginning of the tilt. The horses rear, their hooves pounding the earth as Daemon and Gwayne charge at each other. Time slows to a crawl, and you can only watch, helpless, as the gap between them closes.

The impact is thunderous, the sound of steel against steel ringing out across the field. The force of the blow unseats Gwayne, and he crashes to the ground in a heap of armor and dust. Your heart lurches in your chest, and you rise to your feet, barely aware of the gasps and cries around you.

"Gwayne!" you hear yourself cry out, the name escaping your lips before you can stop it.

The crowd is on its feet, roaring with excitement, but all you can see is Gwayne, motionless on the ground. The world blurs as tears well in your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to show any weakness.

Daemon circles back, his expression inscrutable behind his helm, but you can feel his eyes on you. This was no accident; he wanted to make a point, to remind everyone that no one—Hightower or otherwise—would take what belonged to a dragon without consequence.

But then, Gwayne stirs. He rises slowly, his movements pained but determined. Relief floods through you, but it is quickly replaced by a renewed sense of dread. Daemon is not done—not yet.

Before you can react, Gwayne is back on his feet, his eyes locked onto Daemon's. The defiance in his stance is clear—he will not yield, not even to a prince of the blood. You feel a swell of pride for him, despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

Daemon, sensing the mood of the crowd shifting, raises his lance once more, ready for another pass. But this time, something in Gwayne’s demeanor gives you hope. His gaze flickers to you for the briefest of moments, and you see the silent vow in his eyes—a promise to fight for you, no matter the odds.

The horses charge again, and this time, Gwayne meets Daemon’s strike with a fierce determination. The impact is brutal, but Gwayne holds his ground, refusing to be unseated. The crowd roars its approval, the tension in the air is felt.

When the dust settles, both knights remain in their saddles, battered but unbroken. It is Daemon who finally raises his hand, signaling the end of the tilt. There is no victor, no vanquished—only two men who have tested each other’s mettle and found themselves equally matched.

The relief that washes over you is overwhelming, and you sink back into your seat, your hands trembling in your lap. You dare a glance at Gwayne, who inclines his head to you with a slight, weary smile. It is a small gesture, but it fills your heart with warmth.

As Daemon dismounts, he casts a long, lingering look in your direction. There is something unspoken in his gaze, a challenge, perhaps—or a warning. But for now, you do not care. You have seen Gwayne survive your father’s wrath, and that is enough for you.

For the first time since this day began, you allow yourself a small, secret smile. The road ahead may be fraught with danger and intrigue, but you will face it with the courage of a dragon—and with Gwayne by your side.

You stand at the window of the Hightower, looking out over the sprawling city of Oldtown, where the cobbled streets wind like serpents beneath the autumn sun. The air is cool, tinged with the salt of the Whispering Sound, carrying with it the scent of the sea that you’ve come to know so well. The bells from the Starry Sept toll the hour, their sound reverberating through the stone walls of your home.

Your home. It’s a thought that still brings a small smile to your lips, even after all these years. The Hightower is vast, imposing, and ancient, its walls steeped in the history of Oldtown and the Hightowers themselves. Yet within these walls, you have found something unexpected—peace, and more than that, love.

Gwayne is beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back, a comforting weight. His touch is gentle, yet there’s a strength in it that you’ve come to depend on. He’s watching you with that soft expression that always melts the last of your worries away, the lines of his face relaxed, his grey eyes bright with the warmth of the afternoon light.

“He’s arrived,” Gwayne says, his voice low and calm, a grounding presence. You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, the unspoken question in your eyes.

“Prince Daeron,” he clarifies, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Alicent’s letter arrived this morning, and they’ll be here within the hour.”

You nod, the familiar flutter of anticipation and duty stirring in your chest. Prince Daeron, the youngest son of Queen Alicent, sent to Oldtown to be raised and educated under the care of your husband’s family. It’s a great honor, of course, but more than that, it feels like a trust, a bond that ties your houses closer together.

Gwayne’s hand moves from your back to your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “He’s young, but from what we’ve heard, he’s bright and eager to learn. He’ll thrive here, I’m sure of it.”

You smile at his optimism, leaning into him slightly. “We’ll make sure of it,” you reply, your voice carrying the quiet determination that has grown within you over the years. Oldtown has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you and Gwayne have built a life together, despite the stormy beginnings of your union.

You can still remember the day of the tourney, the way your heart had pounded with fear as your father had chosen Gwayne as his opponent. The memory lingers like a shadow, but it’s one you’ve learned to live with, just as you’ve learned to live with the man who became your husband.

Gwayne, sensing the shift in your mood, squeezes your hand gently. “He’ll have the best tutors, the finest training. And he’ll have us.”

“Yes,” you agree, turning your gaze back to the city below. “He’ll have us.”

The grand hall of the Hightower is filled with the warmth of a roaring fire, the stone hearth dominating the room. The thick tapestries that line the walls soften the sound of footsteps on the stone floor, and the smell of spiced wine and roasted meat fills the air.

Daeron is smaller than you expected, a boy of perhaps seven years, with a mop of silver hair that falls into his eyes. Those eyes, so much like his mother’s, are wide with curiosity and just a hint of nervousness as he stands before you and Gwayne.

“Welcome to Oldtown, Prince Daeron,” Gwayne says, his voice kind but formal, as befits the occasion. He kneels slightly, bringing himself closer to the boy’s level, a gesture of respect and warmth that seems to put Daeron at ease.

The boy glances up at you, his lips parting in a small, shy smile. “Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” he replies, his voice small but clear. Then, turning to you, he adds, “My lady.”

You kneel beside Gwayne, reaching out to take Daeron’s hand in yours. His fingers are cold, and you can feel the slight tremor in them. “You’ll be safe here, Prince Daeron,” you assure him softly. “This is your home now.”

Daeron looks up at you, his young face a mix of emotions—fear, uncertainty, but also trust. It’s a look that tugs at your heart, and you find yourself wanting to protect this boy, to give him the guidance and care that only family can provide.

“We’ll take good care of you,” you promise, your voice gentle but firm. “Just as we would our own.”

The boy nods, and you can see the tension in his small shoulders begin to ease. He looks around the hall, taking in the grandeur of the Hightower, the vastness of the space that is now his home. There’s still fear in his eyes, but there’s also a glimmer of something else—hope.

Gwayne rises to his feet, offering his hand to you. “Come,” he says to Daeron, “let’s show you the rest of the Hightower. There’s much to see, and I believe the maester has prepared something special for your arrival.”

Daeron hesitates for just a moment before he takes Gwayne’s offered hand, his small fingers gripping tightly as though seeking reassurance. You stand beside them, a silent guardian of this new bond that is being forged.

As you walk through the halls, Gwayne points out various tapestries, statues, and paintings, telling stories of the history of the Hightowers and Oldtown. Daeron listens intently, his earlier nervousness slowly melting away under the gentle guidance of your husband.

When you reach the maester’s chambers, you’re greeted by the sight of a table laden with books, scrolls, and an array of strange instruments that immediately capture Daeron’s interest. The maester, a kindly old man with a beard as white as snow, greets Daeron with a deep bow.

“Prince Daeron,” the maester says warmly, “I’ve prepared a special lesson for you, one that I think you’ll find quite interesting.”

Daeron’s eyes light up with curiosity, and for the first time since his arrival, you see a genuine smile on his face. He looks up at you and Gwayne, his eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you,” he says, his voice more confident now.

Gwayne squeezes your hand, and you can’t help but return the smile. This, you realize, is what it means to be a family—not just by blood, but by the bonds you choose to create. In this moment, with the warmth of the fire and the promise of a new beginning, you feel something settle in your heart, a sense of fulfillment that you hadn’t known you were missing.

As Daeron sits down with the maester, already engrossed in the lesson that has been prepared for him, you and Gwayne share a look, a silent understanding passing between you.

And in this moment, as you both watch Daeron eagerly absorb the knowledge being offered to him, you know that you wouldn’t have your life being lived in any other way.

The halls of the Red Keep are as imposing as ever as you and Gwayne make your way through the corridors. It's been years since you last walked these halls, and yet they feel as familiar as ever—haunted by memories both bitter and sweet.

Gwayne’s hand rests on your elbow, guiding you through the maze of the castle with practiced ease. He’s dressed in the colors of his house, the green and silver of the Hightowers, his expression calm and composed as always. But you know him well enough to sense the tension beneath the surface, the way his gaze sharpens when he hears a distant sound, always vigilant, always protective.

You both turn a corner and nearly collide with a small entourage, led by none other than Rhaenyra herself. She’s flanked by her husband—your father, Daemon—and their children, their steps purposeful, their expressions tense. Rhaenyra’s silver hair gleams under the flickering torchlight, her violet eyes widening slightly in surprise as she sees you.

“Rhaenyra,” you greet her, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the uncertainty you feel. So much has changed, yet seeing her here, a part of you yearns for the easy camaraderie you once shared as children. 

“Cousin,” Rhaenyra replies, her voice warm despite the strain visible on her face. She glances at Gwayne and then back at you, her gaze searching, perhaps for some sign of how the years have treated you. “It’s been too long.”

“Far too long,” you agree, your eyes flicking to Daemon, who stands slightly behind Rhaenyra, his gaze locked on Gwayne. There’s a tension in his stance, a stiffness that wasn’t there before, and you know immediately that your father is displeased.

Daemon’s eyes are dark, and though he remains silent, the disapproval is clear. His gaze travels from Gwayne to you, then back again, lingering on the clasped hands between you and your husband. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and for a moment, the air seems to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved history.

“You’re back in the capital for the petitions, I presume?” Rhaenyra asks, breaking the silence, her tone carefully neutral. The mention of the petitions brings you back to the grim reality of why you’re all here—the matter of Driftmark, and the question of succession that has thrown the court into turmoil.

“Yes,” Gwayne answers before you can, his voice firm. “We came as soon as we heard.” He glances at Daemon, his expression respectful but guarded. “It seems the crown’s decision is in favor of your son.”

Rhaenyra’s face softens at the mention of Lucerys, but before she can respond, a voice from behind her interrupts. It’s Jacaerys, his young face set in determination. “The matter should have never been in question. Luke is the rightful heir to Driftmark.”

You see the fire in his eyes, the same fire that once burned in Rhaenyra at that age. It’s both heartening and concerning, especially now, in these treacherous waters.

“That he is,” you say gently, offering a smile to Jacaerys. “And it’s clear to anyone with eyes that he’ll make a fine lord.”

Before Jacaerys can respond, Daemon steps forward, his presence commanding attention. His eyes are locked onto yours now, and there’s a storm brewing behind them, a mix of emotions you can’t fully decipher. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, carrying the weight of a warning.

“You’ve found happiness in Oldtown, I see.” The words are directed at you, but his gaze shifts to Gwayne as he says it, his tone laced with something darker. “Though I wonder if the cost was worth it.”

You feel Gwayne’s hand tighten around yours, a subtle gesture of support. “Happiness is not something to be questioned, Father,” you reply calmly, meeting Daemon’s gaze without flinching. “Nor is the loyalty I hold to both my families.”

Daemon’s lips twitch, almost as if he’s about to say something more, but Rhaenyra places a gentle hand on his arm, silently urging him to hold his tongue. There’s a brief moment where it seems he might ignore her, but then he lets out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“We’re here to support our family,” Gwayne adds, his voice measured, addressing Daemon directly now. “In whatever way is needed.”

Daemon studies Gwayne for a long moment, the silence between them stretching thin. Finally, he gives a curt nod, though the hardness in his gaze doesn’t entirely soften. “As you should,” he says, the words clipped, before turning back to Rhaenyra.

“Come, we have business with the king,” he says to her, his voice brooking no argument.

Rhaenyra hesitates, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “We’ll speak later,” she promises, offering a small, genuine smile before following after Daemon, their children trailing behind her.

As they walk away, the tension slowly dissipates, leaving you standing beside Gwayne in the dimly lit corridor. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, leaning slightly into your husband’s side. Gwayne wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his warmth a comfort against the chill that lingers in the air.

“That went… better than I expected,” Gwayne murmurs, a touch of wry humor in his voice, though you can hear the relief beneath it.

“He’s never going to fully approve,” you say quietly, your eyes fixed on the spot where your father had stood. “But he’ll have to accept it.”

Gwayne turns to you, his expression softening as he looks down into your eyes. “I don’t need his approval,” he says, his voice firm. “I have you, and that’s all that matters.”

You smile at that, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes, banishing the last of the unease. “And I have you,” you reply, your voice filled with the love and certainty that have grown between you over the years.

The heavy oak door of your chambers shuts behind you, a soft thud echoing through the room. The warmth of the fire flickers across the stone walls that dance in tandem with your heightened pulse. Gwayne stands before you, his emerald eyes sharp and intense, still simmering with the tension of your earlier encounter in the halls. He says nothing as he approaches, but the way his hand reaches for your waist and pulls you flush against him speaks volumes.

You’ve grown accustomed to the feel of him—the strength in his embrace, the heat of his breath against your skin—but tonight there is something different, something more urgent. The lingering traces of your father’s displeasure hang between you, and you know, without words, that it fuels Gwayne’s every movement.

His lips descend upon yours, fierce and claiming, tasting of the wine shared at the evening’s feast. You respond in kind, your hands weaving through the thick strands of his hair, pulling him closer, as though you could erase the earlier tension through sheer proximity.

His hands roam across your body with practiced familiarity, fingers curling around the ties of your gown, loosening the laces with deliberate slowness. Gwayne leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. “I will make you scream for me tonight,” he promises, and the unspoken words hang heavy in the air—Let him hear.

Your heart flutters in response, not with fear, but with anticipation. The thought of your father just beyond the walls, likely brooding over his anger, stirs something within you. How often had Daemon whispered venom into your ear about the Hightowers, about how they were a poison slowly strangling your family? And yet here you are, wrapped in the arms of one who bears that very name, bound to him not only by vows but by something far deeper, something that even your father’s fury cannot tarnish.

Gwayne’s touch turns rougher, more insistent, and your breath catches in your throat as he lifts you with ease, laying you down onto the bed. The covers crumple beneath your weight, the mattress giving way as he settles over you, his eyes burning with a hunger that matches your own. “I want him to know,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing fire down your throat, “that you belong to me.”

Your back arches involuntarily, and you bite down on your lip, the need to hold back your cries warring with the knowledge of who might hear. Gwayne’s hands grasp your hips, his grip possessive as he moves against you with a rhythm that leaves you breathless. Each movement, each deliberate thrust, is a challenge—a challenge to the walls that separate your chambers from those of your father and his wife.

The pressure builds inside you, the familiar heat coiling in your belly, and you grasp at Gwayne’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you fight against the wave of pleasure threatening to drown you. His mouth hovers over yours, demanding, coaxing you to give in, to let go.

And then you remember—Daemon’s chambers are just beyond. The thought of his reaction, of his barely concealed rage at the idea of you finding joy with a Hightower, sends a thrill through you. You gasp aloud as Gwayne drives into you harder, his breath ragged in your ear, “Louder,” he commands, his voice a mix of authority and need.

You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, letting the sound of his name tear from your lips, louder than before, louder than you ever have. You imagine the look on your father’s face, his fists clenched in helpless fury, and the thought sends you spiraling into a pleasure so intense it nearly blinds you.

Gwayne’s name tumbles from your lips again and again, each cry more fervent than the last, as he brings you to the edge and beyond. You feel his satisfaction in the way he groans your name in return, his hold on you unyielding, as though he could anchor himself to you through sheer force of will.

When it’s over, when the last echoes of your cries have faded into the night, you lay beside him, your body spent and trembling, but your mind still racing. Gwayne’s hand rests possessively on your hip, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of exertion. “He heard you,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You can only nod, the thought of what tomorrow might bring swirling in your mind. But for now, there is only this—only you and Gwayne, and the knowledge that whatever storm your father’s ire might bring, you would weather it together.

In the silence that follows, you curl closer to Gwayne, your fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. “Tomorrow…” you begin, but your voice trails off.

“Tomorrow,” Gwayne echoes, his tone firm, reassuring, “we will face whatever comes. But tonight, you are mine, and that is all that matters.”

You smile softly at his words, closing your eyes as sleep finally begins to claim you.

[blackcat419]

Rewriting HotD: Plot breakdown of Fire and Blood the Dance of the Dragons

Part 4: 131 A.C. to Jaehaera's Death in 133 A.C.

Part 1 Here

Part 2 Here

Part 3 Here

The following is an in depth plot breakdown of F&B where character moments, plot beats, difference in sources, and missing details will all be analyzed and possible solutions proposed. The timeline will start in 101 A.C. with the first great council as where the seeds of the dance were thoroughly sowed and watered to the death of Jaehaera in 133 A.C.

This is the first part of my rewriting HotD series. The next part will talk more about character arcs and expanding on them using the enneagram as a jumping off point.

Page numbers will be cited from my copy of fire and blood the 2022 Trade Paperback Tie-in Edition.

Legend

Bold for the year

Italic for character moments

Blue for Orwyle’s account

Purple for Munkun’s A True Telling

Green for Septon Eustace’s The Reign of King Viserys

Red for Mushroom’s The Testimony of Mushroom

Orange for rumors that have no source

Pink for minor sources where their credibility and bias will be discussed when they come up

(Parenthesis) will be used when I deem it necessary to comment on the story either about the plot or how the fandom views the story.

[brackets] will be used for when I want to add real world historical context.

Where Gyldayn does not identify which source he is using or which sources disagree with eachother, it will be assumed that all sources agree with each other.

Source Bias is discussed in Part 1

Because the war is barely three years, months and other year dividers will be used when mentioned.

22nd day 10th moon of the 130th year Dragon Stone

Aegon sends ravens saying Rhaenyra is dead and he'll take Kings Landing back. Pg 552

1.5 moon cycles presumably the 12th moon of the 130th year Dragon Stone

Aegon waits to sail until Alyn swears fealty to him. Pg 552

9th day of the 12th moon of 130 A.C. Dragon Stone

Sunfyre dies of his wounds. Aegon weeps and commands that Baela be put to death and is only stopped when his maester reminds him that she is Corly's granddaughter. Aegon sends another letter to Alyn commanding him to swear fealty or Baela will be executed. Pg 553

Kings Landing

Borros Baratheon and his army appear outside Kings Landing. Pg 553

Larys Strong offers to parley on behalf of Tryanstan. He, Dowager Queen Alicent, and Maester Orwyle meet with Borros Baratheon in a pavilion to discuss. Alicent cries tears of joy when she hears that Jaehaera is alive. Larys Strong promises to have Ser Perkin and his gutter knights fight to restore King Aegon for pardons, except for Trystane. Alicent agrees to have Lady Cassandra Baratheon wed Aegon and Larys agrees to marry Floris Baratheon. Pg 553-4

Borros Baratheon wants to bring Corlys Velaryon into the discussions but Alicent does not want him to join, seeing him as a traitor and wanting him dead. Larys steadies her and says they should use Corlys for what they can before disposing of him. Pg 554

Borros Baratheon takes the red keep, Ser Perkin and Alicent greet him. Trystane is already in chains. Pg 554-5

Borros disposes of Gaemon Palehair's knights the next day and brings him, his mother, his mother's lover, and his court in chains to the red keep. Pg 555

The next day, the Shepherd calls his followers to defend the Dragon Pit but only 300 show up. Borros Baratheon and Ser Perkin attack the hill from the west and south breaking through the followers and taking the Shepherd into chains back to the Red Keep. Pg 555

Alicent issues a curfew for the city which Ser Perkin reinforces and reforms the city watch. Borros Baratheon sets up his men to man the city walls. Pg 555-6

Alicent and Larys offer terms to Corlys. He rejects them and offers for Aegon the Younger to marry Jaehaera. Alicent gets angry at Corlys and reminds him she offered peace terms twice to Rhaenyra but is calmed by Larys reminding her they need his fleet. Corlys swears fealty to Aegon through Alicent and is granted a royal pardon along with all those who supported Rhaenyra. Ravens are sent just in time as Alyn prepares to invade Dragon Stone and Aegon prepares to behead Baela. Pg 556-7

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Larys Strong: easily betrays Trystane Truefyre when it seemed he placed him in power. This probably shows that Trystane was used to ensure Larys kept control of the red keep and prevented it from falling to another group. Calm Alicent's fury towards Corlys.

Alicent: weeps in joy when she learns Jaehaera is still alive. Wants Corlys dead. Furious at Corlys for the offer for Aegont to marry Jaehaera and is only calmed by Larys reminding her they need him alive and can dispose of him when they need to.

Borros Baratheon: Arrives at King's Landing after the fighting is mostly over. Though he fought a rebel called the third culture king during the dance?

Waning days of 130th year King's Landing

Aegon returns on the Mouse Alyn's mother's ship along with Ser Marston Waters, Ser Alfred Broome, the Two Toms, and Lady Baela still in chains. He is carried to the red keep in a closed litter and immediately goes to pass judgment on the three false kings. Pg. 557

Trystane is the first judged. He is at first defiant but, according to Mushroom becomes disheartened when he sees Ser Perkin has sided with Aegon. He asks to be made a knight before he dies and is knighted by Marston Waters as Trystane Fyre and beheaded by Alfred Broome with Blackfyre. Pg 557

Gaemon is made a ward of the crown. His mother confesses under torture that his father was not Aegon but actually a Lysensie oarsman. Essie, her lover Sylvenna Sand, and 27 of Gaemon's court are hung. pg 558

The Shepherd does not confess his crimes and says that Aegon will meet him in hell by the year's end. He has his tongue ripped out with hot pincers and he and his followers are tied to stakes to be burned with Aegon lighting the Shepherd's pier. Pg 558

Aegon urged by Alicent sends soldiers to capture the lords of the Crownlands that opposed him. Rosby, Stokeworth, and Duskendale are forced to lower Rhaenyra's banners and are marched back to King's Landing to swear fealty and pay ransom for their release. This only hardens the hearts of the Queen's men who father at Winterfell, White Harbor, and Barrowton. Elmo Tully, now lord, calls his banners against Aegon, Benjicot and Black Aly Blackwood, Sabitha Frey, Lord Hugo Vance, Lord Jorah Mallister, Lord Roland Darry, and even Humphrey Bracken as they do not wish to pay the ransom. Jeyne Arryn also has men and ships gathering with Rhaena's newly hatched dragon Morning. Pg 558-60

Aegon is urged to claim Silverwing to secure his claim to the throne. Aegon says he'll have a new Sunfyre and sends for eggs from Dragon Stone. Mushroom says he chose a purple and gold egg to sit on like a turd. Pg 560

Orwyle is released from the black cells and reveals the turmoil in the green council. Corly favored pardoning the lords and finding peace while Aegon wishes to wed and send Aegon the younger to the wall or geld him. Tyland advises killing him outright. Larys brings the council around to placate Corlys while Alyn is not within reach. Pg 560-2

Larys tells Corlys of the council's plan to give him what he wants before killing him but cautions patience. Pg 563

Orwyle records that Aegon's right leg was broken in two places but healed well. The left shattered and withered, he suggested removing it but Aegon refused. He regained the ability to walk with a crutch. Pg 564

Mushroom says Aegon only took pleasure by watching one of his favorites, guards, or Mushroom himself have sex with a woman. Afterward, he would call Septon Eustace and confess his sins. Eustace mentions no such thing. Pg 564

Aegon orders the Dragon Pit to be rebuilt with statues of his brothers. He also burns the proclamations of Gaemon and Trystane. Pg 564

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Alyn of Hull: Mushroom says Alyn chose the Mouse to insult Aegon "Lord Alyn was an insolent boy and did not love his king." Pg 557

Aegon: refuses to take any painkillers and immediately goes to ruling.

Trystane Truefyre: Does not beg for mercy but only asks to be made a knight

Alicent: Urges Aegon to seek vengeance against those who opposed him.

Larys: Mushroom says he would have made a splendid fool because his words were dripped with honey and made poison taste sweet. Described as sly secretive, yet plausible and pleasant when need be.

Westeros

Cregan Stark marches down the Neck with 20 thousand savages according to Eustace and 8 thousand according to Munkun. Pg 564

Jeyne Arryn sends 10 thousand soldiers from Gulltown under the command of Lord Leowyn Corbray and his brother Ser Corwyn. Pg 564-5

Six thousand men gather at the Trident under Elmo Tully and then under his eldest son Kermit Tully after his death from drinking bad water. Pg 565

Borros Baratheon meets the Riverlanders on the King's Road in the Battle of the King's Road or the Muddy Mess. Borros charges the Riverlander forces and is torn apart by the longbows. Bloody Ben attacks the Baratheon host along their flank. When Borros orders his reserve troops to advance, the Stokeworth, Rosby, and Hayford troops do not move. The Duskendale troops go over to the enemy. And the boys from Flea Bottom flee. Borros's horse is killed by Black Aly and he fights on foot, killing countless men-at-arms, a dozen knights, and the Lords Mallister and Darry. Kermit Tully tells him to yield but Borros refuses, rushing at the boy and being taken out by his Morningstar. Pg 565-6

Seven days later, Borros' wife gives birth to a son who he wishes to be named Aegon, instead, the boy is named Royce after his wife's father. Pg 566 footnote

---

Borros Baratheon: dies fighting for King Aegon, refusing to surrender.

Kings Landing

The Green Council sends ravens to their allies to ask for support but only get excuses. The Lannisters are too busy fighting the Ironborn, the Hightowers lost too many men, and the Tyrells are uncertain of their men's loyalty. Tyland Lannister, Ser Marston Waters, and Ser Julian Wormwood have not returned from the free cities to get sellswords. Pg 566-7

Corlys pushes Aegon to surrender and let Aegon the Younger give him to the black, while Alicent pushes Aegon to use Aegon the Younger and Baela as hostages against the remaining queen's men and the Velaryons. Aegon sides with Alicent and tells Corlys to make Alyn fight or risk Baela's death. Pg 567

Ser Alfred Broome is killed by Ser Perkin the flea, pushed off the drawbridge of Maegor's holdfast into the spike pit. Tom Tangleton is beheaded and his father Tom Tanglebeard is drowned in a cask of ale. Baela is taken to safety by agents of Lord Larys Strong. Eustace says 24 men were killed, Munkun says 21, and Mushroom claims to have seen the royal food taster killed and had to hide to avoid the same fate. Pg 568

Alicent was imprisoned in the dungeons and her guards were killed by Velaryon men. Pg 568-9

After a council meeting, Aegon II takes his litter to the sept. In it, he drinks Sweet Arbor Red where he dies from poisoning. Pg 569

Corlys greets Kermit Tully outside the walls of Kings Landing and tells them Aegon II is dead. The Velaryon ships in the Blackwater Bay raise the red Targaryen banner. Pg 570

On the 7th day of the 7th moon of 131st, Aegon III and Jaehaera are wed.

---

Corlys Velaryon: pushes for Aegon to abdicate in favor of Aegon the Younger and leaves when Aegon says he won't do that. He doesn't try to plead, curse, or threaten him, just leaves. Sides with Larys Strong to take power form

Aegon: Seems hopeful that Aegon the Younger might let him take the black but is easily convinced by his mother that he needs to ensure his survival by using Aegon and Baela as hostages.

Alicent: Pushes Aegon to not surrender and uses Aegon the younger and Baela as hostages.

The False Dawn 131 AC King's Landing

Oscar Tully is knighted after the battle of the King's Road. Pg 574.

Benjicot, Oscar, and Kermit talk with Corlys outside the Gate of the Gods. The three are known as 'the lads'. Pg 575

The Riverlords come to bend the knee to Aegon III and the smallfolks cheer as they ride through the city. Mushroom suggests the smallfolks actions were orchestrated by Larys Strong.

The lads come upon Aegon II's body laid out upon a bier as Queen Alicent weeps over him. Pg 576

Aegon II's allies surrender and welcome the Riverlords with only Dragonstone holding out before the staff killed the knights. Pg 576

Eustace says a strange euphoria overtook King's Landing while Mushroom says the city was drunk. Pg 576

---

Aegon III: said little and did less, and lived a life steeped in grief and melancholy. Little joy in marriage or fatherhood. Singularly joyless man. Did not drink, hawk, vacation, indulge in food, and didn't attend tourneys. Mushroom says as a lad he smiled little and laughed less. Pg 572

Oscar Tully: Prideful second son. Pg 574

Benjicot Blackwood: Doesnt weep after the battle Pg 575

Sabitha Frey: Mushroom says 'Sharp-faced, sharp-tongued harridan of House Vypen, who would sooner ride than dance, wore mail instead of silk, and was fond of killing men and kissing women' Pg 575

Benjicot and Alysanne Blackwood: See poison as an unhonorable weapon and disquiet about Aegon II's death. Pg 576

Alicent Hightower: Weeps over Aegon II's body. Pg 576

The Hour of the Wolf Kings Landing

The celebration ends when Cregan Stark arrives and the lads shrink and give him authority. Pg 578

Cregan wants to fulfill Jace's promise to him despite Jace and Rhaenyra being dead. Corlys tells him the war is over and he's too late. Creagan states his plan to continue the war on Aegon II's old allies. Corlys pleads for peace but Creagon is not moved and accuses Corlys of King slaying. Pg 578-9

Creagan and the Northmen imprison Corlys, Larys, Perkin, Orwyle, Questace, and half a hundred others. Pg 579

Cregan berates the lads for not forcing all enemies to yield and reminds them that Tyland Lannister, Marston Waters, and Julian Wormwood going to Essos for sellswords. The lads agree to continue the war, Munkun says willingly because of battle lust while Mushroom says they did so out of fear. Pg 580

Followers of the Shepherd called the reborn rise and called for the destruction of the godless northerners. A bloody melee breaks out over a sex worker between Tully and Stark men. A younger son of Lord Hornwood and two bannermen dispear at night, Mushroom says they were turned into soup. Pg 581

---

Corlys Velaryon: Corlys pleads for peace from Cregan. Pg 579

Cregan Stark: Strong arms everyone into continuing the war. Pg 579-580

Westeros

The Valemen under the Corbray brothers leave Maidne pool. Duskendale and Alyn Velaryon threaten to attack if Corlys is not set free. Jeyne Arryn and Rhaena leave for Gulltown. It is rumored that Marston Waters returned with 10K sellswords and that the Lannisters and Hightowers are on the march. Pg 581

Mushroom says the women made peace with ravens, words, and kisses. Pg 583

Johanna Lannister negotiates for Tyland's pardon, offers two daughters as companions for Jaehaera, and swears allegiance if the crown will help deal with the Greyjoys and rescue the hostages. Pg 583

Elanda Baratheon surrenders and sends three daughters, Willis Fell, and Jaehaera to King's Landing. Pg 583-4

Mushroom says Lady Samanda Tarly guides Lord Lyonel Hightower to surrender in exchange for marrying her. Munkun says he surrendered to keep his brother from being killed by the Tyrells. Pg 584-5

King's Landing

Cregan investigates Aegon II's death. Aegon III is held captive in Maegor's holdfast with Gaemon Palehair. Pg 581-3

Lady Jeyne Arryn arrives with Rhaena and Morning. Rhaena and Baela become darlings of the city and are uncontrollable by Cregan. Pg 585

Cregan forces the council to put Aegon II's murderers to death. Aegon III names Cregan Hand of the King. He judges Septon Eustace innocent, Orwyle guilty of giving the poison to Larys, Ser Gyles Belgrave for either poisoning or allowing Aegon II to be poisoned, and 22 more including the litter bearers, herald, keeper of the wine cellars, the serving man, along with those who killed the two Toms and Ummet the food taster. Ser Perkin is also sentenced to death along with Alicent's captors. Baela pleads for the lives of the men who saved her. Pg 586-8

Corlys confesses to murdering Aegon, saying he did it for the good of the realm. Larys does not confess nor deny the accusations. The two are condemned to death. No one speaks up for Larys but many do for Corlys. Rhaena and Baela get Aegon III to pardon Corlys. Pg 586-9

Cregan decides not to execute Corlys. Eustace says the mother moved him or he feared what Alyn would do. Mushroom says Black Aly swayed Cregan with the promise of marriage. Pg 589

Ser Perkin is the first in line for execution and asks to take the Black, many others follow his lead. The only two men executed were Ser Gyles Belgrave and Larys Strong. Pg 592

Larys' clubfoot is cut off and goes missing before it can be burned. Mushroom says the foot was sold to a sorcerer. Pg 592

Cregna Stark resigns as hand the next day and returns north. Pg 593

---

Cregan Stark: Tells Aegon the younger that false friends are more dangerous than enemies. Pg 582-3 Swayed to not execute Corlys for religious reasons, fear of Alyn's fleet, or seduction by Black Aly. Pg 589 Gives up power as hand and leaves for the North with Black Aly. Pg 593

Aegon III: Tells his guards to get Morning away from him when he sees her. Pg 586-8

Baela Targaryen: Brandishes a sword against Cregan to have her rescuers' lives spared. 586-8

Corlys Velaryon: He says he murdered Aegon for the good of the realm and has many supporters. Pg 589

Larys Strong: Does not speak in his own defense or confess. No one speaks up for him. Pg 589

Alysanne Blackwood: Sways Cregan not to execute Corlys.

Under the Regents (Brief Overview focused on Characterization)

Black Aly proposes Cregan's men marry the Riverland widows. Pg 594

The Lords gather at Kingslanding to celebrate the wedding of Aegon and Jaehaera. Embassies and nobility from Essos and the Southern Islands join. Pg 595-6

Aegon and Jaehaera wed on the 7th day of the 7th month of the 131st year. Pg 596

Willis Fell is appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Marston Waters is appointed to the Kingsguard (both greens). The rest of the white cloaks are given to the Blacks. Pg 597

Tyland Lannister (green) is named Hand of the King, Lord Leowyn Corbray (black) is named Protector of the realm. The Council includes Jeyne Arryn (black), Corlys Velaryon (Black), Roland Westerling (green), Royce Caron (green), Manfryd Mooton (black then green), Torhen Manderly (black), and Grand Maester Munkun (neutral). Pg 597

Orwyle escapes from prison and the guard that freed him is forced to take his place and take the black. Pg 598

Alicent is kept locked away in Maegor's holdfast. Pg 600

---

Alysanne Blackwood: Organizes riverland widows marrying Northmen. Pg 594

Oscar Tully: Establishes and leads the sellsword company the Stormbreakers, showing his eagerness to prove himself and lust for battle. Pg 595

Orwyle: Renounces his promise to take the black and flees. Pg 599

Tyland Lannister: wears a silkhood to hide his disfigurement to spare the ladies at court. Very loyal to Aegon III, claiming not to remember who was green or black because of the torture. Quickly achieves dominance over Loewyn Corbray. Pg 599

Alicent: heart turned to stone after Aegon II's death. Could not be trusted to be around Aegon III without trying to kill him and instructing Jaehaera to kill him. Pg 599

Jaehaera: screams when Alicent tells her to kill Aegon. Pg 599

The Iron Islands and Westerlands

War continues with Dalton Greyjoy attacking the Westerlands. Pg 600

---

Dalton Greyjoy: Refuses to end attacks on the westerlands claiming the women wanted to be taken captive by the ironborn. Pg 600-1

Kingslanding

Maester Orwlye is found to be living in a brothel after teaching the sex workers to read. Tyland saves Orwyle from death and has him confined to a tower cell. Pg 603-4

Jeyne Arryn and Lord Caron both leave the capital due to raids from mountain clans and the dornish in their territories. Corlys dies on the 6th day of the 3rd moon of the 132nd year. Pg 604

---

Aegon III: Munkun writes that he is a broken kid with no joy in him. He does not have hobbies and seems pained when having to speak. His only friend is Gaemon Palehair. He does not sleep through the night. Emotionally numb except to express fear of dragons. Munkun says he is dead inside. Pg 602

Jaehaera: Munkun writes that she is she has no joy and does not laugh, or play. She wets her bed and weeps inconsolably when corrected, and her handmaids said she was regressing back to age four. Munkun laced her milk with sweet sleep to make sure she did not collapse during the wedding. Pg 602-3

Tyland Lannister: Goes out of his way to ensure Orwyle is not killed. Mushroom and Eustace say he did it because he and Orwyle are friends. Pg 604

Orwyle: cares for the sex workers and teaches them to read, which leads to him being caught. Pg 603.

Driftmark

Two of the surviving silent five and Vaemond's son contest Alyn being made lord of Driftmark. When denied, Vaemond's son reconcile with Alyn and are given lands while the two silent men attempt to kill Alyn, only for one to be killed by the Driftmark guards and the other forced to take the black. Pg 606-7

---

Alyn Velaryon: is bold enough to attempt to claim Corly's seat but is refused by Tyland for his age. Pg 607

Kingslanding

Tyland looks to secure the line of succession if Aegon III dies. Pg 607

Baela rebuffs any match for her and runs away to wed Alyn Velaryon. Tyland convinces the regents to accept the match as Alyn is of noble blood. Pg 610-1

Rhaena is more amiable to marriage and is wed to Corwyn Corbray who she grew fond of while in the Vale. Pg 611-2

---

Aegon III: Suggests Gaemon Palehair be named his heir, showing his friendship with the boy. Pg 607

Baela and Rhaena: Take over being the symbols of the royal family for Aegon and Jaehaera. The two receive envoys and lords, give to the poor, and host feasts. Pg 607

Rhaena: delights at being the center of the court. Rhaena lived a life of luxury in the Vale and had men fawning over her there and in Kingslanding. Takes Morning with her everywhere. Pg 608-9

Baela: bristles at praise and mocks and torments her suitors. Perhaps seeing though the suitors only want her for being Aegon's presumed heir. Loves to ride, keeps her hair short, sneaks out to the city, and goes on drunken horse rides. Pg 608-9

Westerlands

Johanna Lannister: dawns man's armor and leads the men of Lannisport and Casterly Rock against the Ironborn Reavers. Songs say she slayed a dozen ironborn but other sources say she did not carry a sword into battle but a banner. Pg 614

Oldtown

Samantha Tarly: When denied entry into all septs for being the mistress of her stepson, she rides into the starry sept to hold the High Septon hostage till he allows her entrance. Pg 614-5

Harrenhal

Alys Rivers takes Harrenhal as her castle and has a small following proclaiming her son Aemonds' trueborn son and rightful king of the Iron throne. Pg 615

Ser Regis Grove of the King's Guard and Damon Darry attempt to retake the castle. Alys raises a hand and Ser Regis dies either from magic, arrows, or according to Mushroom, a slingshot. The castle gates open, and Daemon and the remaining men are set upon with only 32 returning to Darry. Pg 615-6

A few men taken prisoner return to Darry with a message, don't attack Harrenhal unless its to proclaim Alys' son king and don't laugh at the messenger or he dies. Someone laughed and the messenger seemed to choke to death with the bruises of a woman's hand around his neck. Pg 616

---

Alys Rivers: Takes Harrenhal as her new seat in the name of her son with Aemond. Possibly has magic? Pg 614-6

Kingslanding

Jaehaera dies on the 22nd day of the 9th month of 133 AC by falling from her window. The small folk grieve and rumors spread of the reason she died to her being murdered. The city goes mad accusing many people but the only true suspect is Unwin Peake. Pg 638-9

---

Alicent Hightower: Cries more than she reads or sews. Aversion to the color green. Grew delirious in her last days, wishing to see her children and Jaehaerys I again but never mentions Viserys. Pg 618-9

Orwyle: Freed from his imprisonment and takes care of the sick instead of attempting to run again. Sits by Tyland's bedside as he dies Pg 619

Aegon III: Sits with the dying in silence and cares for them. Sits by Tyland when he dies. Pg 619 Gaemon is used as a whipping boy to punish Aegon when he doesn't follow instructions. Shows Aegon's love for Gaemon. Pg 627 Watches the executions of men like he is a wax statue, not seeing what is happening, probably disassociating. Pg 629

Unwin Peake: Overrides Aegon's appointments and goes ahead without recalling the council member who left Kingslanding showing him reaching for power. House Peake had lost a lot of power and relevance after the Targaryen conquest leading to Unwin wanting to claim more power for his house. Places his kin and men in powerful positions in the city. Thought command of the green army in Tumbleton should have gone to him after Ormound Hightower's death. Is not a trusting man. Pg 622-5

Alyn Velaryon: Proud and headstrong Pg 635

Jaehaera Targaryen: A frightened child who hid away in her room but seemed content there with her ladies, dolls, and kittens. Pg 638

[alaynasansa]

To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. “Sweet lady,” he said, “no victory is half so beautiful as you.”

The last tourney had been different, Sansa reflected. King Robert had staged it in her father's honor. High lords and fabled champions had come from all over the realm to compete, and the whole city had turned out to watch. She remembered the splendor of it : the field of pavilions along the river with a knight's shield hung before each door, the long rows of silken pennants waving in the wind, the gleam of sunlight on bright steel and gilded spurs. The days had rung to the sounds of trumpets and pounding hooves, and the nights had been full of feasts and song. Those had been the most magical days of her life, but they seemed a memory from another age now. Robert Baratheon was dead, and her father as well, beheaded for a traitor on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor. Now there were three kings in the land, and war raged beyond the Trident while the city filled with desperate men. Small wonder that they had to hold Joff's tournament behind the thick stone walls of the Red Keep

“I hope you joust better than you talk.”

For a moment he looked shocked. But as the song was ending, he burst into a laugh. “No one told me you were clever.”

He has good teeth, she thought, straight and white. And when he smiles, he has the nicest dimples. She ran one finger down his cheek. “Should we ever wed, you'll have to send Saffron back to her father. I'll be all the spice you'll want.”

He grinned. “I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney ?”

“You may not. It is promised to... another.” She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone

Sansa Month 2023 : day thirteen — tourneys

[paganimagevault]

Yang Guifei by Uemura Tsune 1922. Shohaku Art Museum, Nara, Japan.

Yang Guifei was one of the Four Beauties of China. She was also one of the victims of the era of the An Lushan rebellion, an eight year civil war that radically transformed China from a tolerant nation to an anti-foreigner one. An Lushan was a Turkic rebel that had served as a general in Tang China. He bore a Sogdian name, likely due to childhood adoption by a Sogdian step-father that had wed his Turkic mother from the elite Ashide clan. He was also adopted by Chinese consort Yang Guifei. Though, because Yang Guifei's cousin feuded with An Lushan prior to his rebellion the Tang emperor's soldiers sought her execution. They accused her cousin of causing An Lushan to rebel and also accused him of treason via conspiracy with the Tibetans. The Tang emperor sat idle while the soldiers killed his favorite consort, fearful they would depose him if he defended her too fiercely. Her family was also killed, regardless of their innocence:

"When tourists go to Huaqing Springs in Xi’an today, they can bathe in hot water as she allegedly did when the aging Emperor first saw her among the court women. She is said to have formed a friendship with An Lushan, who became a general of Chinese troops despite his Central Asian origins; she may have even adopted An Lushan as a son. Both Yang Guifei and An Lushan are described as dancing the “whirl,” a Central Asian dance which can be seen in pictures of the Tang court preserved in Dunhuang’s caves on the Silk Road. The Emperor is believed to have been so in love with Yang Guifei, he neglected his duties. The location of Yang’s death is as famous as that of her bath; guidebooks will tell you exactly the location of Ma Lei Station, the place where she was throttled, hanged, or forced to commit suicide by the Emperor’s disgruntled associates." (taken from Columbia.edu)

"In this tense situation, soldiers of the imperial guard declared that Yang Guozhong was planning treason in collaboration with the Tibetan emissaries. They killed Yang Guozhong, his son Yang Xuan (楊暄), Consort Yang's sisters, the ladies of Han and Qin, and Wei Fangjin. (Wei Jiansu was severely injured and nearly killed, but was spared at the last moment.) Yang Guozhong's wife Pei Rou (裴柔) and his son Yang Xi (楊晞), along with Consort Yang's sister, the Lady of Guo, and her son Pei Hui (裴徽) tried to flee, but were killed. The soldiers then surrounded Emperor Xuanzong's pavilion and refused to leave, even after the Emperor came out to comfort them and ordered them to disperse. Emperor Xuanzong then sent Gao Lishi to ask General Chen Xuanli for his advice. Chen's reply was to urge the Emperor to put Consort Yang to death." (taken from Wikipedia)

[demoniqt]

Remarried Empress

Chapter 3: Until I Found You

The coronation ceremony for the Prince Consort of the Demon Emperor came three months after Tianlang-jun and Shen Qingqiu's wedding ceremony.

As promised, the coronation ceremony was being held in conjunction with the belated wedding reception. No one in the whole palace was spared from the wide-scale preparations. Even the demon children of the officials were roped into helping out with the preparations. However, despite the amount of work and hassle, there was a sense of excitement in the air as everyone gossiped about the upcoming celebration.    

"Did you hear? The Violet Spider demon clan wove the imperial wedding robes as tribute to the royal family. Empress Shen will be gorgeous in his bridal robes," tittered one small demon, her furry fox head bobbing along as she ran with her two back legs bipedal style while carrying a tray filled with sweet snacks.

"He's already so beautiful," agreed her weasel companion, who was carrying a tray of tea. "He'll be a hundred times more beautiful with them on."

The two small demons approached the gate to the Royal Quarters and the two guards open the doors for them.

In the courtyard, colourful flowers imported from the human world greeted the two demons as they made their way down the stone path to the pavilion in the middle of the lotus pond.

"Empress, your tea and snacks," chirped the little fox demon to the human cultivator, who was sitting at the forefront with his back to the round table.

"Mn," acknowledged their human empress without looking up from his musical instrument. He was playing the qin as was his habit every morning. It always filled the courtyard and the nearby palace hallways with soothing and healing music. In the beginning, it made the demons stationed nearby nervous and fearful, but as time went by, the demon guards and servants begin to look forward to duties serving their new empress.

Empress Shen wasn't a kind person per se, but he didn't outright abuse any of his servants, unlike many of the demon lords and ladies. He also didn't whip any of the servants unless it was for a severe infraction, like the time someone tried to poison him and Prince Su. The chef and the servants were interviewed intensively by Empress Shen until one of them broke and pinpointed the real perpetrator. He'd left the demon who had masterminded the assassination attempt for Emperor Tianlang-Jun to find and punish while he saw to the punishment of the servant, who was whipped until he was nothing more than a slab of meat before he was hung outside the capital for the scavengers.

Assassination attempts on the royal family significantly dropped after that. Especially because no one ever found out what happened to the demon who had bribed the servant.

Furthermore, everyone in the palace knew by now how Empress Shen had gone into battle with Emperor Tianlang-Jun and led them all to successfully unite the demon world as a whole. The whole peace treaty with the human was also successful because of Empress Shen's presence!

The little demons placed the trays carefully on the table before jumping on the chairs to set the table. Just as they were done and were retrieving the trays, a figure in black and red arrived at the garden.

"How is my beautiful empress doing today?"

The two small demons bowed low as their emperor strode into the pavilion to kiss his husband's cheek.

"Have you finished your paperwork?" questioned Empress Shen, a strict look on his face.

"Aiyo, my wife, I've been up since early morning. I've finished everything Zhuzhi has given me. I was a very good boy," Tianlang-Jun said, sidling closer to his spouse. "Aren't you going to reward me?"

The little fox servant and the weasel servant wisely slid away from the pavilion. But just before the guards closed the gates behind them, the fox demon turned around to see their emperor lean down and Empress Shen tilting his head up to receive his kiss.

It was so good to see Emperor Tianlang-Jun so happy with his new spouse, given the long period of mourning.

Ever since the death of Lady Su, the master of their palace had been wrecked with grief and anger, neglecting their prince and focusing only on uniting the demon world. The little fox had only joined the palace a few years back and had never seen the emperor at the battlefield, but she had heard plenty of rumours of how Tianlang-Jun had rampaged through the armies like a bloodthirsty tempest, leaving nothing but devastation.

These days, their emperor spent most of his time buying gifts for his empress, asking after his employees, sparring with Prince Su, going on outings with his family and laughing. His boisterous laughter could be heard through the hallways more often that not these days and it uplifted many of the servants, including dour old Steward Kui. The old turtle demon was so taken by the changes that he'd even stopped muttering under his breath about human stench.

And then, there was quiet little Prince Su, who had been so lonely and somber. The little fox servant had always wanted to play with him but was too busy cleaning to do more than greet the young prince every time they passed each other in the hallways. Now though, the half human child always returned her cheerful greeting with one of his own as he trailed after his stepmother.

"I can't wait for the wedding!" the fox spirit said, skipping happily down the hallway with her tray. Her companion nodded in agreement.

"Me too! The dignitaries are arriving soon! Let's find a good place to watch!"

***

Shen Qingqiu was well aware that Emperor Huang and his contingent of officials and servants had arrived at the Southern Palace. They were designated to the other end of the palace where the guest quarters were situated. Shen Qingqiu himself had seen to the cleaning, renovation and furnishing of the chambers to ensure that the occupants had nothing to complain about.

However, despite the endless planning and preparations, issues still arose and Shen Qingqiu had to delegate more servants to resolve the problem at the kitchens before reports came in that the humans were making things difficult for the demon servants. Despite his reluctance to step foot into the guest quarters, he went to attend to the troublemakers who were obviously lacking in decorum.  

"Please remember that you are in the abode of others and should therefore show courtesy by not making things difficult for the servants of the host," Shen Qingqiu reprimanded as he stepped into the kitchens. Immediately, the small demons he'd sent to deliver the extra provisions put down their burdens and quickly hid behind him, fearful of the snobbish pregnant human lady terrorising them.

"As if demons know anything about courtesy," Qi Qingqi shot back before making a double take at Shen Qingqiu.

"I should have expected that it would be you causing a ruckus. And regardless of whether demons know courtesy, as a guest, you should show some modicum of manners," Shen Qingqiu said sarcastically. "Did your doting father skip that lesson with you? Or did you fool your multitude of tutors into believing that you have the ability to display perfect manners with just your pretty looks?"

Qi Qingqi looked as if she was about to slap Shen Qingqiu but visibly refrained herself. "At least I have a father and tutors!"

Shen Qingqiu snorted and rolled his eyes, "And yet, who is the one causing trouble for the host upon arrival? Even an uneducated orphan would know better."

Qi Qingqi gritted her teeth before lifting her head to look down on him.

"Looks like your doing well here," Qi Qingqi said, a sneer on her pretty face as she looked him up and down, taking in his silk robes and expensive but elegant jewelry. "Figures that you would fit well with savage demons."

Shen Qingqiu scoffed at her weak jab. "Oh Madam Qi, I'd argue that you'd fit right in too, given your vicious, two-faced nature. We are very much alike in that sense, aren't we? One would argue that Yue Qingyuan has a type. Don't bother denying it. It does take one to know one, after all."

Qi Qingqi pursed her lips and tilted her head as if to look down on him. "I am officially the First Wife now, so you would have to call me Lady Yue. I also have no time to argue with one such as yourself."

"Oh? Running away to Yue Qingyuan already? Just because you can't win? Don't forget. The only reason you can enjoy that status is because of me," Shen Qingqiu reminded.

"Nonsense. It is because of Lord Yue that you can even stand here, boasting about your lowly marriage to a mere ambassador!" Qi Qingqi returned, visibly agitated now.

"Oh no. It's because I'm no longer there as his patsy First Husband that you can become the First Wife," Shen Qingqiu corrected, a smug smile on his face. "No matter what you say, you are still the second. Even after taking the role as First Spouse, you are still just a step-mistress of the house. A second fiddle."

"You!" Qi Qingqi gritted her teeth, snarling at him. "And you are nothing but discarded trash picked up by a barbaric demon!"

"A-Qi?" Yue Qingyuan stepped into the kitchen, looking concerned.

He had heard that his wife was visiting the kitchens to inspect the provisions allocated for the Yue contingent and thought nothing of it. After a while though, he'd gone in search of his wife and heard her shouting from the kitchens.  

However, when he caught sight of Shen Qingqiu, the look of concern melted right off and a look of joy and relief took over.

"A-Jiu!"

Seeing him, Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow in his heart. But unlike the other times before, there was no longing and no heartrending pain. There was only grief at the loss of what they once had.

Taking a deep breath, Shen Qingqiu looked away and focused on Qi Qingqi. He knew it was rude to ignore Yue Qingyuan but he didn't want to give any indication that the man's presence affected him in anyway.

"Regardless of your opinions of me or demons, I will remind you to be courteous to the help," Shen Qingqiu said to her. "They are, after all, the demon emperor's employees, not your minions or sycophants."  

Qi Qingqi glared at him, unable to sneer or shout at him like she clearly wanted since her lord husband was present.

"A-Qi's appetite has been affected by the pregnancy and it makes her a little selective with her meals," Yue Qingyuan said, trying to excuse his wife's bad behaviour. He used to do that too with Shen Qingqiu, not knowing that it made his spouse look bad in front of their audience.

"If there is anything that you need, you can inform Steward Shi and he will do his best to obtain it for you," Shen Qingqiu answered to Qi Qingqi instead of Yue Qingyuan.

"No need," Qi Qingqi retorted, still looking down her nose at him. "I don't need any provisions from the likes of demons. We have brought enough to lasts our stay in this dreary palace."

Well then, there was no need to cause issues for the small demons now, were they? It was obvious Qi Qingqi had only come to the kitchens to cause trouble for the servants and to throw her weight around to establish dominance.

"Very well," Shen Qingqiu said, turning away. "Since there is no more issue, I will take my leave."

"Wait!" Yue Qingyuan called out, following after him into the hallway. Qi Qingqi, annoyed at being left behind, followed after.

Shen Qingqiu had to turn around after rounding a corner and realising that Yue Qingyuan was unwilling to let him go until he'd said his piece.

"What is it, Lord Yue?" he questioned, tone cold and professional.

"A-Jiu, you left so quickly that day, I didn't even have time to process everything that happened," Yue Qingyuan said, looking wronged even though he'd been the one to issue the divorce papers. "And you didn't even say anything before you left."

"We were already divorced," Shen Qingqiu reminded him, going straight for the jugular without physically pinpointing an accusing finger at his ex-husband. "There was nothing left to say. So saying nothing was the best at that time."

"Was there... was there really nothing...?" Yue Qingyuan asked before Qi Qingqi caught his attention by pulling on his sleeve roughly.

"Fujun, I'm tired. Escort me back to our rooms," Qi Qingqi demanded, slithering her arm around her husband's possessively.

"Yes, you should do that. Madam Qi will tire easily with her condition," Shen Qingqiu said, making as if to leave.

"A-Jiu, please come back!" Yue Qingyuan pled suddenly, reaching out for him. Shen Qingqiu dodged the hand by taking two steps back.

"Fujun! What are you saying?" Qi Qingqi screeched. "How can you ask trash like him to return."

"Qingqi! How can you say something so terrible!?" Yue Qingyuan asked, visibly horrified at her words.

"Oh, honestly, Yue Qingqyuan. It isn't as if she hadn't called me that or worse on a regular basis while I was still at Yue Manor. Really, only you would be so oblivious to her real nature," Shen Qingqiu said with a roll of his eyes. "It's been nearly a year since you married her. Surely you cannot still be so blind."

"Why are you still saying things like this?" Yue Qingyuan questioned, looking wronged as always.

"Suit yourself," Shen Qingqiu said, shrugging as he turned away to leave. He was truly unsurprised by Yue Qingyuan's behaviour by now. "I obviously can't convince a cow to climb a tree."

"A-Jiu! Don't leave!"

"Yue Qingyuan, I am no longer your husband. It is highly inappropriate for you to still call me that," Shen Qingqiu reprimanded. "Have some decorum."

"A-Jiu!"

"Yue Qingyuan! Leave him!"

"Leave my A-Niang alone!"

At the new voice, Shen Qingqiu turned to see a petulant Su Binghe storming down the hallway while glaring at Yue Qingyuan and Qi Qingqi. When he got to where Shen Qingqiu was standing, he ignored them in favour of greeting his stepparent.

"A-Niang!" Su Binghe said, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

"A-A-Niang?" Yue Qingyuan parroted as Qi Qingqi gave the boy a disgusted look. Seeing that made Shen Qingqiu ignore the persistent brat's title for him.

"Binghe, have you finished your essay?" Shen Qingqiu asked, taking out a handkerchief to wipe Binghe's cheek, which had a smudge of ink. He took his sweet time patting the boy on the head as well, arranging his messy curls as the boy grinned at him, relishing the attention.

"I've already finished it. I've put it on your writing table but Steward Kui said that you were here, so I came to find you," Binghe said with a saccharine sweet tone. He wrapped his arm around Shen Qingqiu's. "A-Niang, I want to have tanghulu but Chef Mo is so stingy. He won't give me any."

It was clear the boy was putting up a show for the two unruly humans that tried to take his stepmother away. He was really hamming it up for the audience too, trying to clearly establish how absolutely WANTED Shen Qingqiu was in his new home.

Clever boy.

Shen Qingqiu never taught him anything like this before, so he must have learned it from Tianlang-Jun. Whatever. It served to get him out of dodge with Yue Qingyuan.

"Then, A-Niang will scold him for you," Shen Qingqiu answered, leading the happily grinning boy away.

Once again shocked speechless, the Yue couple couldn't utter a single word as Shen Qingqiu made his stylish exit, with his son in tow and all his servants trailing behind him in neat rows.

***

Shen Qingqiu's robes took the best weavers and seamstresses from the Violet Spider demon clan three months to make.

The inner robes were buttery soft, so light and flowy that it barely felt decent when he wore it. The red was so bright and intense Shen Qingqiu wondered where they obtained the dye as it was quickly becoming one of his favourite colours. He couldn't stop touching the material, attracted by its softness and smoothness. He wondered if he could commission silk robes like this to be used as night gowns.

(It would be nigh expensive but surely his doting husband would like to see his Qingqiu sleep comfortably...)

The extravagant outer robe, which was displayed in his room on a stand during the days leading up to the reception ceremony, was at least 20 feet long. When he put it on, it trailed behind him in twilight black silk embroidered with glittering silk threads finer than any humans can produce. There was a golden and red phoenix meticulously sewn to the back to represent his role as the empress, though that wasn't his official title.

"Are you sure you want me to take this role?" Shen Qingqiu asked the day the robes were delivered. He touched the embroidered phoenix with a gentle hand. "What if you found some demoness more suitable?"

"Qingqiu," Tianlang-Jun said, holding his shoulders and turning him to face the demon completely. "There is no other more perfect in my eyes than you, whether as my spouse or as my empress. There will be no other. Even if I am no longer the emperor, you will still be my empress."

"Don't lie to me," Shen Qingqiu said, voice soft. "Don't promise me that."

"Qingqiu, I have only ever loved one person before you and I have never strayed even after her death," Tianlang-Jun said solemnly. "When I saw you at that garden, I was reminded of Su Xiyan, who was so strong and yet so soft. But you, you were everything she was and more. And the more I learned about you, the more I know for certain that I was waiting for you."

He touched Shen Qingqiu's face, "You are my saving grace, Qingqiu. I was so filled with anguish and pain that I ignored my family for years. But you woke me up. That moonlit night, at that garden, I woke up from my grief and fell in love with you."

'You saved me," Shen Qingqiu whispered back, tears clinging to his lashes. "You were the one who saved me."

Tianlang-Jun kissed his brow with a gentle hum before pulling him into his embrace.

"We saved each other."

***

The hall was filled to the brim with officials from both the demon world and the human world.

Emperor Huang, the guest of honour, was seated on the right of the dais meant for the royal couple with his contingent designated on his side of the hall while the demons sat on the other side.

It looked odd. With one half of the hall looking beastly and ferocious as demons all of sizes, colours and shapes filled the seats while the other half were filled with pale-faced humans.  

"I suppose it is only right when the new empress is a human," commented Emperor Huang as he looked around the hall. "And with a crown prince who is a half demon, half human, His Majesty is truly looking for unification."

"Unification of the demon world is all he sought for," assured the beautiful fox spirit that was delegated as their guide to the palace. "Junshang has worked hard to bring order to our world, so he will focus on building our realm and improving our quality of life. Do not worry, Emperor Huang. Junshang has no intentions invading the human world for he respects your culture too much to disrupt your lives."

"Furthermore, our Empress will not be too happy if the world he came from is attacked. Junshang dotes on him so very much," said the fox demon with a giggle. "He would not risk our empress' wrath."

"Is that so," replied Emperor Huang, smoothing his beard in contemplation. "It's good to hear that Master She-"

There was a susurrus of voices from the other end of the hall before the demons were seen ushered to return to their seats.

"It is the auspicious hour," the fox spirit said, bowing to Emperor Huang, who courteously returned the gesture before returning to his seat. When the attendees were settled into their seats, the steward made the announcements for the royal family's arrival.

"Announcing Prince Zhuzhi-Lang!"

The general who usually shadowed Tianlang-Jun entered the hall, dressed in long black robes lined in green embroidery, with his normally unbound hair set in a high bun encircled with a golden hair crown shaped like a coiling snake.

It was the first time the humans had seen him dressed so formally and it was a shock to many to discover his familial connection with the Emperor of the Demon World. Given his quiet and unassuming nature, many of the human officials had overlooked what they essentially thought was a common subordinate.

"Announcing Crown Prince Su Binghe!"

A beautiful child dressed in black robes with a thick red brocade belt sauntered down the hallway, eyes trained on the dais as his stepmother had instructed. He would be sitting on the left between his cousin and his new mother.

Elsewhere in the hall, it took several moments before Yue Qingyuan recognised the child as the one he'd seen with Shen Jiu. The one who'd call him A-Niang-  

"Announcing Emperor Tianlang-Jun and Prince Consort Shen Qingqiu!"

The ambassador that had travelled to the human world with just a few demon soldiers and a general stepped into the hall, hand-in-hand with Shen Qingqiu, Yue Qingyuan's former First Husband.

"A-Jiu..?" Yue Qingyuan was only able to dimly register a shocked sound emitting from his wife beside him as the royal couple paraded past them. His eyes was fixated on his ex-husband, who looked as beautiful as he did when Yue Qingyuan first married him, if not more, with his extravagantly exquisite bridal robes trailing behind him.

"No... no way," Qi Qingqi breathed to herself, eyes as wide as saucers.

But there was no denying it.

It really was Shen Qingqiu who was seated at the high throne of the Empress of the Demon World.

***

Originally, the dressmakers suggested a cathedral-length red veil but Shen Qingqiu had vetoed it, saying that their unveiling ceremony was already done and over with. Instead, he's chosen a matching set of golden headdress and hairpins that complimented his husband's head crown.

Now, he was glad for it because he could clearly see everyone's expressions, including the blatant shock on the faces of the human attendees. So, Tianlang-Jun really did neglect to announce his true identity and led them all to believe that he was a mere lord ambassador. Only the Emperor Huang didn't seem surprised, which was to be expected.

Shen Qingqiu didn't bother looking over to where the Yue contingent was, focusing only on his slow stride up the raised dais where the high rulers of the demon world would sit.

"We thank you for your presence today," Tianlang-Jun said to all the attendees, a handsome smile on his face. "On this beautiful day, we are officially celebrating my wedding as well as the appointment of my Prince Consort, my beloved Qingqiu."

As he said so, the demon emperor turned to Shen Qingqiu, taking his hands and looking into his eyes.

"Before we married, I swore that I will treat you with the utmost respect and that you will be no lesser than anyone," Tianlang-Jun said. "Now, I stand here at the pinnacle to promise that for as long as this empire stands, you will be my equal. You will be revered as the ruler of the demon world, sitting by my side, sharing my throne."

Shen Qingqiu blinked his eyes, willing his tears not to fall on such an auspicious occasion.

Even if this was temporary, even if Tianlang-Jun was lying to him, even if Shen Qingqiu were to fall out of favour, such a public announcement made by the emperor was undeniable and irrevocable.

Tianlang-Jun was making it clear to all that no matter what happened, Shen Qingqiu would always have a place here, esteemed and venerated as the empress.

Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth but his normal silver tongue failed him and he couldn't utter a single word in return.

He didn't need to though. Witnessing his speechlessness, Tianlang-Jun gave him the same dimpled smile that he had greeted Shen Qingqiu with when they first met under the full moon.

"Tonight, let us celebrate my beautiful Qingqiu! My husband! My beloved Prince Consort! My Empress!" Tianlang-Jun addressed the hall, lifting the goblet of red wine prepared for the royal couple. He drank a sip before passing it to Shen Qingqiu, who shared the same goblet to represent their new entangled lives as a married couple.

"Drink, Eat and Celebrate!"

"Long live Emperor Tianlang-Jun!"

"Long Live Prince Consort Shen! Our Empress Shen!"

***

Yue Qingyuan was frozen in place, despite his wife pulling insistently at his sleeve to get him to sit down.

Everyone else had taken their seats as rows of servants came gliding into the hallways with trays of food and drink. Being the only official standing in the hallway would make Yue Qingyuan stand out like a sore thumb.

"Sit down, Fujun!" Qi Qingqi whispered desperately, pulling harder at his sleeve. She was already embarrassed enough, knowing that the attendees were whispering about them. Looking around surreptitious, she found that indeed many of the officials were shooting snide looks at them while gossiping about how Shen Qingqiu, the discarded spouse of Yue Qingyuan, was now elevated to a higher standing than the Yue family.

"Who would have thought, someone like him, becoming an empress?"

"He certainly upgraded," the Minister of Ceremony said to his companion with a snicker.

"Imagine being divorced by his husband for a younger wife, only to become the Prince Consort."

"It's certainly better than being just a Second Spouse," a junior minister sitting behind them whispered. Hearing that, she turned around to glare at the man, who looked away while sipping his wine.

Fortunately for her, Yue Qingyuan's legs finally gave way and he sat down onto his seat. His face though was still ashen and slack from disbelief. But Qi Qingqi didn't care about that. She just didn't want anyone to gossip about how her husband was still hung up over his ex-husband during such a public event. As it was, shame was making her face burn a bright red. What a jinx Shen Qingqiu was! Couldn't he just quietly marry a small official rather than pompously airing out the fact that he was divorced!?

"Shen Qingqiu," said the young warrior beside them, who Qi Qingqi recognised as the oldest son of General Liu. He turned to look at Yue Qingyuan, who was still staring at the dais with an air of desperation.

Liu Qingge was a handsome young man who was steadily making a name for himself in the battle fields and proving himself to be a worthy heir for the Liu family. Qi Qingqi's father had contemplated marrying her to him once, before Qi Qingqi had gotten a glimpse of Yue Qingyuan and fallen in love with him at first sight. She had spent days convincing her father to help her stage the first meeting between Yue Qingyuan and herself.

Now though, she was second guessing herself. Perhaps she should have listened to her father instead...

"Shen Qingqiu disappeared after you divorced him," Liu Qingge said, his volume bordering on loud and completely foregoing subtlety, much to Qi Qingqi's surprise and annoyance. "You claimed that he was taken away, did you not?"

"No, he left on his own accord," Qi Qingqi answered instead, irritated that these men were focusing on the discarded trash that just happened to catch the eye of a demon.

"He left, with Tianlang-Jun," Liu Qingge repeated her words. "Leaving with a demon would be preferable than staying in the capital as a divorcé."

Yue Qingyuan made a choking sound and she could feel him tremble where she was still holding onto his arm. She squeezed his biceps as hard as she could in warning.

"Pull yourself together," she whispered to her husband angrily. Wasn't she embarrassed enough already?

"If I knew you were going to abandon him just like that," Liu Qingge continued, ignoring her glare. "I would have taken him away myself, Lord Yue."

At that, Yue Qingyuan slammed his palm on the table and turned to glare at the general's son.

"Shen Qingqiu's advice to my father about the weaknesses to the barbarians' battle formations was what led us to victory in the west borders," Liu Qingge said, unaffected by the venomous glowers from the Yue couple. "He would have done well as an advisor to the general."

"Now the demons will benefit from our loss," agreed his father with a nod. "A pity."

Yue Qingyuan's hand was now curled into a tight fist and Qi Qingqi wondered if he was about to punch Liu Qingge. She hoped not. Her reputation would never recover if he did.

"Ambassador Huli did mention that the empress went into battle with their Junshang and became the lynchpin to the complete unification of the demon world," someone behind her whispered and she sneered to herself at that.

When Shen Qingqiu was still available to their court, no one wanted to listen to him and even belittled him to his face. Now they are lamenting what a loss losing him was!? What a bunch of hypocrites!

"The Prince calls Shen Qingqiu 'mother'."

"...acknowledges him. When Prince Su becomes Emperor, will Shen Qingqiu become Empress Dowager as well?"

"An orphan with no standing, now a Prince Consort. He certainly has his ways, doesn't he?"

"Used Lord Yue to elevate himself, now he's the empress."

"He's just a demon prince consort!" Qi Qingqi exclaimed impulsively, almost too loud. Fortunately for her, none of the demons on the other side of the hall heard her annoyed statement since they were too rowdy in their celebration. But the officials near her all heard and someone actually scoffed at her.

"And you're just a Second Wife."

She whipped around to see who it was who brazenly said that but no one looked at her or gave her any indications on who the culprit was, going back to their conversations and food as if nothing happened. She grinded her teeth and had to stop herself from spitting out that she was the Yue family First Madam now. Never mind that she was a step, she was now Yue Qingyuan's First Spouse!

Qi Qingqi wished she could leave the hall without seeming rude. Emperor Huang would surely censure her and her husband if they were to get up and leave at just the beginning of the celebration.

Hadn't she suffered enough for the past three months!? Ever since that jinx left, her husband had been wallowing in so much self-pity that he couldn't bring himself to visit her courtyard! Even worse, he wasn't listen to her requests or complaints anymore, often just staring out into space despondently and ignoring her.  

She just couldn't understand this man. Didn't he want this as well? He'd agreed to the divorce himself. Now he was acting as if Shen Qingqiu had been the one to write him the divorce papers!

She never signed up for all this when she agreed to marry Yue Qingyuan!

Fuming, Qi Qingqi prepared herself to sit through the worse wedding she'd ever attended.

***

The celebration for the coronation lasted for a week.

(On retrospect, it was a good thing he'd vetoed his husband's suggestion for a full month of celebration earlier.)

By the last day, Shen Qingqiu was ready to throw in the towel. He was so tired out from the drinking and eating as well as the socialising, which was what he dreaded the most every morning.

Worse still, his husband had taken the opportunity to 'celebrate' their union every night like it was their wedding night. Wringing orgasm after orgasm from Shen Qingqiu till he begged for mercy from his husband.

Let him rest! (Or rather, let his ass rest for a night!)

But no, even after crying pitifully from overstimulation in his husband's arm, Tianlang-Jun had continued to bring him to the height of pleasure by sucking him dry.

The next morning, Tianlang-Jun strutted about proudly with a red hand mark on his face.

He was lucky that they both had good healing prowess (or rather, Tianlang-Jun's blood parasite worked wonders). By afternoon, his bruised face was handsome again and Shen Qingqiu had forgiven him for the abuse he'd inflicted on his peach butt. At least, until night fall.

Shen Qingqiu surreptitiously yawned behind his fan as Su Binghe inspected the sweet goodies on the table.

"A-Niang, what is this one?" Su Binghe asked, putting a yellow square pastry on his plate.

"Oh, it's a pine pollen cake," Shen Qingqiu told him. "You won't find it here in the demon world. We don't have pine trees here. At least, not the edible kind."

"I've never been to the human world before," Su Binghe said, putting his spoon in his mouth and muttering around it. Shen Qingqiu gave him a look and he quickly pulled the spoon out.

"When your father and I have time, we'll bring you there," Shen Qingqiu said offhandedly, shuffling the calligraphy pages the prince had handed to him. "Here, re-copy this poem. Your writing here is very wobbly and uncertain."

"Yes, A-Niang," Su Binghe replied, taking the papers and putting them aside to correct later. He picked up his spoon again.  

"Shizun," Shen Qingqiu corrected, though there was no heat in his words.

"Shizun," Su Binghe parroted obediently as he scooped a large spoonful of the cold pudding Shen Qingqiu's chef had prepared for them and chomped down on it.

Shen Qingqiu pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his adopted son's mouth, "Eat slowly."

Su Binghe grinned at him, eyes crinkling shut and Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but feel just a smidgeon of fondness for the boy.

When he looked up, he was simultaneously unsurprised and disconcerted to find Yue Qingyuan standing in his personal gardens.

How did this man even get in here? Did he scale the walls? How did he even know where Shen Qingqiu was?

And didn't he already say all he had to in their last meeting?

"A-Jiu, please, may we talk?" Yue Qingyuan asked plaintively and Shen Qingqiu sighed in defeat. But he couldn't deny his ex-husband such a simple request. Not when he looked so unwell, with his sunken countenance, pale lips and swollen eyes.

Also, there was no point dragging things longer. Better to cut ties completely and without further ado.

Su Binghe was glaring venomously at Yue Qingyuan since he appeared, but it turned into a full on pout when Shen Qingqiu got up.

"A-Niang!" the boy whined but Shen Qingqiu ignored him as he exited the pavilion they were having tea in.

"What is it?" Shen Qingqiu asked, his tone cold and professional. He stopped a distance away but it didn't stop Yue Qingyuan from eagerly coming forward. When he tried to reach for Shen Qingqiu's hands, the cultivator in green stepped backwards without hesitation, maintaining a distance between them.

"A-Jiu-" Yue Qingyuan started but was interrupted by Shen Qingqiu immediately.

"Please do not call me that anymore," he said firmly. "I am no longer your husband. You gave me divorce papers, remember?"

At that reminder, the devastation on Yue Qingyuan's pale face became even more prominent.

"I didn't. I didn't mean for this to happen," Yue Qingyuan said and Shen Qingqiu had to curb the urge to physically slap him in the face.

"You didn't mean to divorce me by handing me divorce papers? Or did you mean that you didn't anticipate me leaving and instead, expected me to wait for you after putting me away in storage like a dried out piece of jerky?" Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but retort instead. "I'm a living being. I have emotions. I'm not something you can push aside to make your young wife the priority and then be alright with being picked up again like I'm an object."

"I'm sorry, A-Jiu!" Yue Qingyuan said, hands fluttering as he made an aborted movement to grab Shen Qingqiu's hands. "I thought that you would understand why I prioritised A-Qi and the baby."

"So you're saying that it's my fault that I didn't want to be neglected?" Shen Qingqiu couldn't believe the gall of this man. "Excuse me for being so insensitive to your feelings. I should have bowed to your every whim and shut my hurt feelings. I am so selfish for wanting the love of my husband. Even if it is just an ounce of it."

"I do love you!" Yue Qingyuan insisted.

"And what a fantastic way of showing it. Marrying another woman despite my protests. Ignoring my complaints, neglecting me, hitting me when you promised never to hurt me, blaming me for things your wife did, divorcing me to make your second wife the official spouse," Shen Qingqiu listed. "Honestly, Yue Qingyuan. There's only so much someone can take. Even a saint has their limit and we all know that I'm not that."

Yue Qingyuan bowed his head in shame when Shen Qingqiu started counting the ways he'd been wronged and when he finished, Yue Qingyuan asked in a small voice, "Do you truly no longer love me?"

"What use is it loving someone who abandons me repeatedly?" Shen Qingqiu returned, his inflection monotone and unfeeling. "I'm not a dog. I'm not so forgiving, or so blindly loyal."

Those words seemed to hit Yue Qingyuan hard as he gasped as if his heart had been dug out and tears started falling from his eyes. Then, to Shen Qingqiu's utter shock, he fell to his knees in front of him.

"A-Jiu! A-JIu! I'm sorry! Please come back," Yue Qingyuan begged pitifully, reaching out to Shen Qingqiu again. "I know I was wrong! I truly did neglect you. After you left, I went to your courtyard and your servants told me everything."

But before he could touch Shen Qingqiu, Su Binghe ran forward and pushed him down. Then he wrapped his arms around Shen Qingqiu's middle.

"A-Niang is ours now! You can't have him back! You didn't want him! So it's your fault you lost him!" shouted Su Binghe as he tightened his arms around Shen Qingqiu's waist.

"Binghe," he reprimanded but he didn't say anything else about Su Binghe's possessive behaviour. The boy had grown up without knowing much familial love. It was only after his stepmother's arrival that his cousin and father finally paid attention to him. There was no way Su Binghe would let his stepmother be taken away!

To be honest, Shen Qingqiu understood his thought process. As someone who didn't have much growing up, Yue Qingyuan was the only one he had and as a result, he had held onto him like a barnacle, unwilling to compromise even an inch when it came to his love.

Perhaps that was his biggest mistake. Loving Yue Qingyuan too much.

Perhaps Yue Qingyuan had found it all too suffocating and without realising it, searched for ways to establish a distance with him.

Well, now he was free from Shen Qingqiu's all too consuming love.

"You should be glad," Shen Qingqiu said, unmoved by the pathetic display from Yue Qingyuan. Once, he would have been done anything to hear Yue Qingyuan plea for his return. Would have jumped at the chance to be with his first love again, starting the unending cycle of pain and suffering once more. But now, he knew better.

He was happy here. He belonged here. Where he would be appreciated for his intelligence, cunning and ruthlessness, instead of being condemned and looked down upon merely for his birthright.

"You can have as many political marriages as you want without me weighing you down now," Shen Qingqiu said. "You will no longer have a blight in your family and you will no longer have to worry about evil schemes from me."

"A-Jiu, I don't- I don't care about any of that anymore!" Yue Qingyuan insisted, his words muffled by his sobs. "I won't marry any other! Just come back!"

"We're done, Yue Qingyuan," he said firmly to his ex-husband. "We were already over the moment you broke your promise."

"A-Jiu..."

"You promised that you will love no one else," Shen Qingqiu said.

"Now you will have to love someone else."

***

"Is it over with?"

Shen Qingqiu looked up from his mirror, putting down his comb. He got up to help his husband undress.

"Yue Qingyuan came right? Binghe told me," Tianlang-Jun said, watching Shen Qingqiu intently.

"He did," Shen Qingqiu answered. "I've said what I wanted. It is over now."

"I wonder though," Tianlang-Jun said, lifting his arms so Shen Qingqiu could remove his belt. "Yue Qingyuan is oddly persistent, isn't he?"

"He's always been like that," Shen Qingqiu said with a sigh. "So rash. Never thinking of the consequences."

"You do not regret it then? Leaving Yue estate?" Tianlang-Jun asked and Shen Qingqiu gave him a look.  

"Are you being insecure?" Shen Qingqiu replied wryly. "I never thought I would see the day that you'd be insecure about yourself."

"I'm not insecure about myself," Tianlang-Jun returned.

"Just about my feelings for you," Shen Qingqiu finished for him.

Tianlang-Jun didn't grace him with an answer to that. He just stared at Shen Qingqiu expectantly, waiting for his reply. The intensity of his gaze would have intimidated anyone else. But it made Shen Qingqiu feel... heard.

"You do not need to worry," Shen Qingqiu said, finally. "I am going no where."

"You are my husband now," he continued, pulling Tianlang-Jun's outer robes off. "For better or for worse."

Tianlang-Jun put his hands on Shen Qingqiu's shoulders.

"Qingqiu," Tianlang-Jun said, kissing Shen Qingqiu gently on the lips. "For better or for worse."

Then he wrapped his arms around Shen Qingqiu and put their foreheads together.

"My Empress," Tianlang-Jun said, a note of reverence in his voice. "You will stay with me forever, won't you?"

Shen Qingqiu stared into his husband's eyes and answered with complete honestly;

"Yes."

*

*

*

End Chapter Three: Until I Found You

I would never fall in love again until I found her I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into" I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her I found you

~ Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

Notes:

Not LBH downright calling SQQ his mother just to stake his claim. And I imagine LBH going cuteness overload with SQQ just to rub it in the Yue couple's faces whenever he spies them. Did TLJ put him up to shadowing SQQ like a little duckling? Nope. He did it on his own accord. Sticky little rice ball.

Did Qi Qingqi have the worst time of her life? You bet she did. She was so humiliated she didn't even come out of her chambers for an entire week. The servants rejoiced! Peace for a whole week!

Also, LQG cameo-ed because I wanted it. Lol. In another world, LQG would have been the one to snap SQQ up. Even if he never met TLJ, SQQ would have left the Yue estate regardless after the divorce and when LQG catches wind of it, he'd have hunted SQQ down and taken him to the borderlands where SQQ would have become the general's advisor and thrive there. Will I post this fic on tumblr? Maybe. For now, you can find it at myAO3 acc under the pseudonym demoniqt. 

Prologue

Epilogue

[thelonesomequeen]

Pascal! Welcome Back from your trip! Glad you had a great time. Is it too personal to hear some details of your travels? I can’t afford to have any sort of vacation right now, so I would love to “live vicariously” through your little experience if you wouldn’t mind sharing since I know you also love traveling.

Also, let me be clear… I’m on the same page as you ladies with Alba: I do not like her. However, is it weird that I feel bad for her? Like I have no idea what’s going on from the inside or what she’s got going on & such. But I couldn’t deal with all the harassment she’s dealing with from strangers on a regular basis, especially at her age. Just for marrying some guy. Like it’s honestly insane.

Sure! I will say it’s kind of a boring story because we just kind of stuck to the resort and relaxed a bit. If you’re ever looking to travel, check out the apple vacations website because we were able to find some great deals on there! There were some excursions we considered doing but ultimately didn’t because the trip was so short. I would have liked to see Chichen Itza, other ruins in Tulum, and explore cenotes around the area but we decided we just wanted to relax. I do want to go back to Mexico one day when we have a bit more time to see those things as well as explore more of the history and culture of country itself because I feel like there’s so much to see and do. We planned our trip literally 3 weeks before we left, so had I had more time to look into things, I maybe would have stayed somewhere else closer to some of the excursions we were interested in so we wouldn’t have lost too much time traveling.

We stayed in Riviera Maya and the resort was actually very nice. It was perfect for exactly what we did which was stay on property for the long weekend and just enjoy what the resort had to offer. We had gorgeous weather the entire time. We mostly soaked up the sun at the pool and on the beach and it was great. As much as I wanted to run around seeing things, it was nice to just kick back and relax. Our resort was right next to a marina so we were able to walk around and check out some shops and have dinner at a restaurant right on the ocean. I love a good water view. Saturday I tequila-ed a little too close to the sun both literally and figuratively. 😂 If someone offers you a Paloma or margarita with a Tajin rim instead of salt, do it! It’s so worth it! The next day was a tad rough, but we enjoyed some massages at the spa before heading back to the pool. It made my summer lover heart happy. Then it was back home to the cold and snow 😭 I didn’t take too many pictures, but I can share the view from our room which overlooked the pool and ocean as well as their pavilion that they use for weddings and other fun guest activities 🦎

[cactusfinch]

“Lady Bridgerton,” Anthony said, offering his hand to help her up the short set of stairs.

“Ah,” she tutted lights as she bypassed his hand. “Not yet,” she said with a wink.

The small pavilion was furnished with two benches, each adorned with cushions and thick blankets. The low table sported a lit candelabra and a covered bowl of sliced fruit.

Kate cast a wry look at her fiancé. He had acted as if his suggestion for a walk was a spur of the moment idea, not the first step in an organized plan to secure an unchaperoned assignation.

 “Three days is hardly anything,” Anthony argued, his slight smile brighter than the glowing flames of the candles. “Tomorrow I will arrive at Danbury House on my white horse, your sister will endeavor to hide my shoes, and Hastings will do his very best to permanently mar by forehead while he pretends at love and acceptance.”

Kate ignored his aspersions of Simon’s role in the wedding. She knew the men had only gotten closer, finally fully mending the damage Simon’s marriage to Daphne had done to their friendship, and that Anthony was thankful for Simon stepping in for Kate’s male relatives.

“Perhaps I wish to savor my last days of being Miss Sharma,” she suggested. She ran a gloved hand over the line of his shoulder as she circled him. Anthony twisted to keep her face in sight. “Is it so odd I do not wish to give up my name before its time?”

[lasororiteinfernale]

【ＴＨＥ　ＢＥＨＥＭＯＴＨ】

· ◈ ·

𝔄𝔟𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔅𝔢𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥

"𝙰 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚢-𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜- 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 !"

"…𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎."

"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑'𝚜 '𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛' 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚍…"

"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚗 𝙻𝚊𝚍𝚢…"

· ◈ ·

Engine / Engineer's Private Quarters………#00

Staff Quarters, Ammenities & Kitchens……#01, #02, #03, #04

Passenger Common Areas………………………..#05, #06, #11, #12, #30, #31

Passengers' Quarters……………………………….#07, #08, #09, #10 Shops……………………………………………………….#12, #14

The Grand Café…………………………………………#15

Opera House……………………………………………#18 Ballroom…………………………………………………..#19

The Greenhouse……………………………………….#21

The Swimming Pool………………………………….#22

The Beastly Spring…………………………………….#30

The Steam Room / Crimson Carriage…………#42

Nursery (Lower) / Infirmary (Upper)…………..#51

Caboose / aka The Gloaming Dome…………..#53

-ENGINE / ENGINEER'S QUARTERS-

#00

Restricted from ALL passengers. Easily the most imposing car of them all, and the Grand Lady's own steamy heart. While the engineer's quarters are located beneath the control areas, the Grand engineer- Damien Teller- apparently prefers to sleep on the floor of the driver's compartment.

-STAFF QUARTERS / AMMENITIES & KITCHENS-

#01, #02, #03, #04

Restricted from ALL passengers.

-PASSENGER COMMON AREAS-

#05, #06, #11, #12, #30, #31

There are multiple, cosy 'lounge' areas about the train for having a quiet parley with a nice view. All common areas are open for breakfast and high tea, only.

-PASSENGER QUARTERS-

#07, #08, #09, #10

The last three digits on your ticket are your compartment number! Each of the sleeping carriages are two-levels- upper levels for single sleeping houses, and lower for multiples. With the jostle-control and the elegant atmostphere of the corridors- the spacious, manor-like "compartments"- it's easy to forget you're aboard a moving train until you look out a window.

-SHOPS-

#12, #14

For any need you may have on your travels. All stores are kept stocked and updated throughout the trip when the Behemoth makes its routine re-supply stops in major cities.

𝓑𝓸𝓷 𝓑𝓸𝓷 𝓥𝓸𝔂𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓼 : Lovely, little chocolates in the shape of the The Grand B. wrapped in gold foil, anyone ? And much more.

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓹 : Souvenirs ! Including snow globes, puzzles, engraved tea spoons, and of course, reproduction blue-prints of the Behemoth's steam engine.

𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼 : Boutique of trendy clothing, constantly replenished with new styles on re-supply stops.

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓙𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓼 : If a jewel or two is needed to complete a look for the upcoming ball, you may borrow something sparkling here- with a flute of champagne while you browse.

-THE GRAND CAFÉ-

#15

If coffee (or a warm chocolatine) is a morning necessity of yours, the best brew can be found at the quaint little café- or if you're hung-over and too much white tile will sear your blood-shot eyes, you can have an page deliver it to your quarters.

-OPERA HOUSE-

#18

Three levels make up the Grand Opera Theatre- done all in dramatic reds and a magnificent staircase.

-BALLROOM-

#19

It's customary use, according to Agnello, is for wedding receptions. However, there are the odd soirées- the very reason you packed those fancy-dress clothes, mind you. The ballroom's design is inspired, says Agnello, by the Medici Palace in Florence.

-THE GREENHOUSE-

#21

A glass carriage that is filled with greenery, a butterfly pavilion and a strip of fountains called “The Reflecting Pool”.

-THE SWIMMING POOL-

#22

Swimming pool. The whole car smells of chlorine, but what can be done ? While the obvious thought is that the pool water would surely jostle out of the pool on a steam engine- never fear ! The Pool car, like the residence carriage and others, is stable as a nun's hand- even as the landscape screams by out the windows.

-THE BEASTLY SPRING-

#30

The most glamourous restaurant aboard the Behemoth, if Chef Carlisle may say so himself. Reservation Only.

-THE STEAM ROOM aka THE CRIMSON CARRIAGE-

#42

Jazz lounge/Night club, open only by night. Have a few sips of the Beastly Brew, get choked on the cloying smell of cigars…watching the tipsy crowd sway hazardously in the dim dark of the red club. It's a bit hypnotising, being there in the music and drink. Something that keeps drawing people back each and every night.

-NURSERY / INFIRMARY-

#51

Nursery for the lil 'uns by lower deck, while the infirmary for any minor injuries or a mild case of the sniffles is in the upper. Why the clinic is manned by a surgeon and a dozen or so nurses- well, you're not all that concerned. Agnello just wants to be careful- !

-CABOOSE aka THE GLOAMING DOME-

#35

A glass-domed car- the most excellent place for viewing the landscapes.

A NOTE ON TRAVELLING BETWEEN CARS:

On a usual sort of train, between cars is a hazardous place to be- in particular when the train is in motion. Not the case with the Grand Behemoth, however. Expertly designed for flow of foot-traffic, the areas between cars are safely bridged and easily traversible.

To leave any carriage, you must pass through a sliding door into a small compartment with a person called a "porter" and another sliding door to the outside. [The porter is there to make sure that one or both doors are closed at all times- never open together.] Pass through the next sliding door and you will come to the bridge between carriages, which is flanked with walls so that mishaps absolutely do not occur. It takes a little more than five steps to cross to the next carriage. Then the process of sliding doors is repeated upon entry (except, of course, in reverse.)

[ For underwater excursions, these bridges and "walls" have the ability to be retracted and the carriages are then air-locked together. ]

A NOTE ON TRAVELLING IN-CAR:

"Side Corridors" are especially used by those just passing through a car on the way to another so that they don't have to walk straight through the ballroom or a restaurant just to get to another car.

Side Corridors are accessible right as one enters the second sliding door- off to the right (foot traffic headed towards the Caboose) and to the left (foot traffic headed towards the Engine). These discreet passages keep passengers flowing seamlessly from entrance to exit without interrupting the activity of whatever car they happen to be travelling through.

· ◈ ·

[micro-expressions]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Bada Bing Neon Sign Woman Sexy Party Festival Birthday LED Mancave Gamer Light.

[weddingcentralpark]

Kerrie and Zach Wedding in Cop Cot in October

Kerrie and Zach brought a small group of their close family with them to New York from their home in Newcastle in England this October.  They got married in Cop Cot.  Zach was 29 and Kerrie 28, and had been together for nine years when they got married. Kerrie and Zach first met in high school when they were 14 and 15 years old.  “We dated a little while but nothing serious and things just…

[udantravel]

Tempo Traveller Hire In Gurgaon To Jaipur

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Jaipur is the capital of India’s Rajasthan state. It evokes the royal family that once ruled the region and that, in 1727, founded what is now called the Old City, or “Pink City” for its trademark building color. At the center of its stately street grid (notable in India) stands the opulent, colonnaded City Palace complex. With gardens, courtyards, and museums, part of it is still a royal residence.

Jaipur, the capital city of Rajasthan, India, is renowned for its rich history, vibrant culture, and stunning architecture. Here are some of the top tourist places to visit in Jaipur:

Amber Fort (Amer Fort): A magnificent fort located on a hilltop, known for its impressive architecture, stunning views, and intricate mirror work.

Hawa Mahal: Also known as the Palace of Winds, it is an iconic structure with a unique facade featuring numerous windows designed to allow royal ladies to observe street festivals while remaining unseen.

City Palace: A grand palace complex with a perfect blend of Rajput, Mughal, and European architectural styles. It houses museums showcasing artifacts and royal collections.

Jantar Mantar: A UNESCO World Heritage Site, it is an astronomical observatory built by Maharaja Jai Singh II in the 18th century, featuring various architectural instruments for measuring time, predicting eclipses, and tracking stars.

Jaigarh Fort: Situated on the Cheel ka Teela (Hill of Eagles), it is known for its massive cannon Jaivana, which is one of the largest cannons in the world.

Nahargarh Fort: Offering panoramic views of the Pink City, Nahargarh Fort is a historic fort built to protect the city.

Albert Hall Museum: Located in the heart of Jaipur, this museum houses an extensive collection of artifacts including paintings, sculptures, and decorative arts.

Jal Mahal: Situated amidst the Man Sagar Lake, this palace is an architectural marvel surrounded by the Aravalli hills, offering a picturesque view.

Galtaji (Monkey Temple): A temple complex with natural freshwater springs and pavilions, inhabited by a large colony of monkeys.

Chokhi Dhani: An ethnic village resort offering a glimpse into Rajasthani culture, featuring traditional performances, camel rides, and authentic Rajasthani cuisine.

These are just a few highlights of the many attractions Jaipur has to offer. The city is a treasure trove of history, culture, and architectural wonders, making it a must-visit destination for travelers.

[rjalker]

everyobe hates Merlin in this story. He's telling a story they all hate.

Haven't even read it yet just copied and pasted

“Right so the king and Merlin departed, and went until an hermit that was a good man and a great leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds and gave him good salves; so the king was there three days, and then were his wounds well amended that he might ride and go, and so departed. And as they rode, Arthur said, I have no sword. No force,* [*Footnote from M.T.: No matter.] said Merlin, hereby is a sword that shall be yours and I may. So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that held a fair sword in that hand. Lo, said Merlin, yonder is that sword that I spake of. With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake. What damsel is that? said Arthur. That is the Lady of the lake, said Merlin; and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as any on earth, and richly beseen, and this damsel will come to you anon, and then speak ye fair to her that she will give you that sword. Anon withal came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he her again. Damsel, said Arthur, what sword is that, that yonder the arm holdeth above the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword. Sir Arthur King, said the damsel, that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it. By my faith, said Arthur, I will give you what gift ye will ask. Well, said the damsel, go ye into yonder barge and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time. So Sir Arthur and Merlin alight, and tied their horses to two trees, and so they went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that the hand held, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it with him. And the arm and the hand went under the water; and so they came unto the land and rode forth. And then Sir Arthur saw a rich pavilion. What signifieth yonder pavilion? It is the knight’s pavilion, said Merlin, that ye fought with last, Sir Pellinore, but he is out, he is not there; he hath ado with a knight of yours, that hight Egglame, and they have fought together, but at the last Egglame fled, and else he had been dead, and he hath chased him even to Carlion, and we shall meet with him anon in the highway. That is well said, said Arthur, now have I a sword, now will I wage battle with him, and be avenged on him. Sir, ye shall not so, said Merlin, for the knight is weary of fighting and chasing, so that ye shall have no worship to have ado with him; also, he will not lightly be matched of one knight living; and therefore it is my counsel, let him pass, for he shall do you good service in short time, and his sons, after his days. Also ye shall see that day in short space ye shall be right glad to give him your sister to wed. When I see him, I will do as ye advise me, said Arthur. Then Sir Arthur looked on the sword, and liked it passing well. Whether liketh you better, said Merlin, the sword or the scabbard? Me liketh better the sword, said Arthur. Ye are more unwise, said Merlin, for the scabbard is worth ten of the sword, for while ye have the scabbard upon you ye shall never lose no blood, be ye never so sore wounded; therefore, keep well the scabbard always with you. So they rode into Carlion, and by the way they met with Sir Pellinore; but Merlin had done such a craft that Pellinore saw not Arthur, and he passed by without any words. I marvel, said Arthur, that the knight would not speak. Sir, said Merlin, he saw you not; for and he had seen you ye had not lightly departed. So they came unto Carlion, whereof his knights were passing glad. And when they heard of his adventures they marveled that he would jeopard his person so alone. But all men of worship said it was merry to be under such a chieftain that would put his person in adventure as other poor knights did.”

[earaercircular]

The Clothes Are Old. New Yorkers’ Love for Them Is Ageless.

The Manhattan Vintage Show featured Victorian-era diamonds, flapper dresses from the 1920s, motorcycle jackets from the 1990s and so much more.

By Dodai StewartPhotographs by Lanna Apisukh Oct. 26, 2023 Sofia Wallis held up a delicate lace garment, in awe of its history. “This is an original 1930s puff-sleeve wedding gown, and I have a photo of the original bride on her wedding day,” she said. “It’s from Texas. And I have the original box and where it was bought and everything.”

At 18, Ms. Wallis was the youngest vendor at the Manhattan Vintage Show[1], a three-day event held recently at the Metropolitan Pavilion in Chelsea, where vintage fashion enthusiasts gathered to socialize, shop and swoon over old clothes.

The aisles were lined with Victorian-era diamonds, flapper dresses from the 1920s, sculptural hats from the 1940s, minidresses from the 1960s, motorcycle jackets from the 1990s and so much more.

While many events in New York City are self-segregated by age — a party that attracts 20-somethings, a restaurant with a mature clientele — the Manhattan Vintage Show is a magnet for New Yorkers from various generations who indulge in fashion nostalgia. Three times a year, it draws young people attracted to sustainable shopping and unique pieces created before they were born and elders who lived through eras with fewer mass-produced styles.

Amy Abrams, who with her husband, Ronen Glimer, bought the 20-year-old show last year, has boosted their social media presence and invited new dealers, attracting new shoppers of all ages.

And at some sales booths, the vendors, too, were multigenerational.

Lucille Damone, who was born in the ’80s and loves “the psychedelic ’60s,” owns Galipette Vintage[2], which specializes in elegant statement pieces, and was working the booth with her mother, Donna Damone.

“She is not only style inspiration, but my shopping partner since day one,” Lucille said.

The elder Ms. Damone, who was born in Puerto Rico in the early ’50s and loves the aesthetic of the ’60s and ’70s, said that style was in their blood: “We’re from sort of a long line of fashion enthusiasts. My grandmother loved fashion. My mother loved fashion and I love fashion.”

Her daughter noted that enthusiasm alone is not enough — vintage clothes require care.

“There’s a lot of work that goes into getting them ready to be here on the floor today,” she said. “You’re mending, you’re cleaning; if you can, you’re dry cleaning. And I always try to bless each piece, too, to bring them forward to their new owner with good, clean energy.”

There was a different kind of intergenerational relationship at Lady V’s stall, Second Time Around.

Vivian Rodgers-Hill, Lady V herself, works with interns from the Fashion Institute of Technology, and they cycled in and out of her booth all weekend, selling brightly colored pieces from multiple eras.[3]

“Vintage is about legacy building, vintage is about sharing memories,” she said. “A young person will learn a lot of history about fashion here.”

Lady V, who was born in the late ’50s, is retired from her position as an assistant principal at a school in Queens. As an educator, she said, she values the multigenerational aspect of the vintage show. “I have an innate ability to teach,” she said, “so the young people just come easy to me.”

Around the corner, at Olive’s Very Vintage[4], was a mother-son team: Jen McCulloch, who was born in the ’60s and loves “a really great 1940s jacket,” and her son, Evan Miller, who was born in the year 2000, but admires the fabric quality and tailoring of suits from the ’50s.

Ms. McCulloch, who has been selling vintage clothing for 20 years, said that she had recently noticed a resurgence in interest.

“Vintage is so popular right now,” she said. “It’s very trendy and young people are really embracing it.”

Mr. Miller admitted that he didn’t always appreciate their unique finds: “Growing up, I’d be playing video games while my mom was thrift-shopping and stuff, and I’d just be so bored,” he said. “Over time, I definitely started to realize the beauty — and the history.”

Keesean Moore

The history is especially key for Keesean Moore, the proprietor of Moore Vintage Archive.[5]

Mr. Moore, who was born in the late ’80s, is “specifically obsessed” with Black designers of the ’80s and ’90s.

Mr. Moore searches for pieces by Stephen Burrows,[6] Patrick Kelly, Scott Barrie and Willi Smith. His mission, he says, includes educating shoppers about the contributions of Black designers.

“So much of this process is about preserving those stories and just letting people know, even if they’re not buying, we exist,” he said. “Not only do we exist, we existed in luxury spaces, we existed internationally,” he said.

Among those interested in more recent history was Tomide Moradeyo, who was born in the early ’90s, and is the curator of the Igala NYC[7], a curated collection of leather jackets, mostly from the ’80s and ’90s.

Mr. Moradeyo, who was wearing an Avirex jacket from 1986 (“You can just tell it’s high quality; the fading on it — it’s really faded nicely”), arrived in New York from Nigeria about five years ago and works as an engineer. He is interested in the positive global impact vintage clothing can have. “I like how it also helps the environment,” he said, calling it “technically recycling.”

Browsing the show were Jean and Valerie, style bloggers in their 70s who are known just by their first names, or as the Idiosyncratic Fashionistas, to their 54,000 Instagram followers.

The pair are always impeccably dressed, often in whimsical hats and bold eyeglasses. Both have been going to vintage shows for decades, and have seen a lot of change — including what counts as “vintage.”

Many of the younger shoppers said they were drawn to the high quality, unique pieces and “circular economy” aspects of vintage shopping.         

“There has been a shift,” said Jean, who was born in 1949 and loves garments from the ’40s. “Vintage was 1920s, ’30s, ’40s.” She pointed to her ensemble. “This is Norma Kamali from the ’80s. This is Moschino from the ’80s. It’s not vintage to me. Vintage is Bakelite,” she said, referring to the jewelry she collects, made from the brittle resin invented in 1909.

Jean gravitates toward items that are beautifully made. “I have no skills whatsoever. I can’t make anything,” she said. “So I support the people who do — and the people that can actually save these things, retain them and pass them on.”

Still, both welcome a new generation of vintage enthusiasts, and younger people often approach them with compliments. “It’s very fulfilling when people come up to us and say, I’m not afraid of getting old anymore,” said Valerie.

“I’ll tell you what I love more than anything else,” said Merle Weismer, 70, a friend of Jean and Valerie’s who tagged along to the show. “Gender fluidity. It’s so creative.”

And there, interviewing shoppers and vendors and creating content for social media, was David Ross Lawn, a bearded, gender fluid social media sensation who was born in the early ’90s and collects Gunne Sax dresses from the ’70s and ’80s. The beribboned and lace-adorned calico confections are a little bit Victorian, a little bit prairie, a little bit renaissance faire.

“I feel more myself when I wear these dresses,” he said.

Mr. Lawn, who has over 180,000 followers on Instagram and 500,000 on TikTok, often uses the tag “vintage style not vintage values” on his posts. “We don’t want to perpetuate ideas from the Edwardian era or any of the fatphobia and racism and gender inequalities and all of that,” from other decades, he said. “We want to be able to leave the house creatively and freely.”

His look captures the attention of even the most jaded New Yorkers. “On the subway, people will be like, ‘Are you going to a fancy dress costume party?’” he said. “And I’m like, ‘Yeah — it’s a Friday. What’s the special occasion? Being alive is a special occasion.’”

Source

Dodai Stewart, The Clothes Are Old. New Yorkers’ Love for Them Is Ageless., in: New York Times, 26-10-2023, https://www.nytimes.com/2023/10/26/nyregion/new-york-vintage-clothing-show.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare

[1] The Manhattan Vintage Show is New York’s iconic vintage experience—an inspiring celebration for everyone who sees vintage as the future of fashion. Discover and shop NYC’s largest collection of clothing, jewelry, accessories, and textiles. Three times a year, the Manhattan Vintage Show convenes 90+ dealers featuring collections from every era, style, and price point in a fun, festive environment. We welcome vintage enthusiasts and newcomers alike to discover their unique style and celebrate the joy of vintage for all. We provide phenomenal services and amenities to create an elevated vintage experience and promote vintage as an essential part of the circular fashion future. Manhattan Vintage Show is a member of the Shop Extraordinary Enterprises family. Founded by Amy Abrams and Ronen Glimer and headquartered in New York City, Shop Extraordinary creates retail experiences that bolster the courage of entrepreneurs, the spirit of creativity, and the power of human connection. Our portfolio includes Artists & Fleas, a retail showcase for makers and creators, and Regeneration, a marketplace of vintage, thrift, and upcycled fashion for the next-generation vintage shopper. https://www.manhattanvintage.com/about-manhattan-vintage-show

[2] https://www.instagram.com/galipettevintage/

[3] https://www.instagram.com/ladyv.sta/

[4] https://www.instagram.com/olives_very_vintage/

[5] https://moorevintage.com/

[6] https://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/21/fashion/a-stephen-burrows-retrospective.html

[7] https://www.instagram.com/theigalanyc/

[rajolaurel]

Ong Lo- Tepeng Wedding Wedding date: April 19, 2023 Wedding dress up: Hotel Edison NYC Venue: Ladies Pavilion in Central Park, Manhattan New York City Reception: Hutong NYC Bride:Dr. Sharon Ann T. Tepeng Groom: Mr. Winston T. Ong Lo Photographer: Marta Bezkorovayna of Perfect Wedding NYC