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bookofbonbon · 6 months ago

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ours is the hunt - daemon targaryen.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader.

Warnings: 18+ Cheating. Hunting. Death/Killing. Mentions of pregnancy/ending a pregnancy. This is kinda fucked up, read the summary. Probably major spelling and grammar mistakes. Tense/POV mix ups.

Summary: Based on a request from the lovely @holy-minseok. like how westerosi kings warn the people of the consequences if they move out of line, reader presents daemons mistress to him on a spike with her swollen belly as a final warning for his betrayals.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: This took on a life of its own and didn't play out exactly as the request but, hopefully it's still enjoyable (well... as enjoyable as it can be). Italics section is a flashback.

The Kingswood is eerily silent in the minutes before sunrise. The party, like many of the woodland creatures, still slept, peaceful in their oblivion as servants moved quietly around the camp to prepare for the rush that daybreak would bring. You take a deep breath, the crisp forest air a welcome change from that of the stench of King’s Landing; the smell of the previous afternoon’s rain also lingers but it would dry with the promise of good weather and a bright sun.

“My Lady,” Ser Eadric Qyle calls, your most loyal, your sworn sword. “Everything is prepared to your instruction.”

“How many?”

“Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.”

The snap of a twig, a slight breeze, the distant wail of a wounded animal and the flutter of wings as the early morning bird sings its song as it flies across the waking sky. The forest whispers your name and you answer its call.

“Let the hunt begin.”

Your horse slows to a trot and eventually, to a stop as you approach the camp; an accompanying stablehand taking hold of the reins as a stool is brought to aid your dismount.

“I had wondered where my wife had gone,” Daemon’s voice comes from beside you with a hand held out. “I should have known to check the woods.”

Your smile is wide, eyes lighting up at his presence as you take his hand and dismount. He is still dressed in his sleeping robes, the Targaryen Prince having obviously just woken not long ago. The thought that he immediately came to seek you out upon waking endears you.

Steadying yourself with a hand on Daemon’s shoulder, you find your balance and firmly plant your feet on the stool; with the added height you find yourself at eye-level with him and greet him with a kiss to the side of his head.

“Good morrow, my love.”

Daemon returns the greeting by leaning into you with a groan, head dropping into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his arms wrapping around you.

“Remind me again why we must be here at this bloody thing?”

You wrap an arm around his shoulder, hand soothing his back.

“You cannot get out of this, Daemon,” you tell him with a small laugh.

Daemon groans again, his breath hot against your neck as he attempts to burrow his face deeper, grumbling all the while. He doesn’t get far however, when you thread your fingers through his unruly hair and pull.

“What was that, my love?”

“When you said you arranged a hunt for my name day, I thought it would be just us. Not a whole fucking camp for a Royal Hunt.”

While Daemon was content to revel in celebrations of his victory, a Royal Hunt and a Royal Tourney were two entirely different things. Besides, he could think of much better things to do on his name day and he makes it known, allowing you to hold his head in place, a familiar glint in his eyes that you force yourself to ignore.

“Did you really think your Lord-King brother would allow that? You have him to thank for-” you release his hair to gesture at the several tents. “-this.”

“Hm. How generous of him.”

You hum in agreement, adjusting the top of his robes.

“Very but, worry not, my love. Despite reports of only one stag, Ser Eadric and I managed to gain the trail of one other.”

A grin pulls at the corner of Daemon’s lips.

“The Royal Hunt will track one stag and we will hunt the other,” you finish. Using your grip on his robes to pull him closer, you brush your nose against his, before pressing your lips to his for a brief moment. He tries to deepen the kiss but you don’t allow him.

“Now, come,” you step down from the stool, taking his hand in yours. “Let's get you ready for the day.”

“Very well,” Daemon agrees, pressing a kiss to your hand with a charming smile.

You return the smile before turning and leading him back to the centre of the camp with a tight jaw.

Daemon’s mood lightens considerably thereafter. The Rogue Prince noticeably happier after you broke the news that the two of you would separate from the Royal Hunt because while Daemon loved to hunt, he hated not being the one to actually do it. He didn’t need someone else to track down the game just for him to land the final blow in some false display of strength and authority. He could do it himself. He wanted to do it himself. He liked to do it himself. And though his mood had lightened, you noted that it didn’t stop his eyes from wandering around in search of someone else.

By mid-morning, the camp is teeming with life, the several Lords and Ladies of Westeros who gathered in celebration of Daemon’s name day dotted all over the grounds and inside tents. You yourself enter the main tent with Ser Eadric, the grand structure larger than that of most of the homes of the smallfolk.

You don’t have to look far to find Daemon, Viserys’ great laugh leading you right to him; the two brother’s seated beside one another at a long table surrounded by other lords.

Turning to Eadric, you place a cloth in his hand. “Release the last stag and give this to the bloodhound,” you instruct. He nods, taking it in hand and departing.

Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders back to loosen them, a delightful smile gracing your lips as you approach Daemon and Viserys. Daemon immediately reaches out for you out of habit once you're seated, and you cradle his strong hand between your own.

“Ah my Lady,” Viserys greets you and you, him, with a bow of your head.

“Your Grace.”

“I have been meaning to offer you both my condolences following the death of your brother and my congratulations, I hear you have been named heir of Blood's End.”

You tighten your grip around Daemon’s hand then loosen it, both hands releasing his as you begin instead to fidget with your own fingers. Daemon notices immediately, taking hold of one of your hands in his, his grip firm in silent comfort as he sends you a reassuring look.

“A regrettable hunting accident,” you pull at the collar of your riding jacket. “But, please, accept my thanks for your congratulations, Your Grace. It is an honour and I can only hope to be half the ruler my Lord-father is of Blood's End.”

“Well, I cannot say what type of ruler you will be but, from what I heard you are double the hunter of that of what your brothers were and rival even that of your father-”

“Better,” Daemon interrupts proudly with a squeeze of your hand.

“Better?” Viserys’ repeats in amusement.

You breathe a laugh at Daemon’s antics, “I am able to hold my own somewhat.”

Daemon scoffs at your downplay of your skill, “my wife is humble, brother but, I am not. She is the better between her and her father. Perhaps one of the best in all the land.”

You make a show of balking at the declaration, forcing a meek laugh “I- that is not-”

But, Viserys’ cuts you off, holding one hand up in surrender, “if Daemon says you are one of the best then I believe him. I mean what good is it if House Chase’ words are ‘Ours is the Hunt’ if they cannot do exactly that?”

Viserys’ laughs heartily at his own joke and you spare a glance at Daemon who grins at you playfully.

The conversation teeters off soon after that as Daemon and Viserys’ listen to the report sent by the Royal Huntsman. You in turn, turn your attention to one of your Ladies-in-waiting, Lady Millicent. While the custom of having Ladies-in-waiting was unusual outside of the Great Houses, the custom was needed within your own House as it was in fact greater than even that of your liege lords, House Baratheon. House Chase commanded both a larger army and fertile lands that weren’t felled by the terrible weather that surrounded Storm’s End. House Chase was second to Baratheon in rank only.

“My Lady, I’ve been meaning to ask but, where is Lady Gwendolyn? I’ve not seen her around the camp all morning, I fear-”

“Yes,” Daemon interrupts abruptly. “Where is Lady Gwendolyn?”

You delight at the question, ears burning as you turn your attention to Daemon about your newest Lady-of-waiting of six, maybe seven months.

“I did not know you had such a keen interest in my ladies of waiting. Husband.”

“My only interest is that she attends to my grooming every morning and yet, when I needed her this morning, she was nowhere to be found.”

Daemon shrugs the question off with a practiced ease while your lips almost pull dangerously downwards, mask hanging by a thread and nearly slipping completely at the brazen statement. Instead you fix your smile, reaching across to smooth the neck of his hunting attire.

“I have given Lady Gwendolyn leave while we are here, she is likely with her kin in the woods.”

A dull light permeates from the lantern in your hand, bathing its immediate surroundings - including yourself - in a warm glow as you carefully navigate the unfamiliar bed chambers that your husband had come to frequent as of late. Shadows bouncing off of the walls, the silhouettes of the two figures in the bed become clearer the closer you get.

See, you weren’t naive to the ways of men and their crude sexual appetites; the way they would seek out other women when their wives could not sate them.

‘It is the way of men, he will have his whores and his playthings but you are his wife and no whore can take away from you.’ is what your mother had told you but, you would not heed her words. You would not lay down while your husband took mistresses and whores alike and you had told him so, warning him once of the consequences.

Placing the lantern down on the bedside table, you peer down at the Baratheon beauty laid in the bed with your husband; a few drops of milk of the poppy in their goblets and it was keeping both husband and whore sedated.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight as you settle yourself beside her sleeping figure, hip to hip as you take a closer look at your Lady-in-waiting, who had also taken up position as Daemon’s mistress, stealing both his time and attention from you.

Lady Gwendolyn of House Baratheon, the niece of a cousin of a second son nobody; a distant relative carrying the Great name of the Great Stags of the Stormlands.

“Ser Eadric,” you call on your sworn sword; fingers ghosting over her abdomen. The swell is slight but it is there. “Our Prince’s name day is fast approaching. Ensure arrangements have begun at first light. We will celebrate like none before.”

The sun sits at its peak in the sky, streams of its light filtering through the tops of the forest's trees. The crossbow is heavy in Daemon’s hands as he sits astride his horse, sweat gathering on his forehead as he watches his surroundings; the reins of your own horse in his other hand. He had led the first few hours, and now you had taken over.

As planned, the two of you went out with the Royal Hunt and eventually broke off under the guise of returning to the camp.

Daemon’s ears perk at the sound of a nearby wail and the flutter of several wings as a group of birds seem to scatter. Dismounting, Daemon joins you on the ground, coming to stand behind you as he scans the woods for any signs of danger. There is no danger however, just your blood hound.

Daemon moves past you and calls the hound to heel at his side.

“We’re close,” you toss the hours old droppings back onto the ground and pick up your own crossbow. “These droppings are fresh.”

“Very close.” Daemon calls you over to where the bloodhound sits obediently by his feet. There is blood around its jowl. A thrill goes down your spine at the sight, knowing that the two of you were close now.

“We go on foot from here,” he declares, trying the reins of your horses to a nearby tree and you agree.

Moving silently ahead through the Kingswood, what was once vibrating with life, has now come to standstill with your approach. All the woodland creatures recognising the two predators hunting in their territory.

Your eyes flitter from the ground to up ahead as you follow the Stag’s tracks, Daemon trailing behind you and then- the sudden trample of hooves to the left of you and a blur of brown and then silence.

“Daemon,” you whisper and nod up ahead.

There in the distance stands the Great Stag the two of you had been hunting for the better part of four hours, its mammoth antlers moving frantically as it turned its head over and over.

Daemon places a hand on the small of your back and you turn your head toward him.

“From here?” you ask and he nods, stepping carefully in front of you.

The Stag stumbles around clumsily, which Daemon can only assume is from when the bloodhound must’ve sunk its teeth into it but it otherwise remains in the same area, believing itself to be safe.

“Let us test out the might of these crossbows from here,” Daemon croons quietly. The armourer had declared it the single most powerful crossbow, capable of bringing down the greatest creatures from an even greater distance.

Positioning himself, Daemon presses his body against yours, your hand touching his collar before you slide it down and place it on his waist. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of both of your breaths as you watched over his shoulder. He lines up the shot, finger on the trigger, your breaths in harmonious sync, his back against your chest as your hearts beat as one. You slide a hand underneath his arm, steadying his hold and with a kiss to his shoulder blade, he pulls.

Thwack!

The recoil is slight as the sound reverberates with a sickening crunch. The Stag cries out but, before it can make a move to run, you’re passing Daemon your own crossbow and he sends another arrow straight through its neck with perfect precision.

There’s a beat of silence as the entire woods including yourselves come to a halt, your breaths the only sound that could be heard. It’s soon broken however, by your laughter, the sound building into something hysterical as you step away from Daemon. Catching Daemon’s attention, he turns to you, initially in concern, it doesn’t take long however for him to join you when he sees how delighted you are. Catching you by the back of your neck, Daemon pulls you into him, his mouth covering yours in a searing kiss which you happily return.

“Shall we claim our prize?” you break the kiss, foreheads pressed together.

Daemon nods, taking your hand into his and eagerly leading the way.

You hum happily beneath your breath, keeping a keen eye on him as the two of you get closer, watching and waiting, watching and waiting until finally- there’s a catch in his breath, footsteps faltering as his head tilts, bemused. You feel the way his hand twitches in your hold, grip loosening as he glances back at you, confused until- a sharp intake of breath and the realisation of not, what he has killed but, who.

You slip your hand from his hold as he chokes on a gasp at the sight of his mistress, his whore, the Lady Gwendolyn. She is covered in a layer of mud, her usual gown replaced with a dirty and ripped tunic and pants, a strip of cloth tied around her mouth and gagging her. One arrow shot through her chest, nailing her to the tree behind her and the second through her neck; on the floor beside her lies the head of a stag.

Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.

“What is this?” Daemon speaks in abject horror.

“The last one,” you tell him grimly.

Daemon continues to stare at Gwendolyn, dazed and not understanding what was happening as he watches blood drip from her wounds and onto her swelling belly.

“What have you done?”

“What have I done? What have you done?” you tut, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Do not fret, I granted her this small mercy, my last mercy,” you inform him, hand adjusting his collar. “A quick and clean death.”

Your words seems to bring him back to himself, horror and confusion short lived and replaced with a fury you had never seen before. It does naught to frighten you though.

“She was with child,” he turns on you, jaw impossibly tight as he spits the words at you; crowding you against a tree. “My child.”

“I know,” you tell him softly with a nod.

Your placidness unsettles him. You can see it in his eyes and the way he flinches at your touch when you brush his hair back from either side of his face.

“So heed this as my final warning for your betrayals. I won’t be so nice if there’s another one.”

Steadying yourself with a hand on his arm, you reach up and press a kiss to the side of his head, “happy name day, Daemon.”

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #hotd fanfic #matt smith x reader #matt smith fanfiction

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aemondapologistfrfr · 9 days ago

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Anything for You - Pt3

daemon x daughter!reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The King and the Hand come up with a plan to get you and Daemon to come back to court. Daemon is barely able to contain himself when he lands on the docks of King’s Landing.

Warnings: 18+ different PoVs bc i was feeling it, swearing, pregnant!reader this chap, coercion into like kidnapping?, the rogue prince fr, death(not mc), blood, swords, threats, p in v

Authors Note: idk why i locked in writing this like i planned to keep it cutesy and i was like wait 🤭 short hair daemon in his armor 🙂‍↕️ i never intended for this to be more than a one shot but here we are 😶 literally stopped writing my other stuff and was sat

Word Count: 3.8k

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King and Hand PoV

The King and the Hand sit in the empty council chamber trying to figure out the best course of action. Daemon and his daughter have been gone for almost three moons now and the Keep is starting to speculate. There’s been no word from Dragonstone which could either be good or bad. Whispers around the realm speak nothing of the two, leaving the King at a loss. The King looks at the Hand waiting for his next idea on how to get at least the Princess back to court.

The King has put in his best efforts to push back the prying Lords who were vying for the Princess’s hand. They come around the council chambers and throne room like vultures awaiting her return. The Queen tells the King daily what she overhears from the Ladies and her handmaidens and it’s been causing his temper to rise.

“Even the Queen is being questioned about their location.” the King sits back exasperated. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do.” he looks at his Hand.

“I will send out our best men to sail to Dragonstone. If they find the Princess they’ll bring her back to us.” the Hand pulls a blank piece of parchment in front of him. They spend the next couple of hours picking the company to send and decide on having her guard lead them. They hope she’ll take kinder to him and return with the men. The Hand has the King write a note to place in the Princess’s absence for Daemon.

“If she’s there and we can get her,” the King shakes his head. “Daemon will not take this lightly.” he looks to his Hand with worried eyes. “Might it be best if we just leave them?” the Hand scoffs.

“He directly disobeyed your commands. As he does time and time again. You are the King. If you can not control your own brother the realm will begin to see you as weak.” the Hand tries not to let his annoyance show. “The Princess’s hand can garner us alliances, armies. My King, it’s never my wish to speak so poorly about Daemon-“

“Yet you never seize the opportunity to do so.” the King shakes his head leaning back in his chair.

“He’s undermining you. He knows he’ll keep getting away with it.” the Hand searches the King's eyes. “I urge you to send these men out at daybreak.” the King exhales at the Hands plea.

“Fine. See to it then.” the King waves him off. “Pray to the Gods Daemon will see reason.” the King looks to the ceiling as the Hand goes to make the preparations.

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Your PoV

I always heard stories of how the mornings were unpleasant when carrying a babe but I’ve never felt more at peace. The maesters here say I am the most relaxed princess they’ve had the pleasure of helping with her pregnancy. I know my father is the one to thank for that. He absolutely worships me morning, noon, and night. The moment my eyes open he’s pressing his lips across every inch of my body whispering sweet words. He stays attached to me until I plead him for a break.

“I’ll go fetch your handmaidens to bathe you and get you ready for your garden walk.” he presses his lips against my brow before slipping out of our chambers.

I’ve quickly grown fond of my new company of handmaidens here. They dote on me and have a gentler touch than the ladies I left behind in King's Landing. They pour milk and flowers into my bath and keep their hands on me until I’m resting against the back of the tub. After they bathe and lather me in oils and perfumes they pull a flowing dress over my head and help escort me down to the gardens.

I quite like being on Dragonstone again. I forgot how quiet and peaceful it is. The low grumbles and songs of the dragons bring me such a sense of comfort and I feel truly calm and at home here. I don’t need guards hovering around me and I can walk in the gardens at my leisure. I let the leaves and petals brush against my fingertips. I stop and bend down to smell the lilies that wash over my senses.

I delve deeper into the gardens and smile when I approach my bench. It sits near the edge of the gardens and overlooks the Blackwater. I lean back and pull my feet under me as I watch the waves lap against the shore. I tilt my head back and shut my eyes to allow the sun to kiss my skin. Its warmth engulfs me and a smile starts to spread across my face when I hear approaching footsteps.

“I was wondering if you were going to join me today.” I hum turning. My face falls as I see my guard from King's Landing. “What are you doing here?” I tilt my head.

“Hello, Princess.” he bows his head before clearing his throat. “Your father wanted to surprise you with a ship to bring you back to King's Landing. If you’ll follow me.” he outstretches his hand and I look at it.

“Where is my father? Why wouldn’t he just fly me back on Caraxes?” my brows furrow.

“He has a couple more things to finish up here and then he will join us.” he nods his head. I study him curiously but I can’t find a reason not to trust him. He’s protected me my whole life, surely he wouldn’t cause me any harm.

“Okay.” I rise and grab his arm. He sets a piece of parchment on the bench and begins to lead me back through the gardens. “Why are we taking this way?” I look up at my guard and he keeps hauling me down the back steps.

“It’s much faster this way.” his words seem rushed but I shrug this off.

As we make it to the dock I see a couple other men I recognize waiting for us on the boat. Once I’m on board the boat begins to move back out into the Blackwater. I watch as we move away from Dragonstone and take a seat on the bench watching it become smaller and smaller. I watch as some of the men on the ship clap my guards back and offer him hushed words of congratulations.

“When will my father join me in King's Landing?” I look at the man closest to me. He ignores me and goes over to the cluster of men causing a frown to form on my face. My chest tightens and I begin to feel alone and foolish for not going to my father first. A tear slips down my cheek at the same moment I hear Caraxes roar ripple across the Bay.

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Daemons PoV

Daemon had been waiting for his Princess to return for well over thirty minutes now. He knows how she likes her time in the gardens so he didn’t think anything of it at first. He enjoys seeing her so peaceful here so he doesn’t pay it any mind. When an hour goes by he rises from his seat and starts into the gardens.

He strolls through them silently admiring and keeping an eye out for his wife. He tries to listen and see if he can catch her humming but all he can hear is the breeze through the leaves. When he doesn’t spot her on the main path he starts in the direction of her bench. He curses himself for not starting there but when he approaches he finds it empty. He looks across the Bay before going to turn back to the castle until he spots a piece of parchment. He lifts it and begins to read.

Brother-

It is not my wish to anger you or fight with you. You are both wanted and needed back at court. The Hand and I have sent her guard and a group of men to sail her back to King's Landing. We have many potential suitors for her that can look past how you’ve sullied her. I have called some Ladies to court as well to hopefully satiate your appetite. I wish to see you come home.

-The King, Your Brother

Daemon growls, crumpling the note and throwing it in the Blackwater. He curses loudly off the edge of the cliff and Caraxes deafening answering roar comes from out of the pits. He runs back to the castle and makes his way to the doors that lead to the docks. He rips them open and sees the guard standing just on the other side. He slams his fist into his face and his vision goes red as he continues to pummel the guard in front of him.

“My Prince,” the guard gurgles. Daemon slams him onto the stone.

“You’ve let my wife be taken from right under your nose.” Daemon repeatedly hits him as the guards movements begin to lull.

“My Prince, a moment,” guards from inside the castle try to stop him. The last blow lands with a crunch and the sentry goes limp on the stone.

“Clean this up and wash the stone.” Daemon barks out before storming back into the castle.

He takes two steps at a time and pushes his way into their chambers. He grabs Dark Sister from the solar and makes his way down to the pits. He quickly puts his armor on and places his helm before walking out on the platform as Caraxes approaches. Daemon grabs onto Caraxes snout and looks him in the eyes.

“We are getting her back.” Caraxes blinks at him and Daemon takes to his mount.

Caraxes drops them off the edge before shooting them forward. Daemon stays on high alert looking for the ship that is carrying his wife. The breeze carries them quicker and Caraxes turns his snout slightly and pushes on with purpose. Soon they’re circling above the ship and Caraxes serenades them with his song. Daemon watches as the sails sway and has Caraxes fly higher. He wishes to land on the boat and claim his wife once more and end this farce but he doesn’t know if the ship will maintain its integrity under Caraxes and he won’t risk his wife and their child.

He curses under his breath and tugs Caraxes in the direction of the docks at Kings Landing. Caraxes circles above the city grumbling and lets his tail trail across the roofs. He makes his way back over to the docks and sees the ship approaching. Caraxes heeds the command to land at the docks and the common folk who don’t move out of the way quick enough forfeit their lives to the rogue Prince and his dragon. Horses and guards break through the crowds and the Hand comes into view. Daemon stays atop his dragon as he looks down upon the man.

“The King commands you to stop this.” Daemon laughs at the Hand's words.

“I do not see the King.” Caraxes tail whips closely to the Hands feet. He turns as the boat begins to dock and the men aboard look to the Hand nervously. “Surely, you knew I would come.” Daemon drawls. He starts to slide off the side of Caraxes and lands to the ground with a thud. He unsheathes his sword and points it at the Hand. “You would take a pregnant wife from her husband? Steal her away and marry her to another?” he tilts his head, stalking over to him. “And be daft enough to think there would be no consequences?” he laughs, pushing the tip of his blade into the Hands chest.

“If you kill me here the King will never forgive you.” Daemon clenches his jaw knowing that the Hand is right in this matter.

Caraxes pushes the Hand back with his tail and he tumbles to the ground. Daemon turns and stalks over to the ship to retrieve his wife. His brother would be unforgiving if he took his Hand but for the men who took his wife? He could find ten more of them on the street. As he approaches the boat he calls out for his wife and she comes forward with red cheeks. He sees the tears staining her perfect face and how puffy her eyes are. It’s going to take all of his resolve not to burn down the entirety of the Red Keep.

“Come here, sweet girl.” he hums and she walks up to him and folds into his arms. He rubs her back as he feels her sobs rack through her. Every sniffle has him seeing a darker shade of red. He pulls back and cups her cheeks. “Did these men cause you any harm?” he searches her eyes.

“No. Only taking me from you and my gardens.” her voice is soft and his nostrils flare as her tears continue to flow. His hand rests on her stomach before he kisses her brow.

“Go to Caraxes. Hug his neck and don’t look behind you.” she nods her head and he watches as she wraps her arms around his dragon. He takes one step onto the ship and the guards have their swords out in a blink of an eye. Daemon lets the rage take over him and pour out through Dark Sister. As the men continue to surround him he smiles as he slashes and slices through them. He nods at the last man standing who looks at him with a heaving chest.

“My Prince, I was only-“ his head falls to the wooden floor.

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Your Pov

I jump as I feel a gloved hand wrap around my arm. I turn around and look up and see my father. My tears start anew and I cling against him. He holds me tightly and presses his lips to the top of my head. He unwraps me from his embrace and helps me mount Caraxes. He wraps a hand around me and holds tightly to the reins and shots us into the skies. My stomach drops as we approach the Red Keep and he begins our descent inside the inner courtyard.

As we make our way down we see people scrambling to get out of Caraxes path and once they see my father step foot on the ground they run even faster. I hold onto my fathers arm and he begins to walk us into the Keep. He wastes no time taking us to the throne room and upon entering I see the King sitting with a frown. My father takes his helm off and lets it drop to the floor with a thud.

“How dare you take my pregnant wife from me.” I watch as my father stalks toward the King. I shuffle quickly up to his side not wanting to be away from him.

“Enough of this Daemon. I am tired of the cease-“

“Your Grace,” the Hand bursts through the doors, panting with a dozen guards on his heel. The King dismisses the guards and the Hand composes himself before taking his place next to the King. “He’s killed countless men today on the docks.” the King looks at his Hand with raised brows.

“What did you expect? You truly thought he would allow this? Did I not warn you yesterday?” the King glares at the Hand.

“I urge you to punish him.” my father lets a laugh slip out.

“My wife and I will be returning to Dragonstone. Where we will remain for the rest of her pregnancy, unbothered. If you send anyone else to try and take my wife I will send you what is left of them.” his words are laced with promise and the King continues to stare at us.

“You cannot possibly be considering allowing this.” the Hand looks at the King, taken aback.

“If we would’ve left them, none of today's events would have occurred. She’s with child. You planned to marry her to some Lord but her babe will come out with silver hair. What else would you have me do?” The King looks to his Hand exasperated.

“You are the King. It is your choice.” the Hand looks forward blankly.

“And you are my Hand, my council.” the Kings voice rises.

“Mm, this seems as if it’s a personal dispute.” my father hums. “We’re leaving.” he dips down to grab his helm while his other hand encases mine and we begin to exit the throne room.

“I wish to pack a bag. I want some of my dresses and jewelry.” I whisper up to my father.

“Of course, sweet girl.” he smiles down at me and leads me up my chambers.

He seals us into my chambers and I walk over to my wardrobe. I turn and give a slight jump as my father is standing there with a bag. I look up to him and slowly take the bag out of his hands. I continue to look up at him and nibble my lip. His cheeks are still lightly flushed and his hair is askew from his helm.

“What’s wrong?” he tilts his head with a scrunched brow.

“I think you look handsome in your armor.” I mumur.

“Is that so?” he chuckles, caressing my cheek.

“Very handsome, my husband.” I nod my head as his eyes darken at my words.

“Mm, I quite like that title for me on your tongue.” he pulls me closer. “My little wife.” he presses his lips against mine and I melt into his touch.

“Thank you for saving me.” I mumble against his lips. His back straightens as if he just remembered today's events and ushers me back over to my wardrobe.

“I will always come for you.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck. “Pack your bag so I can take you home.” I quickly pull down a couple gowns and toss them into the bag before doing the same with most of my vanity.

My father leads us through Keep and the guards step back in his presence. We find Caraxes snapping his jaws as the guards who are brave enough to stay in their stations outside. He dips his wing down and once we’re settled into the saddle he carries us into the skies. My fathers hands are wrapped tightly around me the entire flight back.

ᓚᘏᗢ

I wake in the middle of the night to the hearth still breathing warmth into our chambers. My father has his arms wrapped tightly around me and his breath is tickling the back of my neck. I squirm in his arms and his response is to pull me closer. He presses his nose against my nape and presses his lips against it a moment later.

“Go back to bed.” his voice is thick with sleep.

“I want some water.” I trail my fingertips across his arm.

He slowly unwraps his arms from me and walks over to the table. I admire his nude form in the firelight and watch as his muscles flex as he walks back over to me. I reach up for the cup but he shakes his head and brings it to my lips. I take a couple sips and he sets the cup on the bedside table. I reach out and press my palm against his torso. I trace my fingers over the defined lines and he steps closer.

“I was scared today.” I whisper looking up at him.

“Of what, sweet girl?” he looks down at me tenderly.

“That they were going to take me from you.” my eyes start to fill with tears. “That they’d make me marry someone else and take my babe from me.” my voice breaks as I start to cry.

“I will never let that happen.” his brows furrow and I reach out and pull him closer. “You’re safe. No one is taking our babe. You’re mine and only mine.” he crawls back into bed with me and I tug at his arm until he’s hovering over me.

“I don’t get why they can’t just let us be.” I sniffle as tears continue to fall down my face.

“They will after this if they’re smart.” he presses his lips to my forehead. “If they try again, I’ll burn the whole fucking city down for you.” he whispers against my brow.

“I need you, daddy.” I wrap my arms around his neck. He lets out a soft chuckle before placing his lips on mine. His hand travels between my thighs and I spread them waiting for his touch. His fingers slide up my slit and I writhe beneath him. “Please,” I wrap my fingers around his length and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. I guide him to my core as he swirls around my bud. I arch up as he slowly pushes into me.

“Gods, you’re such a good girl.” he slowly rocks into me as I gasp into his neck. With every roll of his hips he pulls whimpers from my mouth. His hands rest on either side of my head as our lips mash together. He pats my thigh and I wrap them around his waist and he groans into my mouth. He kisses down my jaw and makes his way to my neck to suckle and bite.

“Daemon,” I breathe out his name and his hips snap into mine.

“Sat it again, sweet girl.” he purrs in my ear, rolling his hips.

“Daemon, please,” I gasp as his hips begin to fall into mine faster. I rock against him as my pleasure begins to coil quickly. He bites down onto my shoulder and I dig into his. “Daddy,” my toes curl as I fall apart around him. He groans into my neck spilling his pleasure into me.

His lips find mine and we continue to cling to one another. He pulls out of me and pulls me back against his chest. His arms wrap around me and one of his hand splays across my stomach. He peppers kisses across my shoulder blades while slowly tracking patterns onto my stomach.

“I love you so much. I will never let another day like today happen. I promise you this.” his arms tighten around me at his declaration.

“I love you. Thank you.” I scoot back into his chest and hold his arms around me.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

and if i say we’re having three more parts of this and two of them are already done - one of them being a prequel to part 1 🫣😏

Part 4

taglist ✍️

anything for you tags: @mamawiggers1980

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004

#prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd daemon #daemon smut #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #x reader #x reader smut #x reader fic

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wheeboo · 1 year ago

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venus | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which the love between you and the prince is forbidden. PAIRING. prince!choi seungcheol x servant-commoner!reader (ft. servant-commoner!chan very briefly) GENRE. fluff, angst with a hopeful ending?, forbidden love, royalty au, arranged marriage au (cheol is in an arranged marriage), established secret relationship WARNINGS. cheol and reader both have a lil argument, terms of endearment (darling, love, sweetheart), kissing WORD COUNT. 3.8k

note: fic is vaguely inspired by the bridge part of this song called "venus" by regina song 🫶💕 this is also my first time writing a royalty au, so i hope you enjoy! this also features the very iconic "you came" "you called" line 😭

The ballroom of Pledis Palace is charged with an air of enchantment. The time had just reached the peak of evening. Moonlight filters through the large, grand windows, bathing the open room in an ethereal glow. Along the sides of the ballroom are intricately carved golden marble columns, each one painted with a different tale of the kingdom's past.

In the middle of the ceiling sits a majestic chandelier hanging from a massive, golden chain. The piece is the crown jewel of the ballroom, one that easily draws visitors into all its glory and beauty, and it casts a radiant gleam that seemed to rain down like stardust upon the guests below.

The dance floor reflects the light from the chandelier, creating an illusion of stars twinkling at one's feet. You watch all the elegantly-dressed guests move with grace across the room. The women are all dressed with precise attention to detail, their gowns and jewelry like works of art on a canvas. Some wear dresses in shades of amethyst, emerald, and sapphire, embroidered with beautiful beadwork that glistens like constellations, while others prefer flowing gowns in delicate pastels, as if they've stepped out of a fairytale.

They all hold onto their partners𑁋lavish gentlemen dressed in sophistically tailored suits matching the colours of their ladies' gowns𑁋with utmost love and enjoyment, while you find yourself standing at the side, holding up a tray of drinks as a particular heaviness settles in your chest.

And as your eyes drift ever so slightly, you swear that regardless what direction you look in, he's always there at the end of it, like a light at the end of the tunnel. Yet the light this time was dim and lacked almost all the hope that used to be there when you looked at him.

Not only is the royal family of Pledis here, but also a second one. The Choi royal family of Pledis, and of course, the future in-laws.

Prince Choi Seungcheol is dancing with poise that appeared almost effortless, eyes locked in a tender gaze to his future betrothed, yet the smile to his face doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's the same kind of gaze during the times he would be with you, like in the secret corners of the royal garden that only the two of you knew, or in the times you both snuck out of the castle at the wee hours of the night to stargaze, or the intimate nights you spent with him in his quarters where you had to leave just before daybreak.

It's those times where the certain line between nobility and commoner could be momentarily blurred. It's those times where you both truly felt free in more ways than one.

As you continue to watch the dance and see the way he twirls his betrothed with ease, the world seems to blur, and it felt as if it was just you and Seungcheol in this grand ballroom. His eyes, so familiar yet so distant, meet yours in a fleeting moment. His face falls instantly.

The world and time may have pulled you apart, but in that stolen glance, you were brought back together. In your eyes, you saw the prince who had defied tradition and chosen to be with you without boundaries. In his eyes, he saw the commoner who had been his confidant and, more importantly, his secret love.

"Why are you just standing there? Go tend to your duties," the steward advises you annoyedly, snapping you out of your focus. With a start, you fix your posture, offering a quick nod of understanding to the stern-faced steward.

Hastily, you resume your duty, walking through the large crowd, presenting the tray of drinks and feeling their odd looks linger on you as you move past them. They're taunting you, not with words, but with their subtle, condescending glances. The weight in your chest only deepens with each step you take.

You reach the outskirts of the dance floor, casting another glance towards Seungcheol. His elegant moves and the seemingly affectionate way he held his betrothed gives a bittersweet feeling to your chest, and you can't help but briefly imagine yourself there with him instead𑁋being the one at the end of his smile, the end of his touch.

As the music swelled, the dance finally comes to an end. You watch as the prince gracefully leads his betrothed back to her seat, a warm smile on his face. You know he didn't have much of a choice. He had an obligation to the kingdom, to his family, and to the future over the love he had once whispered to you in the hidden corners of the royal gardens.

Your heart aches again, but you understand. You couldn't be a part of his world, no matter how much he cared for you.

You don't catch the way his eyes follow you once you dismiss yourself out of the ballroom, struggling to hold your tears back.

"Y/N, don't you think you overwatered this area right here?" Chan, a fellow gardener for the royal garden and closest friend, taps lightly on your shoulder, startling you out of your daze and nearly the watering can in your hands. You blink rapidly, bringing yourself back to the present.

All you manage is a weak smile, some embarrassment and guilt flooding your senses. "Sorry, I... I guess my mind was elsewhere."

He gives you a knowing look, gaze sympathetic yet encouraging. "It's okay. I know things haven't been the best recently." He gestures toward the grand castle behind you, its towers standing tall and proud. You know exactly what he's talking about, and it makes you let out a sigh, facing back towards the garden in front of you.

You've poured your heart into the royal garden for so long, finding comfort in its quiet beauty and the therapeutic rhythm of tending to its blooms from day to night.

As the sun dips below the horizon and the moon begins to rise, the garden transforms into a world of magic. The abundance of flowers surrounding you seem to glow vibrantly under the moonlight, and their scent becomes more rich in the cool night air. The air carries a gentle breeze, and the soft rustle of leaves soothes your troubled mind.

There was just something about simply being with nature𑁋in the royal garden and with the beauty that exists outside its walls𑁋that allows you to breathe more freely. Sometimes, you swear that even the flowers are capable of whispering words of their own, as if sharing stories with you alone, or stories that you used to listen to with one particular man.

Just as you're about to finish watering one last final section, you hear Chan's distant voice from afar.

"Y-Your Highness! What brings you here at this hour?"

You freeze in place, the almost-empty watering can slipping from your fingers as you turn around.

Prince Seungcheol stands at the edge of the garden, his gracious figure silhouetted against the moonlit scenery. He's dressed in his nighttime attire, a pair of simple yet elegant black trousers and a crisp white shirt that flows slightly in the cool breeze. His gaze flickers between you and Chan, a hint of curiosity in his expression, and the two of you both offer a respectful bow in his direction as he approaches.

"I just wanted some fresh air," Seungcheol answers sharply, locking his eyes with yours, and there's a small smile that graces his lips once he catches sight of you. "It's peaceful here in the garden, isn't it?"

You heart only flutters to his words, yet that arrow of sadness pierces through your chest. However, even below the auroral skies and with the intoxicating fragrance of flowers all around, your heart feels lighter than it has in a long time.

"Chan, you may excuse us for a moment." He gestures to the young boy, his voice carrying a warm, reassuring tone that you've longed to hear.

With a quick nod, Chan offers a polite bow, shooting you a glance before slipping his way back in the direction of the castle, leaving you alone with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol approaches you, the distance between you decreasing until you're standing just a breath away from each other. You both remain in a contemplative silence, neither of you wanting to break the fragile moment that has been rekindled after so long.

Finally, he speaks in a hushed tone. "You've been avoiding me."

Your gaze is quick to fall to the ground in guilt, unable to meet his eyes.

"You know I had to," You reply simply, voice barely more than a whisper. "We can't be together, Cheol. You should know this better than me. It was the only choice you had. Duty called, and you answered."

Seungcheol's face only contorts with a mix of anguish and frustration. "Duty? Duty won't keep me warm at night, Y/N. Duty won't make me feel alive. You are what my heart longs for. You should know this. This is all purely arranged, don't you remember?"

You let out an audible scoff, feeling your hands crumple into fists at your side. "You're being selfish right now. Think about the kingdom, your family, and the future you're meant to build. Don't you see why we can't... we can't be together? It's inevitable. We shouldn't..." Your find your voice drifting away, words getting caught in your throat.

He steps even closer, his frustration boiling over into desperation. "I am thinking about them. I think about them every day, but I... I can't stop thinking about you either. I can't stop loving you."

"This love won't feed the hungry, Seungcheol. This love won't protect our people. This love won't secure the kingdom's future. This love won't change the fact that I'm merely a commoner and you're a prince."

The moonlight accentuates the sadness in his eyes as your words sink in, and you find yourself unable to hold back the tears that have welled up. The two of you only stand there for a few long moments, simply gazing in each other's glassy eyes, feeling like the garden itself was holding in a breath of its own.

Then in a sudden moment of vulnerability, you step closer to him, resting your head against his chest, taking in his familiar warmth and the scent you've longed for as your tears stain his shirt. Seungcheol wraps you in his strong arms, pulling you closer, and you feel his heartbeat against your body, steady and comforting. It's a sound you've always loved listening to whenever you embraced each other.

"I've missed you, darling," he mutters quietly. "Don't you understand how much you mean to me?"

With his arms around you, you feel a warmth that fills the void in your heart. It's a sensation you've yearned for the past few torturous months.

"I-I've missed you too," You confess, voice trembling. "But... but we can't𑁋"

"Please," he pleads softly, tightening his hold around you. "Can't I just hold you?"

The tenderness his voice holds cuts you off, and you can't help the way your fingers instinctively knead at his shirt.

Seungcheol holds you tightly, as if he's afraid that letting go will make you vanish into thin air. In this fleeting moment, there's no kingdom to rule, no traditions to uphold𑁋just the two of you, reunited in an embrace that disregards the confines of your roles. It's as if the world beyond this secluded royal garden has ceased to exist, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly alive.

"I love you," he murmurs, voice heavy with sorrow, his lips brushing against your hair. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Usually that particularly intimate exchange brings those flutters to your stomach and a giddy smile to your face, but instead, it only makes your heart throb. Though you know with every fibre in your body that it's true𑁋that you love each other. It's not a secret, nor a feeling to deny.

You find yourself pulling away slightly, angling your head up to be able to take a look at him. His gaze meets yours halfway, and the intensity in his dark pupils nearly takes your breath away. He searches your eyes for a moment, before drawing his lips near yours, his intent clear. For a heartbeat, you're tempted to give in𑁋to taste the sweetness of his kiss once more.

But then the weight of responsibility, the duty you've always known, everything, pulls you back.

"I-I can't," You whisper, the words escaping your lips shakily. "We can't, Seungcheol. It-It's not right."

Seungcheol's breath hitches as you pull away. His lips hover just inches from yours, yearning for a connection that seems increasingly unattainable.

"I know," he replies quietly, his voice barely more than a breath. He still doesn't want to let you go. "I understand. I'm sorry."

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, caressing his skin softly. "The kingdom needs you. Your people need you. They need a strong, capable leader. They need their prince."

Seungcheol's jaw tightens. "And what about what I need? What about what my heart seeks?"

You only gaze longingly at him. The two of you know the answer to that. You don't have to say anything before he understands with a sigh. His expression softens with a mix of resignation and affection, and he takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"Your Highness, your presence is requested back in the palace," Chan's voice calls out from behind, breaking the fragile moment between the two of you.

Seungcheol releases your hand defeatedly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer.

However, instead of backing away, he leans back in close to whisper into your ears, "Come meet me at the royal ballroom tomorrow at midnight," Then he pauses, contemplating, and adding on, "if you wish, of course."

Then his lips curl into a bittersweet smile before turning away to leave. The sound of his footsteps gradually fades as he walks away back towards the palace, leaving you standing amidst the fragrant blooms and under the rays of soft moonlight.

Come meet me at the royal ballroom... midnight... if you wish. Seungcheol's words have been echoing in your mind for the entirety of the day, sometimes even distracting you from the duties you are assigned to in the royal garden.

The more you thought over his invitation, the more it felt like an impossible temptation, knowing well of the risks and consequences it could bring.

The day passes in a blur, the sun making its daily journey across the sky, casting a warm and inviting glow over the palace and the royal garden. And when the late night finally takes over, and the clock strikes midnight, you find yourself cautiously walking down the large corridor of the palace, your feet instinctively bringing you in the direction of the royal ballroom. It's eerily quiet at this time, nothing but skeleton staff that still heightens your paranoid senses of getting caught.

Yet as you stop in front of the grand doors of the ballroom, your heart quickens its pace. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. Should you really be doing this? Was it entirely a good idea to be here?

But just the thought of simply him draws you in, your hand briefly gliding over the glistening doorknob.

With a determined sigh, you take the leap and push the heavy doors open. The ballroom lies before you, bathed in the silvery luminescence filtering through the grand windows. Your heart races as you step inside.

The ballroom is empty, deserted practically. All of the lights, including the large chandelier, were switched off, the only source coming from the outside world through the tall windows.

As you step further into the room, the sounds of your shoes echoing throughout, the sheer emptiness of the place becomes more apparent. You swear you even hear your own thoughts bouncing off the walls of the room. Doubts start to creep into your mind. What if he doesn't come? What if this was all a mistake?

However, just as you're about to give in to the feeling of hopelessness, you hear a soft sound from behind you. You turn to find Seungcheol entering the ballroom and closing the door shut. He's dressed in a simple black suit, and there's a twinge of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrors your own.

"You came," he says, and his voice is so soft that you can barely hear it over your racing heart.

You fully turn yourself to him, swallowing down a nervous lump in your throat.

"You called."

Seungcheol's eyes light up, and a faint smile crosses his lips as he steps closer to you. The moonlight bathes him in an celestial glow, accentuating his princely features. But in this moment, he's just the man you've been in love with for so long.

He extends his hand toward you, eyes locked onto yours, inviting you to share a dance with him.

"May I?" he asks gentlemanly, and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks.

You hesitate for a brief moment, glancing down at his hand and back up to his face. "I... I don't know how..."

Seungcheol's smile remains warm and encouraging, his hand still extended toward you.

"It's okay," he says softly. "I'll teach you. Just follow my lead."

Tentatively, you place your hand in his. His grip is firm yet gentle as he guides you to the centre of the empty dance floor, a certain eager bounce in his step that you notice, and the stars painting the ground seem to come to life as you stand with him. Seungcheol places his hand on your waist, and the warmth of his palm against your skin sends shivers down your spine. You loop your arms around his neck, trying to steady your breathing as you prepare to follow his lead.

At first, your steps are awkward, but you try your best to mimic the elegance and grace that he naturally possesses. He's probably had personal training for this kind of thing, You think.

You chuckle at the small moments where your feet accidentally bump or you step on his toes, and Seungcheol's laughter mingles with yours. Nothing but a soft melody of an imagined song fills the silence as the two of you move together in the middle of the ballroom.

"You're doing great," he whispers, breath brushing against your ear as you sway together.

It's scarily easy to lose yourself in Seungcheol's eyes. They're the same eyes that once whispered secrets of love to you beneath the stars. Now they say a lot without saying anything.

You don't know how long you've been dancing, but it feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. The world outside the ballroom may be waiting, filled with your separate responsibilities and expectations, but in this moment, it's just you and him.

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?" Seungcheol comments, even though you were only dressed in your servant uniform.

Your cheeks flush at his compliment, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze, and offer a shy smile. "I'm not as stunning as the ladies at the court, nor your betrothed."

Seungcheol gently tilts your chin upward, making sure you meet his eyes.

"Every time I look at you, I feel like I fall in love all over again." His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek. "Every time I watch you down tending to the garden through my quarters, I feel as if you're tending to my heart. I can simply say that you're the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on, sweetheart."

His words make your heart swell out of your chest, his grip on your waist tightening imperceptibly, drawing you closer to him. The space between you vanishes, and you can feel the heat of his body seeping through the layers of fabric that separate you. Seungcheol could shower you with praises all day long, and you would never tire of hearing them. He has a way of making you feel special, cherished, and utterly adored.

"Cheol?" You call out, voice tinged with vulnerability.

He raises an eyebrow, still guiding you through the dance. "Yes, love?"

"Are we crazy for doing this?" You ask. It's meant to be rhetorical in a way, but the uncertainty in your voice lingers, and Seungcheol's expression becomes more serious.

He slows the movement between you two, his pensive eyes locked onto yours.

"Perhaps we are," he admits wholeheartedly. "but I'd rather be crazy with you than live a life without you."

His words quietly suspend in the air around you. The moments pass, but they feel eternal, as if time itself has momentarily paused to let the two of you be together. You're captured in his eyes, just like he is with yours. You see the emotions he's trying to convey: love, longing, and the knowledge that this moment is both a blessing and a curse.

And then without a word, you both lean in at the same time, lips meeting each other's in a kiss both softly and tenderly. It's a stolen moment; it's a secret scene that only the moon and stars witness.

His arms pull you closer, fingers dancing along your spine, as if he's trying to bridge any space that might exist between you. It's a kiss that tastes of bittersweet nostalgia𑁋something of what once was and what could never be. You savour the taste of him on your lips, knowing that once the morning light arrives, this moment may become nothing more than a distant memory.

As your lips break away, you both draw back slightly, foreheads touching, breathing heavily as you savour the precious seconds of closeness.

"You know that I'd give up everything for you," he whispers, breath warm against your skin.

You only smile, tracing your fingers gently over his lips. He leans into your touch.

"I know," You say softly. "And I would do the same for you."

"But just for tonight." He pushes back some strands of hair behind your ear. "Can we pretend that the world doesn't matter?"

You peer into his eyes, and for a moment, you see a reflection of your own pining. Your heart sinks, but it also rises. A smile drifts across your face, but it also carries a trace of sadness. Leaning in, you nearly press your lips against his once again, but then you take in a deep breath.

"Yes," is all you mutter. "I'm all yours."

That's all it takes for him to kiss you again, a bit more fervently and urgently that it nearly makes you stumble in surprise. But the second you pull back from each other, he's grabbing your hand in his, a bright smile to his face, before twirling you around and pulling you in close once more, your laughter echoing in the empty ballroom together. You share one more kiss, and then another, and another, whispers of hushed I love you's against each other’s lips as the night goes on like it will never end.

And it's with each minute that passes that only strengthens Seungcheol's determination𑁋that in some way, he will make sure you both will be together, whether that means escaping the constraints of your worlds, finding a way to keep your love alive in secret, or even sacrificing a part of himself.

With each kiss, he silently promises you that he will find a way. With each kiss, you silently promise to love and wait for him.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1

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darrenpillowscriss · 5 months ago

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Aguefort faculty the Bad Kids have killed:

Lunch lady Doreen

Coach Daybreak

Goldenhoard

Interim emergency backup principal Grix

Porter Cliffbreaker

Jace Stardiamond

Aguefort faculty the Bad Kids have indirectly caused the deaths of:

Arthur Aguefort

Mr. Gibbons

Gilear Faeth (multiple times)

Yolanda Badgood

Aguefort faculty the Bad Kids killed a doppelgänger of in a weird extra-dimensional space:

Zara Sool

#d20 #dimension 20 #fhjy #fantasy high #in conclusion it's a miracle they haven't all been expelled

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odinsblog · 2 months ago

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[re: this post]

The bad news is, I’m stranded because my condo has only one road in and out, and that’s 100% underwater rn

The other bad news is, my car is flooded even though I thought I moved it to higher ground

BUT … the heartening news is this:

This condo complex is roughly 2,500 units so tons of people live here. We were all without power from around 4pm yesterday until 10:30am today

So at daybreak everyone was outside surveying the damage and trying to figure out how to get their sunken cars started and how to get out (we’re just going to have to wait for the waters to recede iMho)

I took one look at my VERY RECENTLY PAID FOR CAR as it sat submerged, and started to head back inside. That’s when a neighbor I’d never met before asked me if my phone was charged. I told her no, it’s completely dead. She then directed me to another neighbor who found one outlet that, for some reason, still had power. There were about 10 or 15 people lined up and someone had gotten probably the longest extension cord w/outlets that I’ve ever seen in my life. If you weren’t already charging your phone on the outlet, there was one outlet spot where everyone was taking turns to get a quick 10 minute charge and make some calls. Apparently everyone had already voted to use one of the extension cord outlets full time for a coffee pot (because coffee, right?)

There was someone else outside whose car wasn’t submerged who was letting people use his car to charge their phones

And then I heard someone say, “Are there any elderly or disabled people living here who we need to go check on?” And I said, “OMG, what about the lady on the 7th floor? She’s in a wheelchair!” And someone else said that the elevator was out because of no power, and I was like, “So? Are the stairs broken? I can run up and go check on her.” And then someone else was like, “She died a couple of years ago.” And we were all like, “Ohhh.”

I’m rambling a bit, but the point is, it was super refreshing to see people working together and sharing and helping each other. This wasn’t a disaster by any stretch of the imagination. At worst, it has merely been a big inconvenience. But it was still nice to see neighbors (many of whom were strangers until this morning) being nice and helpful to each other

It reaffirms what I’ve always believed: in difficult times most people WILL work together—without any personal or monetary incentive. So please don’t believe greedy ass mutha fuckers when they opine about survival of the fittest and making a quick profit off of someone else’s suffering. It doesn’t have to be that way, and most often, it isn’t that way

And yeah, I know that my small experience wasn’t a dire situation and no lives were on the line (like they are where the hurricane actually made landfall), but I would like to believe that my microcosm is the norm for similar macrocosms

I believe that most people are good at heart, or at the very least, they WANT to be good and sometimes just need a nudge in the right direction

Anyway, I guess it’s about time for me to go do battle with my car insurance company (now talk about evil entities!) to see what up with my partially submerged vehicle

If anyone has done this insurance claim dance before, I’m open to some friendly advice bc this is brand new for me

Please have a great day today everyone ✌🏿

#its a good day to be alive #hurricane helene #nice people rock #a post about me

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landofanimes · 11 months ago

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Spy x Family

Season 1 Episode Posters (2nd Cour)

Mission 13: Project Apple

Mission 14: Disarm The Time Bomb

Mission 15: A New Family Member

Mission 16: Yor's Kitchen / The Informant's Great Romance Plan

Mission 17: Carry out the Griffin Plan / Fullmetal Lady / Omelet Rice ♡

Mission 18: Uncle The Private Tutor / Daybreak

Mission 19: A Revenge Plot Against Desmond / Mama Becomes the Wind

Mission 20: Ivestigate the General Hospital / Decipher the Perplexing Code

Mission 21: Nightfall / First Fit of Jealousy

Mission 22: The Underground Tennis Tournament: The Campbelldon

Mission 23: The Unwavering Path

Mission 24: The Role of a Mother and Wife / Shopping with Friends

Mission 25: First Contact

#spy x family #Loid Forger #Anya Forger #Yor Forger #Bond Forger #Fiona Frost #Becky Blackbell #Damian Desmond #Sylvia Sherwood #Donovan Desmond #Yuri Briar #sxf poster #Yor Briar #sxf nightfall #sxf daybreak

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couldsewyouastitchandsavenine · 4 months ago

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Tonight [Javi Peña]

a/n: this has been sitting in my wip for months...

pairing: javi peña x fem!reader

wordcount: 1.2K

warnings: language, implied smut

The unmistakable soundtrack of the neighbours’ morning activities kicks off like clockwork—the signature blend of thumps, squeaks, and moans making it clear the walls in this place are way too thin for comfort.

Next to him, you shift, restless movements of limbs under the thin sheets before your eyes crack open, unfocused and irritated.

Javier can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. Knowing the walls are paper-thin is one thing; getting a front-row seat to the neighbours'...enthusiasm...right at daybreak is another story entirely. Javier grimaces as he drags a hand down his face, trying to scrub away the sleep and the disbelief as he sits up.

"What the hell is that noise?" Your voice is hoarse, still tangled up in the tail end of a dream.

Javier, attempting a lighthearted jab, runs a hand through his hair once more and looks away from the water-stain on his ceiling. "Was hoping it was just your heart skipping a beat for me."

You can't help but snort, your amusement mixed with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "Keep dreaming, Peña."

Thrown together by fate or sheer luck, the two of you are an odd pair. Have been for a long time. Bound by inside jokes, old secrets, an oddball friendship that by all rights shouldn't work but somehow does. And mornings like these, with the neighbours providing an unwanted audio to their primal needs, you both find yet another common ground in mutual disdain.

Sitting up, you pull at the edges of an old Fleetwood Mac t-shirt, one that’s seen better days, some relic tied to an ex, not him. Stretching your arms above your head, a yawn breaks free that turns into a soft, kittenish mewl. Javier averts his eyes, trying to grant you a sliver of privacy, to ignore the complicated heat that curls low in his belly at the sweet, sleepy sounds you make.

Then, just as the room settles into a brief silence, the unmistakable chant of "Ay papi!" floats through the walls, followed by an uptick in the neighbours' activities.

You clench your jaw. "Guess they're really going for gold, huh?"

"I'd give 'em a 5.7 on technical merit."

"Tough critic." The corner of your mouth twitches. "Points for stamina?"

Shrugging with an air of mock seriousness, Javier flashes a grin as he reaches for his pack of cigarettes. "Let's give ‘em half an hour. Coffee?"

"Got bread?"

You’re halfway into a pants dance, trying to shimmy into your jeans without losing your balance, while Javier slides into his with an ease that's borderline annoying. He doesn’t even bother buttoning them before he stakes out his territory by the kitchen counter. Lighting up a cigarette, he shoots you a look that says he’s not in the mood for chatter—not yet, anyway.

But the silence that hangs between you isn't uncomfortable; it's the kind you’ve both grown into, filled with a mutual understanding that the morning spent at Javier’s doesn't start until the coffee's been poured and the first slice of toast has been demolished.

With a grunt that seems to officially start the day, Javier manages to get the toast onto plates just as you’re finishing up pouring the dark liquid into his mismatched mugs. Your hands brush briefly in the exchange—toast for coffee. A fair trade.

Then, it’s all about the quiet: the sound of cooling air meeting the hot surface of coffee, the paper end of Javier’s cigarette burning down, and a quiet crunch of bread as you bite into it.

After a stretch of silence long enough to let your thoughts gather, you venture out a question.

"Ever think this is how it feels for them when you bring your ladies over?”

He huffs, a sound that's half-defensive, half-entertained. "Please. I'm pitch-perfect every time. And anyway, they're too blown away to make a peep."

"Sure, in your dreams," you can't help but laugh, the sound warm in the cool morning air.

Javier smirks around his cigarette. "Could prove it. Might be nice to keep you quiet for once."

With a roll of your eyes, you shift. “Can’t you, I don’t know, go over there and flash your badge or something? Arrest them for public disturbance?"

Javier turns to you, an incredulous look etching his face. “I’m DEA,” he says, as if those three letters explained everything and nothing at all.

You shrug, shameless. “A badge is a badge.”

"How very Texas of you," he drawls, flicking ash in the sink.

"Whatever."

You cram the last of the toast in your mouth, chipmunk-cheeked and utterly unconcerned with table manners.

“Real sexy,” he comments, an amused smirk playing on his lips as you try to manage the ambitious mouthful.

“It’s turning you on, isn’t it?” you manage to say, your words muffled by bread and bravado.

“You have no idea,” he replies with a theatrical huff, pushing off from the counter to head back to his room to get dressed for work. "Need a ride?" he calls over his shoulder.

You finally swallow, swiping at your mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah, thanks!" you shout towards the direction of his bedroom, now fishing through his almost bare fridge for something—anything—to take for lunch. "And hey, can I make a sandwich? I'm gonna starve by lunch otherwise."

"Knock yourself out. Pretty sure the only thing left in there is mustard and regret, but have at it."

By the time he reappears, buttoning up a beige, long-sleeved shirt and shrugging into his corduroy jacket, you’ve already laid claim to what’s left in his kitchen and are holding an old, greasy bag Javier’s pretty sure had been sitting on his counter for the past three days.

As you both weave through the living room, a tightrope walk between yesterday’s debris and the start of today, Javier snatches his keys and slots his service weapon in place. He then clicks the door shut, just as the unmistakable soundtrack of his neighbours' activities fires up once again.

Only this time, it’s more high-pitched, filled with curses that make you want to cross yourself and then jump in a basin of holy water for good measure—"Ay papi, así!" echoing obscenely in the stairwell.

You cut your eyes at Javi as you fall into step beside him. "Still think they've got the endurance to beat you?"

He smirks, holding the outer door open with a flourish. "Not even close, cariño."

"Pretty sure of yourself there, Peña."

"Don't believe me?" His tease is evident as he holds the door open for you, a gesture that's part gallantry, part performance. As you slide into the passenger seat, he slams the Jeep's door with enough force to send a shudder through the frame.

"It'll take some convincing," you retort, meeting his gaze with a smirk and an eyebrow raised in silent dare.

"Just say when," he says as he hops into the driver's seat, cranking the window down to let in the morning air.

You hold his gaze, the moment stretching taut. Then slowly, deliberately, you drag your teeth over your bottom lip. "Guess we've got plans tonight, then."

Your voice is a purr, whisky-rough and daring.

Javier pauses, his eyes locking onto yours, searching, as if trying to decode an underlying message. For a moment, he seems at a loss, then a sly grin spreads across his face.

"Tonight," he confirms, the engine roaring to life under his hand. "It's about damn time I shut you up."

#javi peña x reader #javi peña #javier peña #javi peña x you #javi peña x f!reader #javi peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal

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mentallyisekaid · 11 months ago

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「 ✦ Fatui Harbingers x Signora's Sister! Reader, PART 3 ✦ 」

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5 [Part 3] Part 3.5

It's highly recommended to read the parts in order, otherwise few things will make sense!

A/N ~ hey there, if you're following this story but haven't yet seen my pinned post, you should go and read it since it's where I'll update general stuff regarding the fic~

---

Featured in this chapter, we have... a certain dubious duo?

Warnings: half-intentional ooc moments

Word count: 2.3k

---

A week or so had passed.

It's not that you were complaining about this endless 'trial period', per se. Still, just going through piles of boring documents, day after day - any immortal being would've lost their mind sooner or later.

Half a millennium dulled all shine there was to a mundane life, so seeking out a bit of excitement was crucial for maintaining sanity. But even making bets with Childe wasn't thrilling enough (though it did come close!)

Without a drastic change of pace soon, you might have just gone feral.

And your colleagues were quite aware of it~ In time, you better believe they would've even stolen the Moon from the sky for you if you only asked for it, but nevertheless, first, you needed to prove that they could trust you.

The Fatui took immense pride in loyalty - yet yours was very fickle, and they knew it. But rather than allegiance, what your Harbingers seeked for was sign of your devotion toward them, something that exceeded the boundaries of professionalism and demonstrated... a much deeper level of trust.

"Was revealing the secret of this stupid Vision a mistake, after all?" a thought that had plagued your mind.

Well, who could say... but apparently, it had been worth it!

No one could really fathom Pierro's decisions, but it seems that after hearing you'd confided a part of your past to some of them, the Director had thought you'd proved yourself enough. And maybe it was because he knew you just a bit too well, having been there all those centuries ago.

But did this mean that all of them now knew of your little conversation with Scaramouche, Columbina and Childe?

Well, such a thought hardly occupied you.

Because more importantly, you were finally about to get (*insert an ominous fanfare*)...

Your very first field mission!

Good riddance, eternal paperwork~

---

A sign of their trust, or... just another test?

You didn't care either way.

"Lady Harbinger," a Cicin Mage had bowed her head after entering your office. "The Jester has assigned you to an official errand with Lords Ninth and Second. You are to rendezvous with them at the gates. Effective immediately."

And girl, you couldn't have bolted out of that room faster! It made the poor Cicins squeak in alarm. The mage only sighed while shaking her head, not sure that you'd come out of this one with your sanity still intact.

So, your bored prayers had been heard. But by the gods, or a devil? A field assignment with this specific pair of Harbingers had the potential to turn out chaotic beyond belief...

and you were all for it!

It was daybreak in Snezhnaya.

The early morning air was even more frigid than usual, making your grip the coat on around you tighter as you waltzed through the snowy yard. From a distance, you could make out two shadowy figures next to the gates of Zapolyarny Palace, their menacing auras unmistakable.

When Regrator and Il Dottore were working together, anyone even remotely involved had better be on their guard...

Lest they wanted to end up in horrible debt.

Or as a part of human experiments.

But the shady banker and the heretic researcher had failed to intimidate you, and they found such fearlessness quite... captivating.

As you got closer, Pantalone offered you a warm smile.

"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?"

"Hello... and no, *yawn*... it's impossible to get decent rest with these working hours. But," a smile made its way onto your lips, "I'm pleased to finally get to work outside of the palace~"

And with the two of you, it might just be twice as fun, a totally weird thought that you didn't voice out, and instead sighed:

"Though, at the cost of skipping my yummy breakfast pancakes..."

You took a bite from the frostbitten, red fruit in your hand. This earned a chuckle from Dottore.

"No, no, you won't get sufficient vitamins from that. How about trying the special pills I gave you? You'd help me with my research while you're at it, too..."

"I'm afraid your experimental supplements might end up turning me into a slime."

An apple a day hardly kept this doctor away. But much to everyone's surprise, you seemed to know how to handle his eccentric personality and... the segments. Even Scaramouche was impressed by this.

"Don't you look rather young today, Zandik?" you questioned with a hint of playfulness; a habit you'd picked up from Damselette.

The Doctor only replied with a smile, gently sweeping away a few snowflakes from your hair as if admiring a most precious specimen (no objectifying here, Dottore's just being Dottore~)

This one seemed to be of the more reasonable segments, if such a concept even existed - though regardless of the form, you were really quite fond of their antics.

Pantalone, too, was a difficult person in his own way, knowing how to both frustrate you to no ends, and yet make you feel so endeared.

As usual, the banker seemed just a bit too amused by everything.

That, and he found you adorable.

"Hehe, I must admit that dealing with the two of you off-duty is always rather delightful~ but we ought to leave duly," he stepped forward and offered you his hand. "After all, we wouldn't want to be late on Y/N's first mission, now would we?"

Dottore mimicked his gesture. "Indeed, off we go."

These two....

But on that note?

"Dare I ask," you raised an eyebrow, "what the mission might be?"

They only smiled at you - Pantalone while adjusting his glasses, Dottore with his expression half hidden by that asymmetrical mask, and both in a suspiciously mellow way.

You frowned. Pierro had definitely been up to something when sending you on a nameless errand, and with this dubious duo, no less...

and you were quite enjoying the suspense!

---

Three Harbingers waltzing through the snowy streets, a dozen of Fatui agents following close behind, was a slightly unnerving sight; one could only wonder who had wronged the infamous organization this time, and pray the lot wouldn't fall on them.

Someone sure was out of their luck today.

You tried to ignore the not so subtle gazes the citizens threw you as you walked past them, though understanding their curiosity.

It was the first public appearance of the rumoured 12th Harbinger, after all.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you tried to distract yourself by focusing on the scenery. It had been over a month since you'd last set foot outside the palace grounds, but Snezhnaya's beauty never faltered...

At some point, you got a bit lost in thought.

Dottore's lazy comment, however, caught your attention.

"Now then, I've heard some interesting things about that Pyro Vision of yours…"

Pantalone smiled, as if oblivious.

You sighed. "Well, that's unsurprising. From Scaramouche, I reckon."

"Tsk, you have so little imagination." The Doctor clicked his tongue. "Then, allow me to ask you... How long do you think the oldest one of my segments has been around? Or, how efficiently all these clones are capable of gathering information? Or, how much more I can figure out just by knowing a few things about you?"

"Such roundabout hints, Doctor."

"What he's trying to say, of course," Pantalone chimed in, "is that the Second of the Harbingers has many... unconventional ways of finding out what his curiosity desires."

You sighed, "and he shares everything with you, because why not?"

Not very surprising.

It was granted that your secrets were never going to remain hidden from them forever, and frankly speaking, you didn't care. Pierro was already aware of every scandalous detail there was to your past anyway, so was there a reason for you to be so reticent about it?

Well, certainly not anymore...

but it was still a tad too early to completely let your guard down either!

A weird silence filled the air for a while, probably making the lower ranks behind you a bit uncomfortable.

But since Pantalone and Dottore didn't pursue on the topic, you thought, 'why should I either?'

Yet they obviously expected you to.

"Then," you sighed, giving in, "I assume you want to ask me about something? My Visions, no doubt."

Pantalone patted your head, "Only if our little Harbinger wouldn't deem it prying."

"I do, but go ahead."

Knowing them to be exceedingly shrewd characters, manipulating others so effortlessly, you realized these two could have easily lead you into a trap here. But somehow, this subtle controlling was always done gently enough not to hurt you.

And they never would, surely.

One way or another, though, they always found out what they wanted...

Pantalone gestured the Fatui agents to put some distance between them and the three of you - was it courtesy, or maybe... protectiveness? Either way, it would prevent bothersome rumours about your past from spreading any further, so you gave him an appreciative smile.

Dottore was walking leisurely with his hands behind his back, giving you sidelong glances.

"Then, tell me, Y/N - why do you think Celestia grants Visions so heedlessly? Why is it that even some of the strongest individuals never receive one?"

The vapor from your breath formed clouds in the cold air as you took a few deep breaths before answering.

"Well, I can only speak for myself. I've always been ambitionless and ran away from all my problems rather than facing them. So, thinking back, I never should've received a Vision in the first place, fake or not."

You sighed, "Rosalyne, on the other hand... I think she had every right to get a blessing from those crafty deities. She was assertive, gifted - a bit of a diva at times - but somewhere beneath lied a gentle soul."

And here you were again, talking about her; she haunted you when she was alive, and haunted you as dead.

Pantalone raised an eyebrow. "My, I've never heard anyone say such things about the Fair Lady?"

Dottore, too, seemed reluctant to accept these praises you directed at your sister, as he'd only seen her as a shallow, crude woman.

"Don't get me wrong, though," you commented, "she was no saint..."

"But?"

You shrugged, "...nor was I."

The two Harbingers had quietly moved closer to you, now walking on your both sides. You only noticed this when their arms slightly brushed against yours.

"After my father created this... thing and gave it to me, and how I greedily accepted it, I always wondered if we had angered the gods so thoroughly that they didn't grant my sister a Vision out of pure spite."

Pantalone brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

"Perhaps... you shouldn't be so merciless toward yourself."

"I'm not. Rosalyne and I were very similar, after all."

Dottore raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"We both wanted what we felt we deserved - power, attention... acceptance. I don't know whose yearning was greater, but neither one of us settled for any less. So, I tied a manmade Vision on my hips, and Rosalyne left to study the art of liquid fire in the Akademiya; the divine refused to acknowledge us, so we searched for our due elsewhere."

Pantalone stroked his chin, seemingly amused. "Well, what a pair of blasphemous sisters?"

"However," the Doctor chuckled, "what you did surely made those self-important gods grit their teeth in frustration. I find such heresy quite commendable. Bravo, truly~"

"And then you went and became a Fatui Harbinger," Pantalone sighed. "Poor Celestia, they couldn't shackle you..."

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at their comments.

"Though, I am curious about one thing," Pantalone continued. "You said Celestia 'rejected' you, yet here you are, with a bona fide Cryo Vision? Isn't that a sign that the gods did, in fact, accept you?"

It was something you'd been wondering ever since that day as well...

And the lamentable conclusion was this:

"Perhaps Celestia just took pity on me. Or, perhaps the Vision was intended as a warning."

"A warning?" Pantalone smiled eerily. "For what reason exactly, my dear?"

To keep your mouth shut?

To not cross such lines ever again?

And yet... "That's a story for a later time," you told them as well, smiling.

Dottore and Pantalone were adept at concealing how they really thought and felt about things, so you couldn't quite decipher their reactions to your cryptic words.

Still, a fleeting sentiment had flashed across their faces - resentment, perhaps. Not toward you, though.

Suddenly, they both stopped walking.

You took a few steps more before noticing and stopping as well, glancing at them over your shoulder.

"Well, would you look that? Time flies so pleasantly with Y/N around." Pantalone checked his pocket watch. "It seems we're here a bit early."

...and where was 'here', exactly?

It looked like a small, secluded village, somewhat. There were no proper houses, just some dilapidated cottages and cabins, and only a few of them. The people outside, wearing clothes way too ragged and light for this type of weather, had quickly fled inside once seeing the Fatui had arrived.

You knew there was a lot of poverty in rural Snezhnaya, but this was... well, it reminded you of the times when you'd struggled to get by as well - memories you'd rather never have had brought up again.

Dottore mumbled something about "these ones" being "too malnourished for test subjects" as he walked past you.

Pantalone had also went ahead with his subordinates, discussing some questionable economics that apparently concerned this place.

But you lingered behind them for a moment, lost in thought.

The people here have surely lost enough, so why choose to bring themselves even more misfortune by getting involved with the Fatui? I understand the way humans think less and less with every decade that passes...

Just now noticing that you hadn't followed them, the two Harbingers strode back to your side.

You quickly hid any remnant of hesitance from your face, giving them a smile.

"Time to prove myself, no?"

Dottore chuckled, "You don't seem too anxious about your first field mission, my little Harbinger, even though you don't know what's waiting up ahead..."

"Well," you sighed. "For the Tsaritsa, and all that... you know? And I reckon I've faced worse anyway."

"I'll ask you to elaborate on that some other time~ On a similar note," Pantalone mused, playing with your hair softly, "we all saw something in you that day, at the funeral, and it seems... you really won't disappoint us?"

You shrugged, "We should hope so."

And with their arms loosely linked around yours, the two Harbingers started leading you toward a particular cabin...

(to be continued)

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optiwashere · 1 year ago

Note

Please write your thoughts about the importance of Shadowheart for Shar/Selûne :D

I FEED on character analysis.

SO!!!! This got long as fuck and also morphed into what you asked + a general character interpretation.

I relied on a combination of 2nd, 3rd, and 5th edition D&D lore, R.A. Salvatore novels, and of course BG3 as sources. Shadowheart's characterization adds up the most coherently on the purely romance / "get her away from Shar" path, and that is what I'm using as a basis for this post. Even when you're playing an "evil" route, she behaves in ways that betray a lot of what I get into under the break. This post, however, is biased towards the "good" path of her personal quest for the sake of my sanity and a somewhat reasonable word count.

First, a preamble for people that are maybe less knowledgeable about Forgotten Realms lore.

One of the biggest characterizations of Shar and Selûne in the Forgotten Realms is that they are twin sides of the same thing: night. Night as an aesthetic is symbolic of, among other things: mysteries, being lost without guidance (such as in faith or purpose), and finding oneself when one reaches for the truth. I.e., reaching light from the moon, stars, or daybreak (which is itself a symbol as the natural conclusion of darkness being light for redemption following suffering, goodness defeating evil, finding faith, etc.)

Shar and Selûne are sisters that also share the Night domain in 3e, a sort of fulcrum they both work around — Shar as the "malevolent" darkness with Selûne as the "benevolent" night. There is even a recognized heresy called the Dark Moon heresy in both cults/religions that Shar and Selûne are actually the same goddess playing one gigantic trick on Faerûn (this comes from a 3.5e splatbook called Power of Faerûn) but it's been pushed time and time again that the two sisters are, in fact, two separate entities. But duality of divinity, and how worshipers interpret their god, is a theme we see played up a ton in BG3.

What we know about Shar is that she despises her sister. Loathes her. Not only does she loathe her, she tricked Selûne's followers during the Time of Troubles, about 140 years before BG3, into worshiping her instead of the Moonmaiden. The Time of Troubles was a period when gods walked the Realms, rather than tossing avatars around everywhere. This lead to the formation of a fanatical group of cultists that followed the real Selûne, called the Lunatics (I'm still proud of managing to reference them in a goddamn Explicit PWP fic)

Meanwhile, Selûne is seen as a calming force. She wars with her sister every single night, and does not like her one bit, but she does it as a means to protect others from her sister rather than as a spiteful game. She's not as omnipresent in people's lives, she is just a natural force to a lot of her followers.

How does any of this relate to Shadowheart? Spoiler stuff and the actual character analysis under the break.

We know that Shadowheart was a "chosen" of Selûne as a child, per her parents' dialogue under the House of Grief. However, it's important to note that most religions in Faerûn name potential clerics as "chosen" ones of gods and goddesses.

We know that, throughout the game, Shadowheart learns that she is being manipulated by the Lady of Loss to do acts that go against some sort of internalized moral code that Shadowheart has. We see her approval go up when you do good acts (as long as you ask for compensation, or if it's to help helpless people/animals) and we see her disapprove when you press her boundaries or act unjustly cruel. "Unjust" is left so vague because she does not behave at all according to how the vast majority of Sharrans behave. There are numerous other flags for approval/disapproval such as her enjoying playful chaos, or disliking when you're too trusting of other companions when you first meet them, but we'll focus on the first set I mentioned.

We also know that Shadowheart was continually subjected to memory erasure via the cult of Shar in Baldur's Gate. This gets mildly restored here and there via the tadpoles and Dame Aylin, but her memory is mostly gone. So this moral code is something ingrained in her somehow, because Sharrans don't have kindness training. There's another entire character analysis to be written about Viconia's role in this as it relates to her own character in Baldur's Gate 2, but let's ignore that for now.

In the cloister under the House of Grief, there is a note you can find that outlines the squad sent to find the artifact that protects everyone from the Absolute's domination. The squad has a leader, and it is not Shadowheart. She is listed as "healer" and the text before this explicitly states that the entire squad is expendable. None of them matter to Shar.

BUT!

Divine visitation by a goddess is incredibly rare. It usually only happens to high level clerics, which Shadowheart isn't really even at 12th-level, and to those that the goddess has an extreme, vested interest in. If you free the Nightsong/Dame Aylin instead of killing her, Shadowheart is wrenched out of the Material Plane and made to suffer for an indeterminate amount of time. That, plus literally meeting Shar in the conclusion to her personal question, is very odd given what we know about Shadowheart.

If we presume that Larian did their jobs, and I'm going to because I trust them, then there is an immediate dilemma presented here. Either Shadowheart matters to Shar (she is not expendable), or she is just another zealot (she is expendable.) There is no half-truth in that logic table that really works for Shar, she's an absurdly dogmatic goddess. See: literally any Sharran you encounter in BG3 that isn't Shadowheart. It's possible that the writer of the note didn't know what they were talking about, but I think that's a lazy out that doesn't hold water with the rest of the evidence.

So, which is it? This being the part where I'm mostly in interpretation territory, Shar views Shadowheart as the perfect puppet, a toy to needle at her sister, not because she is important at all as a person, but because she's a representation of Selûne that Shar can mold to suit her image as she did in the Time of Troubles. We hear that in the game when Shadowheart basically says that she was just a thing for Shar to use. She's beaten into (what Shar believes will be) submission for not becoming a Dark Justiciar, but it only serves to sever the tie between cleric and goddess.

Shadowheart is Shar's answering play to Selûne beating that trick from the Time of Troubles, and there will be another Shadowheart after her eventual death. Shadowheart is both incredibly important and utterly worthless to Shar in the same way that an abuser uses affection and trust to hurt their victims. Love bombs in the form of divine power, sending her on this important mission, and offering the title of Dark Justiciar are followed by pain when Shadowheart displeases her. As if, on a whim, all that supposed mutual respect could turn into non-consensual, extreme violence.

Shadowheart is an objectified opportunity for Shar to fuck with Selûne for the entirety of a single half-elf's lifespan (anywhere from 150-200 years) and nothing more. A plaything to discard when all is said and done after a microcosm of time where a goddess is concerned. Whatever Shadowheart thinks she's benefiting from with Shar, it's all a trick. It's a massive delusion with which she's been brainwashed into participating.

And deep down, deep deep way deep down, Shadowheart knows this even in Act One. She spouts random sayings and the sorts of 2edgy4me one-liners that you would expect from a somewhat goth-y, slightly sassy Stock Evil Cleric in a fantasy RPG. For a good portion of Act One, you wouldn't be wrong to assume she's extremely one note and a total zealot. That is, unless you know two things:

That Shar is a fucking menace in Faerûn, and nothing good ever comes naturally from her cult. Anyone that knows FR lore was probably like me when they first interacted with Shadowheart. I know I basically said, "What the fuck, you're not a Sharran lmao. Either Larian goofed hard, or something's fishy here."

That extraordinarily devout people tend not to babble in verse, prayer, and all that unless they are also trying to convince themselves to have more faith in a set of beliefs that they're not entirely sold on. This isn't 100% of the time, but it's something you see in people whose faith is not very strong. People who have ironclad faiths and hold consistent ideologies tend to rely more on personal interpretation of faith, for good or ill. You see this all over BG3 in the people that are more confident in their beliefs, as well. Isobel, Orin, and Z'rell are three wildly different angles on that, for example. It's really all over the game in the NPCs.

That second point is the more important one here. Shadowheart, in Act One, is constantly talking about her goddess. If she's not hiding the artifact from you, she's couching an event in concern over what Shar would think of how she behaved. Like she's still a scared child who doesn't know how to handle what's happening around her despite being completely capable in scenarios as hectic as melee combat with ogres. The difference shines bright as day if you play a follower of Selûne and push back on her beliefs, though you do of course get a lot of vitriol in the beginning. Even so, it's clear that Shadowheart knows something is off about Shar whenever confronted with actual Sharran activity/belief, but she's been brainwashed and abused so horrendously that she constantly tries to "correct" herself to appease her abuser.

Selûne, however, isn't really a "part" of Shadowheart's quest in the same way as Shar. The Moonmaiden is not an active participant, she is not a guiding hand or even a faint idea in Shadowheart's thought processes because of how intense the memory blending got for her. The most we ever really get of Selûne's opinion comes from external sources (pretty much entirely from Shadowheart's parents, Isobel, and Aylin when she's not PROCLAIMING DIVINE RIGHTS.) To the Moonmaiden, Shadowheart is really just another of her many, many children spread throughout the Realms. Yet, Shadowheart retains that sense of inherent goodness that Selûne instils in her followers.

Unlike the Lady of Loss, Selûne's indifference isn't hateful or spiteful at all. For Selûne, the ultimate goal of any of her followers is to find themselves. To illuminate who they are meant to be by moonlight. Two of her domains in 3rd edition are Protection and Travel, and in 5e she has Knowledge as well, while one of her "mantles" (the domain equivalent for psionics) is Freedom. She wants to give her followers the ability to freely tread whichever road will lead to self-actualization.

Selûne demands almost nothing of her own followers so long as they act according to the basic tenets of a traditionally Chaotic Good deity. She accepts flaws, faults, and failures in her clerics as much as she rewards strengths, virtues, and victories. There is no divine intervention from Selûne because she accepts Shadowheart intrinsically as long as Shadowheart finds herself. All it took for Selûne to take Shadowheart back after forty years of being a fanatical Sharran was saving one person, and trusting one of two people that we know she's let in for that forty years (the PC, as well as possibly Nocturne) — Selûne sees that she's an abuse victim at the heart of it all.

Side-note: Selûne's primary holy symbol is two eyes surrounded by stars. She is always a passive witness to her clerics' deeds. I don't think I need to get into that symbolism.

Whenever given the chance, Shadowheart values freedom incredibly highly. Even in someone she can take the entire game to warm up to, such as Lae'zel. Her dialogue after Lae'zel denounces Vlaakith speaks directly to this. It's seen repeatedly in her comments on other characters' personal quests such as Astarion, or Karlach, and with Lorroakan's intent on imprisoning Aylin in Act 3.

Once Shadowheart is pulled away from Shar's influence in the end of Act 2/early Act 3, she is... not a completely different person, but she is absolutely a calmer individual that also allows her emotions to surface more intensely. If you're romancing her by Act 2, she confesses that she wants to be with the PC (forever) IMMEDIATELY after being punished horrifically by Shar; she progresses the romance far faster once Shar is out of her brain; she cries, alone, in front of the PC if she chooses to listen to her parents and spare herself from Shar while also killing them. She's known this entire time that she's purposefully holding parts of herself back, and this is her immediate reaction to being set free.

Of course, it's a video game and things aren't always perfectly paced, especially considering the implementation of the Long Rest system. Much of this interpretation requires you to accept that.

After the small dialogue about Shar's intervention after the Gauntlet, the narrator comments that you're not sure if telling Shadowheart where her divine power now comes from will break her spirit forever. That's interesting, and it makes her almost manic change to "I have to be with this person forever" in the romance so utterly sad. Shadowheart is an almost textbook depiction of someone who struggles immensely with vulnerability and emotional openness due to childhood neglect and abuse. Even worse, she's been suffering that neglect and abuse for forty-plus years and she cannot remember what life was like before the time when she constantly yearned for the approval of her abuser. When she's set free and given the appropriate space to manage her feelings (all of the times she asks to be given space/asks the PC to respect her boundaries), support from friends and loved ones in the way Larian handled the camp crew's reactions to everyone's personal quests, and a purpose in life that extends beyond her abuser, she flourishes almost immediately.

To Selûne, Shadowheart is simply another person finding themselves in a world that's incredibly difficult to navigate. Under Shar's domination, Shadowheart will never be anything more than a useful puppet that dances happily whenever her goddess asks, pleased to be what she thinks is useful as she wears the false title of Dark Justiciar. With Selûne watching but not pushing, Shadowheart can be free of everything but her own choices, her own mistakes and victories. Her own person, freed from expectation.

P.S. "Breaking out of toxic thought patterns" is a common thread in the companion romances and quests. In a similar way to how Astarion uses sexuality to mask a part of himself in his romance, Shadowheart sees all this time she's spent holding herself back as an excuse to reverse course and accelerate ridiculously fast by comparison.

My point is, she is a U-Haul Lesbian.

#hey you can ask me things!#shadowheart #bg3 spoilers #shadowheart analysis by yours truly #shadowheart's romance has some interesting mirrors to viconia's from bg2 #there is a phenotype for unsure sharrans and it comes back to “why do I trust this person so much?” and battling with that #also shar should absolutely share the Twilight domain in 5e

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