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utterlyotterlyx · 8 months ago

Note

Cassian and writing prompt #21, “Stay”

I’m desperate for more Cassian x Reader fics!! Thank you :)

Arsonist's Lullaby

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary - Cassian thinks he knows best when he pushes you away, to protect you, but nothing prepared him for a threat on your life and no one can stop him from reaching you.

Warnings - angst, smut smut smut, fluffffffff, swearing, mentions of death

Word Count - 4.9k

Sunlight speckled over your skin, its warm embrace curling around like Cassian once did, glittering its unwavering love across your paled surface, willing it back to life.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for you and Cassian to fight, but something about that fight felt different. More final in a way.

Cassian was always worrying over you, his mate, and what harm his title could potentially inflict upon you. He had been pushing you away, had been spending more time away from you; you knew why, you knew he was scared of being the reason anything happened to you but that didn't mean that he had to shut you out.

Your mate had done everything to prepare you for any potential attack, any risk to your life, you were a skilled fighter thanks to Cassian, even Azriel broke into a sweat sparring against you and Cassian smirked with pride at the image.

Weakness was not a part of your vocabulary, he knew that, but he still treated you as a fragile swirl of winter warmth and you weren't appreciating it.

Confronting Cassian had ensued an argument that would shatter any unmated couple, you had both hurled abusive words to one another, you had called him spineless and unwilling to fathom your ability to be able to care for yourself like you had during the war against Hybern when you had used your rare gift of Solakenisis to hurtle spheres of radiating flame across the battlefield. In return, Cassian had called you weak and pathetic, he had called you reckless and immature, and landed his final blow of calling you jealous of the other women in your circle for having the freedom and strength that you would never be able to wield.

Such an argument left you both panting, with raw throats and wet cheeks, with snarls of hatred sculpted to your usually attached lips.

Cassian had left you then, had left you alone in your shared home with a bag in his hand without a word of when he would return to you. It felt final. It felt damning.

So you decided to leave yourself, but instead of leaving to escape the too-large-for-yourself home to the sanctuary of the residence of your family, you chose to leave the city altogether and chose to not tell a soul, not even Rhys as he tapped on the walls of your iron clad mind once he had felt your essence float through his wards.

Sunlight continued to kiss your skin as you lay in the familiar comfort of your Day Court bed, in the room Helion had promised to always keep for you. Helion was your older brother, well half-brother, but he wouldn't let anyone mutter a word about your bastard heritage, your shared father had been quite the rake in his prime, and such actions birthed you, his bastard daughter with the power to harness the destructive powers of the sun.

It was baffling for you to comprehend why exactly Cassian was so worried for you when you had the ability to unleash heavenly fire across Prythian if you so wished it. That, and the fact that the bond had snapped for Cassian one evening in Day was why Rhys had lobbied for your presence in his court in the first place all those years ago, long before Amarantha.

Amarantha was intrigued by you, you were the only individual she wasn't able drain power from, your abilities were other-worldly, untouchable. So, she gave you an option, stay uninvolved and advise her or watch your brother perish before your eyes. You chose the former.

All you have is your fire. Use it.

Amarantha erupted into flames when she had killed Feyre, unable to free herself from the bindings you had chained around her limbs. She had screamed, gargled in fact as you stood behind her, hands at your sides and your mind ripping her apart from the inside out. Boiling and burning her alive. Fire danced through your hair, it burned brightly in your eyes, sunlight pulsed around you, a blinding thing, a warning to others.

Your power was not yours to gift, it was not for anyone else to yield but you, Helion knew as much and was stern as he told Tamlin that you were not to offer up any of your power to save the human girl in his arms.

That said human girl, Feyre, now your High Lady, had grown to be a very good friend of yours.

Rising from the depths of the cream silken sheets, you touched your rough cheeks, crying for hydration from the tears you had poured upon them for the eighth night in a row. The bond had gone cold by your own foolish wish, you had locked it off, you had refused any attempts of contact, and Helion had obliged and denied your presence in his court when Rhys and Cassian had reached to him, Helion had even gone as far as to plant a seed in Feyre's mind that you may be in Autumn since Eris was a good friend of yours despite his relationship with the Night Court.

Autumn was the one place they would have difficulty infiltrating, and Eris was more than happy to play along if it gave you some peace.

Eight days was the longest you had gone without Cassian, without anything flowing through the bond, without seeing him, without being wrapped up in his body as he fucked you relentlessly into oblivion.

It was exhausting.

The Day Court sun brought some life back to you, cascading her glow upon you and enriching your skin with her gentle loving shimmer. She had always doted on you, the energy she bestowed upon you was unmatched, and you often found her watchful eye following you wherever you walked, whispering to you always.

The sun had chosen you, her vessel, to right the wrongs of the world, and Cassian always chose to look over that fact.

Your home court was known for its elaborate fashion, the ornate gold jewellery and accessories that you had found wrapped around your hands and feet, and the halo crown caressing the back of your head. The dress you had worn held a solid gold bodice of intricate swirls that allowed your skin to peek out beneath it, that attached to a pale shimmering skirt, and golden chains draped across your collarbones and fell down your spine. It moulded to your figure perfectly.

You were not weak or jealous, or reckless, you were a child of the sun, a strong and formidable creature. No one, not even Cassian, could take that from you.

Cassian had been cursed out by every member of your shared family when he had arrived at the House of Wind looking like shit with a bag between his fingers.

He thought he was right. He thought he was protecting you. But after having his ass handed to him by Azriel and Rhys, and Feyre and Mor's stern words, and Amren's glare of pure disgust, Cassian knew he had fucked up.

Cassian had raced back to your shared home, one that was a harmonious myriad of light and dark, of sun and night, and found it solemn and empty. He had raced up the stairs, he had looked in your drawers and saw everything still in place, then he had headed to your vanity and inhaled sharply when he saw that the small picture of your mother had gone, which meant you had too.

Screaming down the bond, Cassian was met with a stone cold wall of rippling silence, and he broke. Cassian fell to his knees holding one of your dressed between his fingers, it still smelt of you, of hot salted ocean breezes and fresh roses, and he cried.

He had spent the next week trying to locate you, being turned away from every court, even Helion had no idea where you had gone, but had told Feyre that you may have gone to Eris, your friend, as you knew that would be the one place he couldn't get to you.

Rhys had demanded entry to Autumn, which Eris had refused with a sly smirk on the boarder, his hounds circling through his legs. Eris was enjoying Cassian's pain far too much and had the gall to quip, "She doesn't want to see you, Lord of Bloodshed. Perhaps you listen to her this time, considering you have a habit of refusing to."

A spit in the face of his love for you. Cassian had gone to step over the threshold only to be held back by Azriel, Eris' hounds were snarling and barking at the three Illyrians trying to enter their home, "You would risk war?"

Eris grinned, fixing the lapels of his jacket, "A war would take y/n from you forever. I don't think you'd be that stupid," he turned from them, whistling for his hounds to follow, "As long as she's here, she will be fine. I suggest you go home and mull over the ways in which you have failed her."

Missions were the only thing that would give Cassian the opportunity to relent his frustrations, his force was sickening, he broke the bones of their enemies with his bare hands, he ripped them apart with his own self-loathing fury. Azriel had never seen Cassian in such a state, he blamed himself for your disappearance, and rightfully so, any of them could have told him that you were capable of destroying him if needed, let alone anyone else. Though, Azriel didn't blame Cassian for trying to protect you, for believing that your bond could bring harm to you, Azriel would think the same if he were in Cassian's shoes.

"Cass, we do need at least one of them alive," Azriel followed his brother on his war path, he watched him in concern as he drove his sword through the hearts of many soldiers.

Bodies lay broken around them, blood coated the ground and walls, it was a monstrous sight to take in. Cassian's hair lay unbound on his shoulders, matted with sweat that coated his brow, his wings were tense as he swung, they shuddered in fear of his force.

Cassian grunted to Azriel, whipping his air away from his face and facing him with a dead glare behind his hazel eyes, "Fine," he smirked and sheathed his sword, motioning to Azriel to approach the singular male who was moments away from death.

Blood coated his lips, his eyes had dimmed, but he still wore evil like a brooch on his heart, he spat the contents of his bloody mouth at Azriel as he bent down to grasp him by the collar, "You're going to tell me of your plans to attack Velaris, you're going to tell me and I may spare you."

The male chuckled low and sinister, hatred blazed in his faltering eyes and he smiled, toothy, but blood coated the once yellow tinged teeth. There wasn't much time to get answers, "We're already moving, you're too late."

Azriel cocked his head to the side, "I'm going to need more than that. I can make this much more painful for you," Truthteller dragged across the males bobbing throat, he knew of the Shadowsinger, he had heard to rumours of his ruthless torture.

The males gaze flickered to Cassian who stood behind Azriel, leaning against the bloodied wall looking disinterested, "You can thank him for that," his finger twitched in Cassian's direction, "Do you really believe that your High Lord is the protector of your court?" The male leaned forward, "Your greatest protector, the most powerful being in Prythian, is no longer being hidden by your court. She is elsewhere, we have been watching her, preparing for the perfect moment to snatch her away. With her power in our grasp, we will be unstoppable."

Cassian felt panic settle in his soul as the male continued, bitterly laughing as he spoke, "Y/N. A child of the sun, back in her home court, ready to follow her destiny. You can thank your Lord of Bloodshed for accelerating our plans."

Azriel turned to Cassian with wide eyes, eyes that Cassian matched. It was never about attacking Velaris, it was about capturing you, using your power for their own tyrannical plans, bleeding you dry and taking your power from your body.

"Cass-"

But Cassian was already moving, turning on his heels and pelting from the room as fast as he could, flexing his wings to ready them for flight whilst calling out to Rhys to meet them at the Day Court Palace as fast as possible.

Cassian flew as fast as he could, he would never be able to forgive himself if anyone harmed you, especially when he had made it so easy for them to reach you. He had to find you, he had to stop it, he had to save you.

Helion growled at the intrusion of the three Illyrians entering his personal library that was three times the size of the library at the House of Wind, but his snarl faltered when he saw the frenzied eyes and the blood coating Cassian and Azriel's armour. He rose from his seat quickly, not having a moment to say anything when Cassian paced over to him, "I don't have time for pleasantries. She's in danger. Where is she?"

Helion noted the fire in Cassian's eyes, the way his siphons glowered dangerously in awaiting answer, "How do I know that this isn't some elaborate ruse to take her?"

Azriel stepped forward, voice low in warning, noticing Cassian's fists clench and his chest seethe with anger, "Our enemies have been hunting her, they wish to drain her power and unleash it on the world. We need to find her."

Helion's language shifted, he faced Cassian with equal fury, going toe to toe with the Lord of Bloodshed and bit, "If anything happens to my sister, I will end you."

"I will end myself before you ever could, now tell me where she is."

A wild wind bellowed through the open arches, enough for Helion to wince at the forceful impact. That wind swarmed through the palace, it was wild and cold, it was a warning from the world to run and hide. Helion fought against it toward the balcony, his locks whipping around in the tornado that had encased his court, his eyes focused on the forest in the distance and he pointed, "She's in there."

Then, from nowhere, bright thunderous light quaked from the sky as large spheres of sun fire raced past them and slammed into the ground below, where you were. The trees lurched with the impact, splintering and sprouting in differing directions, wailing at their demise, and the ocean dragged itself back to a safe distance. Fire rained from the sky, but the wind was too forceful for any of them to fly to you.

"RHYS!" Cassian bellowed to his brother, their eyes locked and he nodded, catching Cassian with a free hand with Azriel in the other, winnowing them to where they needed to be.

The scene was sickening. Trunks lay cracked and broken, simmering fire trickled along the earth that rumbled beneath their feet with each impact of fire that slammed against the ground. They couldn't see two feet in front of them let alone much else due to the heavenly light that emitted from you, but Cassian felt you, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he felt you.

Cassian felt your fury course down the bond, it was mixed with fear and guilt, and it lead them straight to you. In return, he threw all of his love down the bond as another sphere of your fire hurtled down through the sky, and he swore he could have heard you gasp and pause.

The light dimmed, and their eyes adjusted to see you in the clearing metres ahead from them, surrounded by bodies, some bloody and other burnt beyond recognition. A dagger was glued between your fingers and you let our a shaky exhale, like you didn't realise you had been holding your breath all that time.

The clearing looked more like a crater, a once plush area of wildlife that you sought comfort in was now a crater of ash and broken souls, and Cassian watched your cracked eyes survey your surroundings, hating what you had done.

Cassian rushed to you, slamming his body into yours and cradling you into his chest, "Are you alright?" He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands gingerly, wiping away the ash that had settled on your cheeks, "Speak to me, my love."

"I'm okay," your voice was hoarse and quiet, your eyes connected and he saw the tears pool in them along with the devastation that coursed through the bond, "I'm sorry. You were right-"

"Don't apologise," he told you, wiping away the tears that spilled down your ashen cheeks, leaving streaks of sunlight flowing down them, "I was wrong, so wrong. You don't need anyone to protect you, you aren't weak or jealous, you are strong and more capable of protecting yourself more than anyone I know. You are your greatest protector, not me. I'm so sorry, I was just trying to keep you tucked away and safe. But you've always meant to shine, I never should have tried to stop it."

"You were trying to keep me safe, Cass," your voice trailed off and you examined the scene, paying no notice to Rhys and Azriel at the edge of your crater, "What have I done?"

Cassian's fingers ran through your hair, "You did what you had to, alright? It's okay. If I hadn't pushed you away then none of this would have happened. I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry."

Your hands lay on his chest and you sighed, "Take me home, Cass. I can't be here."

Cassian had doted on you the moment you were back in his arms, he ordered Rhys to winnow you both back to your shared home whilst Azriel stayed to assure Helion that you were fine and in need of some much needed time with your mate.

The searing heat of the tub wound around your muscles and soothed the ache in your soul. The water was far too hot for Cassian to climb into, so he instead sat on the edge of the tub and washed your hair, picking apart the knots within it and allowed his large hands to unwind the bundled nerves in your shoulders.

When the water had gone cold, he lifted you from the tub and dried your limbs, he brushed your damp hair and dressed you in a thin nightgown, and not once did he stop apologising to you, not once did his lips stop peppering kisses along your shoulders and forehead.

You stood before him, needing much more than just sweet kisses and kind words.

"Tell me what you need," he had said when he saw the look in your eyes, one that radiated doubt but also desire.

Cassian stood still in front of you, his hands resting on your hips and you stood on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a searing kiss, one that he hummed into, allowing his hand to cradle the back of your head as he deepened it. Cassian had missed your lips too much.

Against his own building desire, Cassian gently pushed you backward, "My love, you're hurting," he didn't want to take advantage of your vulnerability in that moment.

"Do you love me?"

Cassian frowned, and let out a disbelieving scoff, "More than anything."

"Good," you pressed your lips to his again, pulling back slightly and peering at him through your lashes, "Because I need you to fuck me like you don't."

His cock twinged at the words and he closed his eyes, opening them to see you push the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders, revealing your peaked nipples to him as it fell down your body. Cassian knew why you needed it, you needed to feel something other than the pain of destroying one of your most sacred places, you needed him in the most passionate way possible.

"Are you sure?" Fire spread through him when you used his forearms as leverage to capture his lips on yours again, in a starving embrace, one that sent blood pooling to his cock that throbbed against his leathers in knowing that where it needed to be was only inches away.

Cassian walked you backwards until your legs hit the back of your bed and you lowered yourself onto the mattress. Fierce lust was laced within you, you propped you heels up on the frame and spread your legs to your mate, that feral animalistic need to be rutted filling the room illuminated by flickering candlelight.

Wasting no time, Cassian ripped his leathers from his body and fell to his knees before you, his muscles contracted in the golden hue of the room, he grasped your thighs and dragged you toward him, his warmth breath fanning over your core as he placed kisses down your stomach and in the creases of your thighs, making you suck in a shaky breath as he placed a final peck to the bundle of nerve that were aching for his tongue.

"I've missed the taste of you so much, my love," the movement of his lips on your skin made electricity course through you, the stubble of his beard scratching against your inner thighs.

Whining, your back arched when he drug his tongue up your slit, the groan emitting from his throat vibrating against you threatening to blind all of your senses. He smiled against your core, winding his tongue around your clit and sucking on the nerves, his fingers dug into your thighs to stop your squirming as his pace became relentless. Sucking, biting, and swirling his tongue in the ways he knew made you turn into a mewling mess, he pumped his cock in his hand to relieve the building pressure, to allow him to focus on you, his beautiful moaning mess of a mate completely at his mercy.

Cassian lapped up your taste, groaning in pleasure at it as he pumped his digits in you, pressing down on your stomach with his free hand to make that rough spot inside of you meet every brush of his touch. He noted the hitch of your breath and the way your fingers found his hair, pushing his face into your cunt, telling him how close you were from falling from grace. Cassian kept his pace, taking your throbbing clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it as his fingers hit that spot again and again until you were crying out his name and tensing around his fingers.

Your mate continued his tirade, pulling two more orgasms from your lips before his pace slowed and he removed his fingers from you. Humming, he sucked your juices from one of his fingers and then slid the other into your mouth as he hovered over you, his cock ready and weeping on your thigh.

He threw your clenched legs apart and nestled between them, "You can thank me tomorrow," he told you, no doubt alluding to the fact that your lips hadn't found his cock yet, "I just need you."

Without warning, he pushed into you, and his delicious cock stretched you out, you threw your head back and moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he lowered himself and captured your lips hungrily against his own, transferring the taste of you to your tongue. He moved, slowly at first, and you met his hips in the rolling rhythm he had created, then he became more desperate and picked up his pace, biting and sucking at the skin on your neck, no doubt marking it for everyone to see once he would allow you out of your bed after fucking you on every surface possible.

Cassian groaned into the crook of your neck, his fingers held a bruising grip on your hip as he slammed into you, the tip of his cock smacking against that rough spot inside of you, "I love you, y/n. I love you so much," his brows were furrowed, like he knew how much force he was using and had to tell you how much he loved you just in case he was taking it too far.

Panting, you replied, "I love you too, Cass. I love you," you were cut off by your own moan, your hands flew above your head encased in his own, he gripped the sheets and snarled and he pulled out of you and flipped you over, pushing your head into the mattress and growling as the tip of his cock teased your entrance again, and you took it in it's entirety, groaning so deliciously that it took everything within Cassian to not explode at the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock.

Cassian bent down, his fingers delicately wrapped around your throat and pulled you upright, his fingers stayed there, restricting your oxygen in the best way imaginable as he pushed up into you, sucking and nibbling on your earlobes and neck between his own rough moans of pleasure.

As long as you had Cassian, there was nothing else you'd ever need to feel fulfilled. He was everything, your life and death, your shoulder to sob upon, your cock to cum on. Cassian was yours, his soul belonged to you just like every fibre of your existence hung onto him.

"Stay. Don't ever leave me again," his voice was full of emotion in your ear as he fucked you into the whispering depths of the ocean that was your bond.

Cassian's free hand twisted at your nipples before travelling downward, resting atop your stomach and pushing your hips backward to meet his relentless thrusts, and you felt the familiar pressure building there, holding on wasn't possible when his fingers travelling further, finding your clit and tracing slow circles into the nerves, smirking into your shoulder as high pitched cries flowed from your lips.

"I'll never leave you," you were breathless, and you hardly felt him pull out from you as he pushed you onto your back again, throwing your leg over his arm and pounding into you until he began to falter. His lips found your nipple again, sucking and biting on the sensitive nub of skin, and his fingers continued to flicker over your clit, "Cass, please. I'm going to-"

"So am I," he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, "Cum for me, my love," Cassian pressed his lips to yours, capturing your orgasm in his mouth before releasing your lips to allow you to scream his name as that searing white heat consumed your entire body.

Cassian could have swore you began to glow as it consumed you, and you basked in that warmth, he basked in the clench of your walls quivering around his cock and milking him until there was nothing left to fill you with. Your mate fucked you through both of your highs, groaning your name and growling as he filled you, panting as he slowed his pace and lay on top of you.

In the comfortable silence, you found him staring at you with wonder, he hovered over you propped up on his elbows, tracing his fingers along your glistening skin, "What?"

Cassian smiled, "I want a baby," he admitted, "I can't stop myself from being scared about losing you, a part of me will always be terrified. But, what I can stop is myself holding back in the life I dream of with you," his hazel eyes scoured your face, and peace settled between you, "I want a product of us, of our love and strength. I want a family with you, a big family full of love and wonder and adventure where you have to tell me off after our fourth for wanting another," you giggled tearfully beneath him and he wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb, "The idea of losing you is my greatest fear, y/n. I don't want anything to happen to us, and I don't want us to be left with nothing if-"

"Cass," you cooed to him, pulling him from the devastating thoughts in his mind, "I want all of that too, I want the picket fence and enough children to drive Az insane. Enough cousins for Nyx for them all to grow up in their own inner circle and replace us all one day. I want a life with you void of sadness. I want you, forever, even when our day comes to leave this reality, I will want you and I will guide you to the heavens so that we may live in an eternity of love waiting for everyone we adore to join us."

Cassian pulled you up the bed and encased you in his arms, draping a thin sheet over your forms and running his fingers through your hair whilst you kissed his chest softly, "You found me in darkness and we made our own light. We burn brighter than anything that may await us," he kissed your forehead and gazed into your eyes, a smirk worked its way onto his face, "The sun has nothing on you, you know."

Authors Note

Daddy Casssss

Hope you love it! x

462 notes · View notes

ventique18 · 29 days ago

Text

~ For you, my love, anything. ~

Raverne x Maleanor with implied Malleus x Gender-neutral Prefect

"Why are you so weak?" The princess asked as she magicked her sword away with a flourish. "I am surprised you've not yet died in battle. One blow and your head could be plucked clean off your shoulders!"

She was clearly exasperated, yet her opponent in this mock battle, the young and newly inducted Duke Raverne, only laughed heartily while he sheathed his own rapier. "There are other forms of power, Princess. Have you ever wondered why I've never fallen? It's not because I'm as physically strong as you. Because there are,"

One step.

"a million other ways,"

Another.

"to make anyone,"

Another, and the princess almost took a step back. Danger. If he as much as laid a finger on her...

"surrender."

"Raverne, don't you dare--"

"Like peace talks!"

The man hopped backward; a merry lilt playing in his voice. At him bouncing on his toes like the usual dumb bird that he was, Princess Maleanor let out an exhale of relief. What was she even nervous about? This man was far too...

"Too kind. You are far too kind." She whispered, only audible to herself. Even if he somehow heard that as well, he didn't show.

Sighing, she started sauntering away from the training grounds. She motioned for him to follow, and he did. "By the way, did you hear? Rowland has recently perished."

"Rowland..?" Raverne's gaze fell to their footsteps, as if deep in thought. "Ah, the Earl."

"Yes. Have you an idea what happened to him?"

"Let me think..."

"Raverne! My good man!" The young Earl Rowland slurred; obviously intoxicated from the rows and rows of alcoholic drinks he had generously procured from the pub.

Raverne had accompanied him there at his request. Rowland had apparently decided on something huge that would change his life forever, yet the uncertainty in his mind had him cold in the feet and repeatedly putting it off like a coward. He had invited Raverne, the kindest and most empathic man in the kingdom, out for a drink or two with the intent of consulting his plans with him.

Rowland slumped on the counter. "My good man, my friend. We are both Fae of feathers and flight, so you might understand."

"What's this about?"

The drunk man sat up, as straight as he could in his state. His hands clenched and unclenched. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Hesitation. As if what he was about to say was as blasphemous as it could get. "You're aware my estate has fallen in hard times."

Raverne shook his head, "Friend, if you called me here to ask for financial aid--"

"So," The earl's voice suddenly rang clear; as if the very thought sobered him up. "I wish to ask for the Princess' hand. In marriage."

Silence fell across the room.

Rowland swallowed thickly, "So I wanted to ask what you think. You're an intelligent man, perhaps the brightest in the kingdom. If someone would know what the best course of action for anything is, that would be you."

Raverne's gaze slowly met his, but his emotions betrayed nothing but neutrality. No signs of empathy, but no signs of animosity either. "Does the Princess fancy you?"

"No, no-- I don't know. I've only met her a handful of times."

"Then why?"

"I don't even need to become her husband. I know she refuses to marry anyone. I could just be her... Her plaything. I could even become her pet bird! I just need her attention so other wealthy nobles would--"

"Friend." Raverne cut him off. "You've no need to humiliate yourself like this."

"But!"

"Here's what I think," the duke smoothly drew the earl's glass toward him and he began pouring some more wine. "When it comes to the matters of the heart, you mustn't think too much about it. That's why it's called the matter of the heart, and not the mind."

Raverne raised his own, and Rowland clinked it in reciprocity. The duke brought it to his lips, but before taking a sip, said with a smile, "Just do what you wish to do, as if it's the last day of your life."

Raverne returned from his thoughts. He shifted his attention to Maleanor while they continued their way to her rose garden. "I believe the coroner ruled it as alcohol poisoning, no? He had one too many drinks one night and failed to wake up for the morrow."

"Nonsense! How did 'one too many drinks' induce blood to gush out from all of his orifices?" The princess exclaimed. "My theory is that he was poisoned with corrosives. They said he was drowning in blood from his nose, his mouth, his..."

Raverne bowed slightly, taking a peek at her expression. "Do you... care about this man?"

Maleanor blinked. Then her face contorted into that of disgust, as if it offended her that he even suggested such a thought in her head. "Disgusting! I've no desire for weak men. If he's not as strong as I, then I do not want him."

"If that is your strict requirement, then I'm afraid you shall never marry, Princess. How unfortunate that your bloodline must come to an end."

"Pah! You said it yourself, there are other forms of power. If not in strength or magical prowess, then... Someone who..." Unconsciously, her eyes drifted to him. But when she found that he was watching her intently, so preciously, as if she was the only person to exist in his world-- why, she puffed her cheeks in embarrassment and made a show of loudly stomping away from his reach.

"Anyway, go fetch me some tea and biscuits. My good Sir. Duke Raverne."

He laughed, finding her childish antics positively endearing.

"For you, my Princess? Anything."

~~~

He returned from his thoughts.

He had been thinking of the past more than usual, lately. Did he miss her? Of course he did. But more than that, perhaps his thoughts were more excitement, rather than longing. Because his memories were no longer going to be a thing of the past, but of the future.

Of the continuation of his life with her.

"Please, let me go! Let me go!"

But first, he needed to take care of this irritation.

"Why are you struggling so much? Were you not living a worthless life before I saved you from that hell? Kind as I am, I even gave you shelter. Friends. Adventures. Now I'm offering you a greater purpose! Something only you can do."

The child whimpered. But they were not a child, were they? It was just that he had waited so long, far too long, that everything else in the world felt young to him.

"Bastard!"

The cage behind them rattled. He would have looked behind him, but he was afraid to look into those eyes. Those eyes full of hatred. Those same eyes as hers.

The boy just didn't understand. He was too young, inexperienced. He didn't understand his pain.

"Let them go! LET THEM GO!" The boy cried.

Painful. They boy's trembling voice was painful.

"Or take me-- just take me instead! Let me be useful for once!" The boy cried harder; his voice cracking in desperation.

He didn't dare look at the boy. Instead, he put his energy in carefully drawing the runes beneath them. Just a bit more, just a bit more... "I'd rather sacrifice the world than you, dear."

"Then take the world! Take everyone! Take everyone else! Just... Just not them... Not them..." A sob.

Painful.

"This is the only way." He answered, as emotionless as he could muster. "She needs a vessel with a lost soul. A soul with no connection to this world. A soul with nowhere to return to.

"Your mother needs this child to live, my son."

"Stop, stop this!"

A few more inches.

"Don't do it!"

A few centimeters.

"Please, please stop this!"

Soon, very soon, he would see her again.

"I'm begging you! I'm begging you!"

He would see her smile again.

"FATHER!"

"For you, my love, anything."

------

Commentary: I suddenly had the thought of what if? Raverne is actually a lot more evil than Maleanor ever was. It's just that he was so smart, so clever, that nobody caught on. This fic was just supposed to be a comedic exchange lmao but I liked the idea too much so it turned into a short fic.

#twisted wonderland #raverne draconia #maleanor draconia #ventique rambles #malleus draconia #twst yuu #malleyuu #dire crowley

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arsonlookers · 7 months ago

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Hi! I had just finished the penacony story quest and umm came out with random ideas….. PLUS after listening to White Night I-

I was wondering what you would think about an AU where time slip is possible and that Yan! Aventurine lost reader (idk how in what situation😭😭😭)

but like yea….

N then like he just literally time slips back to the past before he lost them and like gets super protective???

Idk like I'm-

Omg help idk but like yehhhh

Oh My God your a GENIUS!!! Imagine an au like that!! But let's give it a twist shall we 😉

IN ANOTHER LIFE YOU ARE MINE

YAN! AVENTURINE X READER

Yan! Aventurine in his first and original timeline falls in love with you but keeps it a secret relationship because there are plenty of enemies he made in the way who wanted to hurt you just to hurt him. So he keeps his distance from you in public and in private he is just so clingy and SO loving but in recent times he has just become more distant from you after meeting the trailblazer not only he is a million times busy and with dealing with his past he also started to become more interested with this "FRIEND" of his the trailblazer.

So he spends less and less time as it goes on and you are just so lonely whenever he is not even planning to go home. Or he just kind of ended up ignoring you when he comes home because he is exhausted from all the drama. [he just needs time poor baby]

But then one day an accident happens to you, an accident he never expected, and will forever regret. Of all the people in that accident you his very beloved partner were the only one who perished the most and died alone.

"aventurin-" were your very last words you only wanted to see the love of your life one last time and at least be able to say goodbye to the person who saved you and made your life worthwhile...

BREAKING NEWS!!

the news states the attack was from a man who lost in a gamble storming out from the casino with pent-up anger and ended up venting his anger to a poor woman a passerby who was the first person he spotted to look so weak so he attacked her and stabbed her 10 times to vent his anger because of the lost.

After hearing the news Aventurine can't believe what he is hearing and dashes immediately towards your location. just outside of the casino he was in right now.

in front of the lobby there he saw a group of people gathered in front of the entrance cameras and all.

he never is the type to jump in the scene but this time he jumps in the crowd to look for you to believe that it is not you and you are safe, to hope and in his luck that YOU are safe.

In his mind he is already panicking, sweat going down from his forehead and hands shaking non-stop he can't even control it. Inside of his mind were all prayers and all begging to keep you safe from every harm that past these people you are safe and sound.

But past the one last person he pushes aside instead of your sweet smile and a hug of comfort.. all he sees is blood.. blood everywhere his eyes tremble his bones are about to give up as he looks at the body in front of him there lies you wearing your favorite dress that he gifts you in your anniversary... a sunflower dress being splattered and filled with red blood still running down from your dead body.

and with that is the very last straw of his sanity.

He comes close to your body, and his eyes behind his glasses start to water, overwhelming emotions bearing him and tying in his throat restricting him from breathing and making his heart beat as if being chased by a killer or worse death wanting him dead. and maybe it is better to die right now he thought.

just the sight of your back and your dress being soaked in your own blood was horrendous and worst sight he had laid his eyes upon.

everything was so slow yet so fast at the same time. You were taken away from his grasp and then the next you are being sent away to be mourned by your family. But you don't have a family. he is your family. the one and only family. but because the two of you are still not married and just dating/ engaged he cant have you ... he cant mourn you... And the worst part is he has all the money and power but mourning you, He cant even DO THAT?! He have all this for you for HIM but why? why? WHY?!WWHYWHHYWHYWHWYWHY?????? WHY?!WWHYWHHYWHYWHWYWHY???WHY?!WWHYWHHYWHYWHWYWHY??? WHY?!WWHYWHHYWHYWHWYWHY??? WHY?!WWHYWHHYWHYWHWYWHY???

everything in his mind is starting to crumble as he starts to drink and gamble his life everything is on the line yet he just can't die. HE IS JUST TO LUCKY TO DIE. THEN WHY??? WHY DO YOU NEED TO DIE??? WHY YOU??? was all he can asked day in day out in his life. when he comes home all he can remember is YOU every memory every furniture everything reminds him of you and he just cant he might loses his mind more if he stays more than a hour a minute in once your shared house.

After everything he just cant take it anymore and goes to your house drunk and just starts calling your name waiting for you to respond.

"Yn~ baby~ ! Im home! " He calls drunk inside the house falling flat in the entrance and everything. He closes his eyes and All he can think and hear about is how warm he feels the house is clean and how you will be coming out of the kitchen and calling his name so lovingly.

"aven! Aven! AVEN!" how you will call his nickname how sweet your voice sounds like at first it sounds so far away and now he feels so nostalgic how you shake him the same from all those months ago when he comes home drunk.

He wants to stay like this ... if he can he wants to stay like this forever hearing your voice calling his nickname ...

"more. more call me like that moreMORE MOREMORE "

"KAKAVASHA!!" was when he opened his eyes and bolted his eyes from the voice that called him

and here presents you... in your glory and in your lovely apron. that says 'HAPPY WIFEY HAPPY LIFEY~" It was cheesy but it looked so perfect for you.

"vasha!! are you ok!? " you grabbed his face and all he could feel was how warm you were not cold and wet as he last remembered.

before he knew it tears drops one after the other in his eyes.

"aventurine!! hey come on are you gonna leave me hanging and worried?? did someone beat you? Are you ok?" You grabbed him for a hugged and rubbed your hands in his back

and all he can think is how warm you are how nice it was to feel your warm body against his and how you smell so good. and then he just thinks that he wants this to last forever, he doesn't want this to end, he doesn't want to go back to that dark place. he doesn't want to go back in that nightmare ever again.

Feeling all these emotions he hugged you and started to bawl his eyes out and hugged you tight as if you would be gone in a matter of seconds now.

you can't really know what is going on with him but it truly is rare to see him like this and this time he needs your comfort and love so instead of breaking the hug because of it being too tight You instead hugged him tight and comfort him with your words and back rubs

"its ok, aven, its just a nightmare . shhh its fine , its fine Im here now, Im here" As you keeps your gesture and kinda calm him down his gripped unto you was still on and tight but not that tight.

That is until he falls asleep.

"cute aven" you say as you pinches his cheeks before moving him to your shared bedroom.

Aventurine woke up and just in a panic he searched the room he cant see you there so he rushed down the stares and searched for you outside he was screaming your name and on the verge of crying again. that is until you called for him from the kitchen.

"morning darling!" You say as flipping the pancakes and smiling at him from the kitchen wall.

and there aventurine was feeling relieved that you weren't just a dream.. and even if this is a dream of a hallucination he don't care all he cares about is you and him in this time together eating your pancake and you in front of him smiling happily.

AND AFTER SPENDING MORE AND MORE TIME as he starts to notice that he was in the past a year before your tragedy he promises that he will. HE WILL. PROTECT YOU.

may it caused of his death he dont care he will never ever EVER going to see you in that state again.

WITH out you knowing he actually in this timeline he did kill your killer after he tracked him down so that he wont be able to do the murder again. Aventurine puts more in security and becomes more and more clingy since then.

But one thing he will put first. HE ASKED YOU TO BE HIS WIFE This time he will never ever gonna regret pausing to make you his wife. This time YOU ARE HIS WIFE.

He wont ever EVER FACE ALL THOSE HAPPENING AGAIN. He wont ever make you feel sad and distant and he wont make you regret saying YES to his proposal now that you are going to be his WIFE.

He will plan the wedding immediately.

HE WON'T WASTE ANY TIME ANYMORE HE ALREADY WASTED A LOT OF TIME IN THE PAST HE won't MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE.

Suggested warning!!

and fckng his wife should be the first priority right~ so he does~

Every night and every possible day he has been so horny to the point of fcking you in every possible place in the house on your dates in your backyard, and even in his office. EVERYWHERE

IN THIS LIFE YOU ARE HIS AND NO ONE CAN HAVE YOU AND TAKE YOU AWAY FROM HIS GRASP AND IN THIS LIFE.

[this is the birth of the most possessive and overprotective yandere aventurine who loves love LOVES you very much ]

ARS: Donee!! damn anon thank you for the idea! but really I was not gonna make it since been busy but I guess my writer brain just turns on immediately thinking about the plot and how i would write the story I wish it was to your liking anon! I wish this is how my brain would work in my exam wow that finished within one hour hahaha anyways have a great Day!!

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ponderingmoonlight · 9 months ago

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Gojo Satoru Masterlist

Multi-Chapter Stories

How you ended up as Gojo's fiancé in a fantasy tale masterlist Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

Opposites Attract Being the daughter of the Zenin clan made it your mission to defeat him. Him, Satoru Gojo, the honored one. Him, who makes your life a living hell. Him, who begins to get so much more than your curse...

One Shots

Touch her and you'll burn Your boyfriend Gojo goes berserk after finding out that Toji kidnapped you.

You saved me After Suguru tried to kill his former girlfriend, Satoru is there to cure your depression.

She is my weakness While you are on the brink of death through Suguru's hands, Satoru realizes just how much you really mean to him.

A word of power When his wife is sent to missions over and over until it visibly gets to her, Gojo decides to do something against it.

Lies in the dark You boyfriend Gojo cheated on you with another woman, leaving you heartbroken. Did he, though?

Keep doing it Satoru loves coming to your office everyday to finally win your heart. But it seems like you're more subborn than he thinks.

Having to share a bed with Satoru Gojo at a love hotel ... no words needed.

Golden girl Satoru Gojo really hates everything about you, especially the fact that you are stronger than him. Is it even possible to get along with you, let alone like you? (Spoiler: yes)

The heart wants what it wants 18+ The farewell of your boyfriend Suguru left a wound so deep that it seems like no one is able to fix it. Is the Satoru Gojo, who's secretly in love with you, able to pick your pieces back together?

Promises you can't keep When Sukuna realizes that you did not only break your oath to wait until he returns back to you but married Gojo Satoru after 1000 years of him waiting for you, he goes insane.

Don't touch her Gojo going berserk when you get injured by a curse

Gojo eavesdropping on his wife when she's talking about him While you kept your relationship with Satoru private, you always admire him when you meet at work. However, when your students ask you about your type in men, you can't help but describe the love of your life who hears every single word

Gojo recklessly flirting with Choso's little sister at Shibuya After being set in Shibuya to distract and exhaust none other than Satoru Gojo, Choso's little sister soon learns that the rumors about his charm are true.

Gojo teasing the heck out of you after realizing you get flustered by his eyes After working with smooth operator Gojo Satoru for years, he slowly but surely began to realize what your true weakness is: his bright blue orbs. And he wouldn't be Satoru Gojo if he wouldn't use that against you...

Gojo's and (y/n)'s son wanting to marry (y/n) no words needed

Gojo going nuts when his students don't believe him that you are his wife When Satoru wears his wedding ring for the first time in front of his students, Nobara can't help but wonder who he's married to. But when Gojo confesses it's you, his students just don't believe him.

Gojo getting flustered by his sweaty wife and smacked at their training session Your beloved husband never fails to beat you without mercy when training together. But this time, something seems to catch his eye - your chance to finally hit him with your best shot.

Megumi accidentaly calling Gojo's wife "mum" no words needed

Gojo calling (y/n) a burden to keep her safe Despite the fact that Satoru Gojo was the one who lifted you up and gave you the confidence to go on your very first solo-mission, it was also him who shattered your confidence in order to keep you safe.

Gojo's wife showing her maniac side when it comes to protecting her precious students (Part 1) Despite Gojo's wife spoke vehemently against sending the first and second years on a way too difficult mission, the elders decided against her suggestion. Her calm and collected self changes drastically when she makes them regret their decicion...

Gojo's wife going berserk in order to protect her students (Part 2) Like your bad feeling already suggested, especially Toge's and Yuji's lives hang on a threat when their mission doesn't go as planned. Good for them that Gojo's wife and their teacher rushes to their side and shows everyone just how much she cares about them.

Gojo's girlfriend being there for Shoko when no one else is Shibuya brings even a strong and collected woman like Shoko down to her knees. Especially when you, the only person who seems to truly care about her, ask her about her well-being when your boyfriend just got sealed....

Gojo dressing up as Santa for his girlfriend, Megumi and Tsumiki Satoru Gojo expected a lot of things, but not his girlfriend and two rescued kids making fun of him after he put on a Santa costume only for them.

Gojo being your enemy (or lover?) Your family told you over and over, pounded it into your head since childhood: Satoru Gojo is your enemy, you are simply not allowed to feel anything but hatred towards the Gojo clan. But why do you find yourself lost in his arms each and every night, begging him to love you right?

Gojo buying (y/n) souvenirs after every mission and finding out she kept EVERYTHING Since your joyful smile is so addictive, Satoru can't help but buy you a souvenir every time he goes on a mission. After a few months, he realizes by accident that you do, in fact, keep everything he gifts you...

Geto's little sister finding out her husband got sealed by her big brother You thought you lost him forever, your big brother. Until Shibuya brings you back to reality, until your beloved husband gets sealed by none other than your dead big brother. Until you show your enemy what you're made off...

Gojo's wife supposedly getting executed by kicking ass instead When Sibuya is finally over, you find yourself facing none other than the elders who want to execute you. Little do they know you are no one to be messed with, that even without your husband by your side, you are a true threat if you want to...

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Gojo's and (y/n)'s daughter buying a prom dress for her mum because she never had one When you told your little one about the fact that you never got to wear a prom dress, it was clear for your husband and daughter they needed to change that for your birthday.

(y/n) comforting her husband after he was forced to kill his best friend The man who seems goofy all day, who never takes anything serious breaks down in his wife's arms after he killed his best friend.

Satoru Gojo trying to make bun with his daughter's kinky hair It always looked so easy to him, the way you put your thick hair into the most breathtaking hairstyles. But when his daughter asked him to do a sleek bun on her, he was confronted with the stinging fact how difficult styling kinky hair can be. But that doesn't stop the dad of the year from learning... (POC reader!)

Reader going from being Gojo's lover to being his worst enemy You were always the perfect girlfriend for Satoru Gojo: innocent, quiet and weak. Until something inside you snapped. Until you decided you don't want to be weak anymore. Until you realized that Satoru Gojo isn't your lover, but your enemy...

Gojo's daughter insisting on him brushing her hair because he's so gentle You are pretty suprised when your daughter insists on your husband brushing her hair depite the fact that this is normally your job. Until you find out why...

Reader finishing Gojo's missions for him when he's sick and he finds out When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way…

Realizing your true feelings for Gojo when he stands up for you You told yourself countless times that you aren't able to like Gojo Satoru, that he is nothing but a jerk. Until he stands up for you, until he shows you what he really thinks of you...

I Love You When I Drink Champagne In the late hours, with champagne in hand, Gojo’s teasing fades into something deeper. Beneath city lights and whispered confessions, you begin to wonder if his midnight promises mean more than he’ll ever admit in daylight.

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astarioffsimpmain · 1 month ago

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Cozy Up with: Raphael

[Autumn Photography by: coldoctober]

[Raphael Photography by: @tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Author's Note:

Most people wouldn't consider Raphael to be... well... "cuddly." But the cambion has his moments!

You shivered, still feeling the icy grips of death shooting through your veins as your body recovered from blood loss. You blinked, your sight fuzzy and swimming, and glanced around. Deep maroons and mahogany wood surrounded you. You were in a bed. The plush comforter had nearly fully enveloped you, and it would be difficult to move. Your muscles felt sore and stiff, and the weakness in your limbs was staggering. ‘What happened to me?’

“Ah, you've awakened at last.”

You knew that voice. Panic gripped you. Raphael. Had you died? Were you here to pay your eternal debt? What was he planning to do with you? You wriggled in the bed, moving so little that it caused your panic to rise and your heart hammered in your chest.

“Come now, Little Mouse, your body has not healed well enough to be thrashing about.” There was a tone of amusement to his rich, deep voice; he had you right where he wanted you.

“I-Is it time? Did I fail?” You stuttered quietly, your body slowly succumbing to your fate and relaxing back into the soft mattress.

“No. You have not failed yet.” The devil replied, walking to the side of the bed so that you could see his face. What you saw sent your thoughts spiraling wildly in confusion. He was in his human form, his hands clasped behind his back, and his face void of malice. He smirked at you, but it held no anger.

“I… I don't understand,” you said, watching his expression shift to one of bored indifference.

“Your companions were foolish enough to leave your scrolls in camp. You were dying, and I could not have my favorite client perish before our deal had been completed. I returned you to my House of Hope and remedied the matter. You now rest in my Boudoir.”

You blinked. He saved you? Gods, he really did want that crown. A bolt of icy cold ran through you all of a sudden, and you shivered violently, your teeth chattering with the sudden impact. “T-Thank you,” you muttered, curling into yourself to attempt to get warm.

“Fulfilling our deal is the only thanks I require, Mouse,” he replied, crossing his arms. You nodded, shivering again, and he let out an exasperated breath. “Mortals are so fragile,” he scoffed. You caught a glimpse of light in your peripheral vision and let your head flop back to the side to look at him. He had shed his human skin and was now in devil form. He stood at least three feet taller and red, leathery skin stretched over protruding veins, with massive bat-like wings dwarfing even his large frame.

He waltzed out of your vision, but moments later, you felt a dip in the bed on your other side. Your immediate reaction was to try to escape again, and you tried to wrench your body up and away from the devil, but with a single hand, he pushed you back down with ease. “Do try not to undo all of the effort I made in patching your feeble form back together,” he chided with some obvious annoyance, and you went limp immediately, thinking it better to let him do what he wants than to anger him in your current state.

He huffed in approval and pulled you back towards him. Only then did you realize how warm he was. Your cold body shuddered at the searing contact, and you let out an unintentional sigh. “Yes, that is the idea, Mouse.” He was amused again. You heard the lilt in his voice. Suddenly, a leathery wing covered you and enveloped you in warmth. His strong arm wrapped around your stomach, and he tugged you even closer, your chest meeting his. You laid your palms against him without thinking and hummed as the feeling began to return to your fingertips. You felt yourself dip into relaxation, all the soreness slowly leaving your muscles.

“Sleep,” the devil commanded quietly. “You will feel renewed when you wake.”

You nodded, too groggy to make any kind of protest, and nuzzled closer to the heat of the devil's skin. Belatedly, you noticed the smell of sulfur, subtly eclipsed by the alluring scent of cherries, sinking into you as you drifted into a peaceful, comfortable rest.

fin

Tagging: @knightofmight01 @micropoe10 @just-a-refrigerator @fanon-and-canon

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #cozy up #cozy up: raphael

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mr-ys-phantasma · 17 days ago

Text

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14. - Chapter 15

Chapter 16. - Chapter 17. - Chapter 18

Word Count: 1786

Chapter 18:

After you healed the boy, you all helped put him down on some leaves and let him rest; waiting until he would wake up to check up on him once again.

There was no hurry to move to the next trial, and after the tiring trial, you all finished, rest, and a break sounded good.

While the witches settled down and started to gather ingredients for a fire, you chose to go find Agatha; who had not let the boy's side, showing everyone a far more sensitive side they did not have her for.

Except for you. You knew she had it in her, simply hiding beneath sarcasm and the fake persona of an evil person; a defence mechanism to protect her already wounded self from further harm.

Your steps made faint noise against the wet ground and dead leaves, drawing her attention from the sleeping teenager.

"Hey," you greeted softly, as if approaching a baby deer.

"Hey, sugar" she greeted, doing her best to hide her worry but you easily saw right through it.

"He will be fine, you know" you said as you sat next to her, shoulders touching against one another. "My magic is not that weak"

Agatha offered a weak smile. "I know it's not. It never was, " she commented and glanced at the sleeping boy. "Thank you again. I know you don't like taking such risks"

You gently nudged your shoulder with hers, earning her attention. "Well, someone once told me; there is no fun in life if I don't take any risks"

She could not help but crack an amused smile, remembering the many times she had told you those exact words.

She took a good look at you at the same time, remembering the young girl she had taken under her wings all those years ago.

Back then, you were more innocent and shy; often hesitating to show your magic or use it, afraid you would be judged or make a mistake.

It took a lot of effort from Agatha and patience to make you trust her enough and listen to her. Then, you truly had your fun with your shenanigans, your crazy plans, and ideas.

Of course, you also got into plenty of trouble, but Agatha never let you feel guilty about what happened.

You did not speak anything else for a few minutes, enjoying the silence and the fact that you were next to each other. Agatha, even, leaned andrm rested her head against your shoulder; your presence always having this supernatural energy that calmed her down.

Sometimes it was what she needed, when her own mind was torturing her with thoughts and scenarios. Sometimes, it was what she craved when she needed to stop for a moment and breathe; think carefully of what she wished to do next.

And sometimes... it was what she feared. Being so quick to let go of her defences and open up to you, being so willing to lay in your arms and sleep; without worrying, you might harm her while she rests.

She feared feeling vulnerable and attaching to you, for you might as well turn and betray her one day or perish and leave her with another crack on her already wounded heart.

As if feeling the turmoil of emotions within her, you dared to spread your hand and hold hers; fingers interlocking into a secure grip. Your thumb gently caressed her skin, and you noticed the soft smile that formed on her face.

However, despite that sweet moment between the two of you; you had to speak up, and you had to take the step.

"Ags" you started gently, earning a faint humming response from her. "This boy... who is he? The sigil is not your design"

Agatha took a moment to answer, clearly debating everything in her head. "I... I don't know, honestly. I just feel like I know him"

You frowned faintly. "You think he might be Little Nicky?"

The nickname left a bitter after taste in your mouth, being so long since you had called her son that way.

It was a nickname you had come up with when you first met, and you had used it a few times for the time Agatha and him spent time with you. Then, out of the blue, Agatha had to leave and took the boy with her.

You had declined the offer to join, thinking it was not a good idea. Now, you regretted it.

You had no idea what happened to the boy, but you felt that had you been present, had you joined back then... that boy might still be alive.

Agatha pulled her head from you, an instinctive reaction to block any affection when she felt a wound reopening. However, she kept her hand locked into yours; offering the faintest of hope.

"I... I don't know, " She confessed, leaving a heavy sigh. "I mean... he could be, right?"

Considering she never told you what happened to him, you were not exactly the best person to answer that question. But you could see that Agatha needed closure; she needed reassurance.

So, you dared to play along. "Maybe" you lied.

It was then a faint groan let Teen's lips, earning your attention. Immediately, Agatha was on alert; letting go of your hand.

You stood up, choosing to let her have her time with the boy.

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

You did not walk astray, always remembering what would happen if you did. However, the Road gave you the feeling you had walked quite far; time being a mere illusion to you now.

You came to a halt, suddenly feeling on alert, but your gaze never stopped looking forward. Your hair at the back of your neck stood on end as a familiar presence and voice seemed to come directly from your own shadow; choosing to approach you from your most blind spot.

"Why the sour face, baby?" Rio asked, her hand slowly dragging itself across your back, making you shiver.

"I don't have a sour face," you argued, taking a few steps forward to remove her hand and put some distance between you and her.

Sometimes, it confused and infuriated you how both your magic and your body were reacting to Rio's presence.

You finally turned to face her, back in her normal earthy colours. "You did before. I guess the situation between Agatha and the Boy is not sitting well with you, " she said, her word sounding slightly more comforting and sincere, rather than the mockery you would expect.

Tired from everything, you could not help but sigh. "Come on, you can't tell me it doesn't sit odd with you," you said, and suddenly, something popped up in your mind.

You slowly walked towards her, steps condifent as there was this gleam in your eyes; one that akwsys intrigued and challenged Rio.

"I mean." You started, never breaking eye contact with her. "You made it so clear that you saw me as an obstacle between you and Agatha. Who says the boy isn't one as well?"

Perhaps it was wrong, to try and throw Teen under the bus that way. Perhaps you would regret it later on, considering what Rio was capable of. But you could not help it.

You had nothing against the boy, but perhaps you were tired of letting Agatha and everything slip through your fingers, always too afraid to tighten your grip and hold them there... hold them with you.

With the way the Road was going, you realized this might be the last chance for you to actually be brave and take the step... and that's what you were intending to do.

Rio watched you as you halted in front of her, neck craned up faintly as you stared deep into her dark eyes, no sign of fear; never fearing her, even when you first met.

"Because the boy is not hers," she replied.

Her gaze was not mocking, and neither was prideful at that moment, opposite of what you expected of her. Instead, you swore you saw regret in them; something you had rarely seen in Rio.

"How do you know?" You asked quickly, trying to save your futile attempt, but the moment the words left your mouth; you felt like an idiot. "Of course you do know," you sighed.

You felt her hand gently caressing your cheek, going as far as to gently push some of your hair away from your face and neck. The move was gentle, careful, and yet her cold skin made goosebumps appear on yours.

"You should be wary, baby girl," she started, taking half a step closer. "The way you are heading, you will get hurt again"

You focused on her, trying not to react or focus too much on her touch; which you swore was slowly growing bolder. "Only if I choose to stay behind but I don't have such plans. I am done being a coward," you confess, your voice threatening to crack by the last sentence.

"You are not a coward for doing what was expected of you," she cooed, words so sincere and caring you would not believe would come from the same witch that came through a freaking grave. "You are not meant to be here, Y/N."

You frowned at the certainty of her words. "What? Why?"

Rio didn't answer your question, holding back the answer you suddenly needed. "Join me, instead. Let me show you what you truly are meant to do."

Those words made you have a sense of dejavu, unlocking a memory locked at the very back of your mind.

The very first time you had heard her say those words, you stood between corpses of men; tired and blooded.

They were dead, and she had come to collect, having also enjoyed your magic outburst that ended your tormentors. Your magic was glowing and flowing wild, bright white eyes staring at her form.

She had told you those exact same words back then, trying to lure you intl trusting her; into giving in. You fought her at first and even later you never truly accepted.

Though you will admit, her lessons and influence had rubbed on you; helping you with your magic but also making you more careful of her 'true' nature.

"You and I are nothing alike" you managed to comment, feeling your self restrain getting more and more lost thanks to Rio's touch; that had moved towards your tie and threatened to take off some buttons from your white shirt.

"Aren't we?" Rio smirked, eyes landing on your parted lips as her hand stopped moving; fingers holding the side of your upper arm to ensure you would not move away.

Before something could take place, someone cleared their throat.

Chapter 19

#agatha all along #sweet Agatha #fluffy agatha #caring rio #jealous reader #agatha harkness #agatha spoilers #agatha fanfic #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #moon phases fanfic #marvel #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #rio x agatha #rio x reader

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inknopewetrust · 4 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭 [Part One]

Summary: When the longevity of sin is threatened by the factions of a feuding family on the brink of war, a choice must be made to protect the secrets of a heart torn in two. [ser erryk cargyll x targaryen!fem!reader] [wc: 10.7k]

Warnings: minors dni (18+ only), smut, angst, mentions of death/war, themes consistent with show, spoilers for the show (season 3).

quick links: masterlist | this is a love letter, albeit a sad one. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. @zaldritzosrose for banner source.

There is no duty without sacrifice, nor reward without submission. In a world as cruel as this, you often pondered in wilted daydreams of a world at peace.

As golden springs and chilled autumns once brought virtue and good fortune, the hallowed corridors of Dragonstone in the middle of a long, bleak war brought nothing but a faded memory of the past.

The halls whimpered with the martyrs it kept.

And the phantoms snickered at those in wait and the sacrifices one makes for the duty of their house bears scars on those left in their tormented wake.

Night fell with a deep, dark shadow lingering above. A hand gripping the castle as the maids scrubbed the blood from the chamber floor of the Queen.

He was dead.

And you felt a piece of you die with him.

“Sister,” Rhaenyra spoke but her voice was distant.

In an echo chamber of your mind, the noises funneled around you. A heavy weight of air pressed upon you as your hand picked at the wooden edges of the chair beside the fire.

“Leave us,” the Queen spoke to her guard and Elinda quietly.

The door shut behind her and in careful steps, she could see your eyes trained heavily on the spot now covered in a yellow rug. Toys remained from her young boys which struck the shell of her own heart with a fury.

Death lingered in Rhaenyra’s chambers and there was never a moment to mourn. A war roars on the mainland in her name; people perish in acts of heightened emotions and sacrifice puddles even the strongest of soldiers.

“Sister,” she cleared her throat. “To what—“

“When Harwin died,” your voice was hoarse from a weary day, “did you mourn the man you loved?”

Rhaenyra halted behind the settee. Her hands settled to trace its carvings.

“I beg your pardon?” She inquired.

You were lost in a haze of self destruction. Lost within yourself with a haphazard will to move on. Hours had passed, mere hours, and those on the council that sit around a painted table forget the tragedies that have befallen a great house in a matter of weeks.

You mumbled incoherently and Rhaenyra furrowed her brows. She seldom saw you blink in the light of the fire; the waterline of your eyes pooled with tears. One slipped down the cheek closest to her.

She had watched you absent in your own mind as dirt filled the grave in the early morn. It should not have come as a startle that those feelings remained.

“I fear I do not know what to do with myself,” you whispered. “I-I d-do not know what to do.”

“What for, sister?” Rhaenyra approached as she would her smallest child. “You needn’t do anything at this moment.”

She took a seat on the cushion and reached for your hand. It barely brushed your own before something snapped. A arrow shooting from its bow, breaking your stupor and sending you out of your seat.

You removed yourself from the chair and stepped away from her. Your hands shook as your lip trembled.

The death that grieves in isolation swells. Ribbons of torment become suffocating, choking until awoken with a shake.

“I do not wish to be alone,” you all but wailed. “I’ve been alone for so long, so long…”

“Do you speak of sleep? Or, or marriage?” Rhaenyra drew confused. You had been adamant for years, threatening your life and title to remain a spinster the history books would forget.

The Virgin Princess, she imagined the books may speak of.

You let out a weak, strangled laugh at her. Eyes cutting and red, she felt the tremors of Harwin’s pain bubble inside of her. It made her uncomfortable in her skin.

“I loved him, Rhaenyra.”

For the first time, you saw your sister truly look at you.

And she did not see her elder sister.

She did not see the girl, simply two name days older, who was fond of reading and politics.

She could not see the girl who would beckon Rhaenyra to braid her hair while recalling stories of Old Valyria and the conquests of their ancestors.

She did not see a now grown woman who sought independence; someone who tried to subvert the traditions of a name such as the one you shared.

Rhaenyra saw a widow.

She spoke your name softly and you shook your head at her.

“I loved Erryk. I loved him so.”

Rhaenyra let your confession sit.

“I followed you to Dragonstone,” you spat. “I left the only world I’d ever known to remain in your court because you’re my sister, Rhaenyra. But this place,” your eyes trailed along the vaulted ceilings and the wet stones. “This place has done nothing but bring us suffering.”

“Sister,” Rhaenyra sat forward. “We all make sacrifices—“

“No!” Your voice raised as tears fell consistently. “We are weak, Rhaenyra! This would not have happened if we had been prepared!”

“You speak as though his choice was my fault.”

You let silence fall. Diverting your eyes away from Rhaenyra, she felt a grip on her heart go numb. You believed it to be her fault.

“My grief,” you closed your eyes to darkness. “My grief pokes holes in the agony of my life. It heaves within me for a purpose that is not there and I do not know what to do with myself because of it. He is gone. He’s gone, Rhaenyra. I loved him and he’s gone.”

“Is that why you have never agreed to take a lord husband?”

You nodded your head and sank down on her bed.

“Did you truly love Harwin Strong?” You asked, following it with an awkward chuckle. “I find it to be quite amusable that we two daughters loved men in the cloak.”

Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I did.”

“And when he died, did you grieve him as I do Erryk?”

“I did.”

“But you have a memory of him; pieces of him always with you.”

She never spoke aloud the paternity of her sons. Rhaenyra was not daft in knowing people knew, but even to you, her dear sister, she never spoke of it.

Rhaenyra did not shy away from having Harwin keep a long distance between their children. She had seen you and Harwin get along well in the presence of her children and often wondered what the world would be like had she been able to marry him in place of Laenor.

Everyone would have ended up in a much happier place, she believed.

“I do," she whispered against the dead of night. "I do, yes."

"And I will never have that," you stressed. Gaze more frantic than before. You shook your head at the thought. "I never would but I still wanted something to be mine. For me to hold and love and cherish but there is nothing I can do now but sit and ponder the "what ifs." But at war, I am not meant to dwell on them."

"Yet here you are, asking about them anyway."

That dreaded silence fell between you once more. It did not escape her that the lives of innocents were at stake while this war met on the steps of each great house. Her son, Helena's son, good men, and kind women were killed for nothing more than fodder.

It was moot; the tragedy of errors.

“I loved him,” your repeated. “I loved him dearly.”

"Tell me," she tried to offer a tight-lipped smile. "How did it begin?"

"Oh, Rhaenyra," you bemoaned. Sniffing and trying not to focus hard on the spot where he fell on his sword. "I do not-"

"But I would like to hear it," she got up and joined you at your side. Rhaenyra took one of your hands in hers. "I do not wish to hear all the details, however."

You envisioned him in your memory. His eyes, smile. How in the shadows of your chambers he was a different man than he one who served your father, your sister.

He was magnetic and quiet.

Erryk was a lover and a fighter.

You laughed and she smiled. "There was something about men in the cloak..."

"I would have to agree," she said. Her eyes gleamed with a memory of Harwin. She loved him. "Dutiful men indeed."

"It felt so scandalous... but he served me."

"In more ways than one," Rhaenyra blushed and you knocked her shoulder with the back of your hand. She had given birth to five children and still remained a form of pious when broaching the subject.

Your tears still fell but Rhaenyra felt the joy of love bloom.

“I was simply jesting,” she started but you gave her a cutting, mischievous glacé.

"Did you not say you wished not to hear of it? Do you want me to tell you all the details? He was quite good, you know? A very fine fuck indeed."

"Oh Gods!" Rhaenyra laughed loudly and for once, you forgot the pain. "Please, spare me of it!"

“He was b-“

“Please!” She spoke your name in a shriek. “I do not wish to think of you in that way!”

"You truly did not know of it?" You questioned her in a striking bewilderment. You never thought yourself to be shroud in secrecy but surely someone had to have noticed your folly in his presence.

He was your father's, then her own, sworn sword.

"I had my suspicions on occasion," Rhaenyra admitted. "It was Harwin who first spoke of it. I did what I could to protect you. It was not long after the wedding. Harwin said he had crossed paths with him," she smiled sheepishly, "though he was not sure of which twin at the time."

Rhaenyra heard a small intake of breath from you. You squeezed her hand.

"But it happened more than once. The happenstance was too peculiar to not think of it in that way, sister. But Harwin was the one to believe it was Erryk. After a while it became easier to tell them apart and he appeared sure."

"I truly did not think it that hard."

Rhaenyra gave you glance of disbelief yet you had been serious.

"Laenor favored him, as did Harwin. That is why I knew he could be trusted. Not only as a fine Kingsguard but with my sister's heart as well."

"Rhaenyra," you sighed in kindness. A tear from your eyes dropped onto your intertwined hands.

"Harwin spoke of his candor. How devoted he was. Yet he broke an oath for the sake of his honor."

"As we all do."

Rhaenyra hummed and thought of her own indiscretions for the sake of love. How Daemon had taken her to the Silk Streets at the same time you were discovering womanhood with one of the Kingsguards. A peculiar life; one caged and riddled with power.

"I would have married him... had he wished to break his oath," you admitted to her and the sheen in your eyes returned. Kingsguard were only released from their duty in death. "But the Gods had other plans it appears."

"I do not doubt it," she replied in turn. "Do you think father knew of it?"

You shrugged your shoulders in indifference. "I fear the Hightower's may have. Even more so now. It takes much to strike a Dragon so deeply. Surely their motives were amplified when he deserted their cause."

Rhaenyra nodded, looking at the children's toys on the rug. She wanted to find the good in the gloom.

"Tell me of him. Tell me of the Ser Erryk I did not know."

“Rhaenyra…”

“Please,” she nearly begged. “Let us find a happiness. As you spoke there had been nothing but pain. There is a part of you that I do not know of and I wish to know now.”

You were not sure when to begin.

The first time you met? The first time you spoke? Those times were trivial and basic. She did not want to hear of your scandals in detail but you could start at the night where it changed. Where womanhood came to you in a way you were not expecting and the wine settled too deep in your bones.

You should have known it was doomed to fail because on that same night, a man died at Rhaenyra’s wedding feast.

But you were too wrapped up in Erryk’s arms to notice that evil lurked in the Red Keep.

The wedding of Rhaenyra and Laenor was no small affair.

It was said that an entire week was to be planned full of tourney's, feasting, and ending in the penultimate betrothal of your sister to your cousin, Laenor, who had all but been absent for the entirety of both your childhoods.

He knew nothing of her but appeared kind.

As the drums beat and the violins soared in the great hall, the two-to-be-wed danced a traditional Targaryen dance that entranced the scope of the room before the guests who dreamed of dancing on the same floor as the heir to the throne joined them.

You sat at the table as Alicent conversed with her uncle in the corner and Daemon squandered his late wife's relative with the pad of his thumb. You downed your goblet of wine as Gerold Royce backed away in embarrassment and Daemon smirked in victory.

“Do you not feel sorrow for your late lady wife?” You asked Daemon who’s look always reminded you of being hunted.

“We were not fond of each other. So, no, I do not.”

"You are a cunt, Daemon," you cut. Your father made a noise of objection and Lord Hand Lyonel Strong choked on his wine.

Daemon laughed. He spared you a glance before turning it back to where Rhaenyra was dancing.

You knew of her infatuation with your uncle. Her eyes kept darting to the table as if no one would see.

Viserys muttered your name in dissatisfaction.

"Brother," Daemon snickered, "it is fine. The Princess was just expressing her admiration for me."

You scoffed as a squire refilled the goblet to the brim. The wine spilled over and the young man went to make apologies but you brushed him off with the wave of your hand.

The wine was gone faster than it had taken to refill it.

"The ire may lay elsewhere I inquire," Daemon gave a smoldering squint of his eyes. "Tell me, good niece, how it feels to be second in a tourney where you have always been first? Seeing the heir of the throne marry before you?"

"You overstep, Uncle," you cut.

"But I am a cunt, remember?"

You sat back in your seat as the air around you became uncomfortable and suffocating. Alicent returned with a strained greeting to which she received nothing in return from you.

It perturbed you that a girl, years your junior, had become your stepmother.

The squire returned to fill your cup but nearly spilled it over your hand as it covered the top of the goblet.

"Squire," Daemon's playful voice was etched with a sinful glee. "I do not believe the Princess needs any. She needs something a bit more sturdy to lift her spirits." He motioned with his pointer finger up to the sky lewdly. “A good fuck would do you well.”

"Daemon," your father spoke and Alicent looked away in a rose-colored blush.

"All in good fun, Brother," Daemon defended as he said your name in a question. The squire escaped quickly from the table; the music changed in the room and the dancers from noble houses joined at a more jubilant pace.

Lord Lyonel eyed the floor as his son, Harwin, danced with Rhaenyra.

Daemon leaned into Lyonel's personal space with a quiet voice.

"Have you been to the Silk Streets, Princess?"

"Daemon!" Viserys ordered loudly. His voice caught the attention of the Velaryon's at the end of the table. "I will not have such talk at this table on this day! It is my daughter's wedding!"

"Of co–"

"It's alright, Father," you turned to him as the weakened look on his worn face became more present. "I believe the eve has gotten the best of me."

Rising from your seat, Viserys objected and Alicent latched herself to your hand.

You felt an evil burn your skin.

"You mustn't go," she pleaded on your father's behalf. "It has only just begun."

"I assure you tomorrow will be a much better day," you told her and wiggled your arm out of her grasp.

Viserys sighed in defeat. He scoured the room for Ser Criston to escort you to your chambers but you had not allowed him the chance to speak. You turned away and stepped down from the risen floor and towards the exit to the left of the Iron Throne. In his sight, Ser Erryk caught his attention.

He could only tell the difference because his helmet had been removed.

"Ser Erryk!" Viserys barked.

Ser Erryk had been a Kingsguard for near three years with his brother, Ser Arryk, alongside him. They had been nothing short of loyal to Viserys in the time since their joining.

"Your Grace," Erryk stopped before the King as he turned around and pointed to his eldest daughter's escape from the Throne Room.

"The Princess wishes to retire," Erryk turned his head to watch you disappear beyond the archway. "Please escort and stand watch until Ser Thorne can return to his station outside of the quarters.”

"Yes, Your Grace."

Erryk did his duty and followed obediently after you. Daemon remained laughing quietly as the reminders of you were left. Wine on the table, a plate untouched of food grew cold as the night wore thin.

You traced your hand along the stones of the hallways of the Red Keep. Ancient and sturdy, the ancestors who crafted these corridors knew not of the stories they would tell; how much each turn of the stone would witness as the years passed and the shadows became ingrained in its pattern.

The wine you had been drinking began to catch up with you.

It had been not more than three cups and you felt flushed and warm. Still with your senses, you felt angry and jolly at the same time.

Yet the frustrations of your family still lingered heavier. You felt the steam roll from your shoulders, loosening itself into tendrils of anger as the sounds of jubilance became faint and the halls became darker and filled with the candlelight of night.

You continued to walk in slow steps as the weight of tiredness fell upon you.

Sounds of armor approaching caught your ears, nonetheless.

You breached the foyer of the grand staircase and turned to rest against the stones. Hands grasping the corners behind your back, you looked down the golden hallway to the armored guard approaching.

"Ser Erryk," you acknowledged as the light illuminated his features before you.

You felt the danger dissipate from your body.

"Princess," he spoke. His accent was notable among those who rallied between common-folk and high-born in the Crownlands.

In the years he and his brother Arryk had served the crown, your paths have crossed. They both presented a fine and reputable record of loyalty and devotion to the cause.

They were good men. A rarity, in the world as you lived it.

But Erryk had always captured your attention more than his brother had. Taller and more attentive to your sister and yourself, he had always caught your eye. You wasted countless minutes of your life simply looking at the knight in hopes that he would look back.

You had memorized his face in a matter of seconds.

"May I ask why you are following after me in such a haste?"

"Your Grace has asked me to escort you, Princess," he continued his approach without explicit permission.

As he came into a closer view, you took stock of the man. A strong face with determined eyes; lips plump and shoulders square yet fitted by the silver of his armor. He had a mole on the left side of his cheek above his lip.

He was beautiful. You were not sure you had ever seen a man with such refined beauty before he had joined the Kingsguard some three years ago. In the times his eyes caught yours in the midst of the chaos of your house, your opinion did not change.

You felt your heartbeat pulse faster.

There was something alluring about his eyes. So focused and intent on the subject upon whom he was speaking to, the unwavering devotion of his trade ever present beyond the armor he wore.

"I see," you muttered. "And what of Ser Thorne? He sees to be my escort often."

"Occupied, Princess. It is a busy evening for the family."

Erryk used your title in a way the others did not. He held it in such high regard, you felt.

You hummed and turned back toward the direction in which you were headed originally. The stairs loomed in the darkness like a warship approaching its moor. The wine that had settled let a small chuckle escape your lips.

"I do wish there were magic in these walls, Ser Erryk. Then I may simply float into bed and there would be no need to leave the nice party."

Erryk was not sure how to respond. He knew you not to be a silly woman. The eldest of Viserys' daughters had always appeared to him to be attentive and near motherly in the wake of Queen Aemma's death.

In the times he had spoken to you, you never feigned such girlish impulse before. It was new. And it surprised him.

Therefore, Erryk took his own leap of difference.

"Princess," he caught your attention and in the light, he wished he had never taken the oath.

Your eyes gleamed with such delight; pupils blown wide from what he deduced to be the wine of the evening and lips plush and slightly parted. The bodice of your gown fit every curve and plush part of your skin in an entrancing way that sent his mind to the places he neglected to attend to.

He knew of what the men in the Kingsguard did. He listened to the conquests of his brothers, both blood and by sword, while he refined himself to his oath.

But his heart nearly stopped at the sight of you. It had never happened before.

He felt ashamed for feeling such a way. For him to imagine what it would be to feel your skin above and below your skirts, listening to the soft sounds of content as he let his lips draw new patterns on your collarbones.

You were a Princess. He should not have such thoughts.

"If I may speak plainly?" Erryk asked you and you nodded for him to continue. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet.

"Dragons exist in this world. I do not see why magic could not exist as well. There are whispers of such people amongst the townsfolk. Though, I cannot say their rumors are true.”

The sides of your lips began to quirk up into a smile. "Yes. I suppose you are right about that."

You smiled at him and he could not look away. The sides of your eyes creased in delight in regard to the silliest of items: a childish want to be lifted into bed because your feet were too tired.

It was not often that a naive nature still remained in adults.

"Do you not wish to return to the celebration?" You queried. “I saw even Ser Harold tap his feet at the music.”

"I have a duty to you, Princess. The celebration will not miss me."

Erryk did not miss nor question the way your eyes flicked between his lips and his own eyes. He could not resist the urge to do the same to you.

You wet your lips with your tongue in a small jut. Your top teeth tug the bottom lip in before releasing it gently. Attention falling to the chest of his armor before you blinked in a rapid succession and he felt your body radiate a warm sensation.

You pulled the back of your hand to your cheeks to sense the heat.

“My,” you said breathlessly. “I seem to have let the wine get the best of me.” Sheepishly looking down, your gaze returned to him with doe-like admiration.

He felt the blood rushing. Erryk swallowed his nerves.

“It does happen, Princess.”

Your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage—you felt as though it were going to explode.

His eyes were piercing you. Dim in the light of the hall, you could barely decipher where he was truly looking but you felt the stare. You could have felt it a million miles away.

“Ser Erryk—“

Gustily, he cut you off. “Erryk, Princess. You may call me Erryk in confidence.”

It was your turn to swallow the nerves that built up in your throat. You observed him again and in the way he stood. An arm limp on his side while the other held onto his sword tightly.

There was no fear, nothing helpless within you.

Your curiosity painted what his hands looked like under the white gloves. How strong and handsome they must be to match the face of the man. You wondered how they’d feel pressed against you; holding you in ways no woman should wonder.

The feel of them on your breasts, the way they’d play differently than your own in the dead of night.

You released a staggered breath from your nose and he caught the shake that emitted from your chest.

“Erryk,” you clarified your previous mistake. "Please use my title sparingly, then. I wish to be informal when able."

"Of course," and he tried your name on his lips for the first time.

For the first time, you felt at ease.

"I've never asked, but do you enjoy the Kingsguard? After all that is asked of you, your brother, and those in the cloak?"

"It is a honor," he stopped himself short of using your title. "I cannot envision a life outside of it."

To be one of the seven to protect the family was the most profound honor. Only the finest of knights were bestowed the honor.

"I suppose you do get to sleep in the most grand of castles," you quipped.

"And you? Do you like being the daughter of a King?"

Erryk observed the way you pondered deeply. Even if he spent every waking minute with a family of high stature and of the utmost importance, he would never truly understand the perils that came with great privilege.

"Would it be silly if I said no?"

"No," he shook his head. "There are many who wish to be you, however."

"I do not envy them," your gaze saddened at the prospect.

"What is not to be envious about?"

"Freedom... or the lack-thereof it."

The wine was making you feel all sorts of ways that evening.

"Freedom," he reiterated. "That may be more rewarding than both of our positions, Princess."

You narrowed your eyes at him to which he returned with a sly, small smirk and his own look was playful. Erryk was subverting your expectations beyond a reasonable doubt.

Your heart leapt at the idea that he was dallying with you.

You were both young and engaging in a fools errand.

Down the corridor from which you originally came, footsteps began to heighten. You could barely make out the silhouettes of more guards making rounds.

"I wish to retire to my room, Ser Erryk," you called out loudly enough for those to hear.

In an instant, a wall had gone up between the two of you and the wine was drained from your body. Erryk offered his arm in the way a Lord would as you conquered the steps one by one.

The guards surpassed you by changing their route and following down another corridor as the two of you made it to the middle landing of the grand steps.

"Oh," you feigned in their absence.

"There was nothing improper of our conversation, Princess," Erryk reassured you.

Everything and the Gods were improper for a high-born lady–even one unmarried and passed over as an option of heir.

"I know," you replied, feeling the cold metal of his armor simmer the heat of your palms.

You continued up the stairs with him and did not let go once the journey was complete.

"Do you see me a spinster, Ser Erryk?" You asked him and once more, he found himself a loss for words in your presence. No other high-born lady would give conversation so willingly. Yet you always had in your short meetings together.

“Spinster?”

“I am a few years beyond my sister. I am unwed and untethered. Not ideal for a husband to seek, no matter if my father is the King.”

"I do not believe it appr–"

"I really do not mind," your face concentrated on the passage of doors and miscellaneous objects littering the living quarter hallways. "You are not a stranger."

"Nor am I a friend," he felt the need to clarify.

"Then what are you?"

You stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to look at him. The skirt of the dress twirled and scuffed his hand. His fingers twitched to grab onto it.

"I am a sworn member of the Kingsguard, Princess. I have a duty to your name, to the crown."

"And such forsakes you from being a friend?"

Lust.

"Do you wish me to be your friend?" He asked boldly.

In the same moment, a rumble of thunder roared through the sky. The open courtyard that found itself in the center of the wing of the keep whirled with a ruinous swirl.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing voiced itself into words.

“I do not believe that would be appropriate.” You completed his previous sentence.

The earthy thunder echoed in the sky.

"What would be appropriate?" Erryk tested the waters.

He sensed the colors of his white cloak becoming sullied by his own greed. He took a step forward as the rain began to spill from the clouds above.

"My young sister is to be married," you cautioned. "Before I am to be and I–"

"I cannot take a wif–"

"No," you shook your head and sighed. "I do not wish to marry."

"Princess."

"I do not want to be the wife of a Lord twice my age. I want to make my own choices."

Erryk saw the determination in your eyes. He and Arryk had the same as they left home and declared themselves to be willing trainees for the Kingsguard. They gave everything to live a life of stewardship.

"The guards spoke of your abstention," Erryk admitted. "How you abdicated your inheritance and now Princess Rhaenyra is heir to the throne."

"I am clear of the understanding that you cannot take a wife, nor bear any children. I do not seek that either."

Erryk breathed in deeply. "What do you ask of me, Princess?"

Your observances were flicks of nervous ticks. The way your gaze was scattered across the hall; shades of gray became wet with rain and the fires that lit the way began to waver.

"I fear I ask something the Gods deny me."

Freedom.

The two of you stared at one another for seconds before you turned away and returned walking in a wade of self-destruction.

As the rain poured heavy, chaos erupted in the Great Hall as it did in the quarters above. Erryk looked to the sky through the pillars of stone to listen for a sign.

The Gods rumbled in fury.

But Gods be damned.

The clang of his armor filled your ears faster than the force of his hand encircling around your bicep and spinning you around without much warning. His other hand grasped the bottom of your jaw, filling the space of your cheek and brought his lips impatiently to your own.

You could not hear the rain when time ceased to move.

Erryk's hand let go of your bicep and wrung an arm around your back to meet the top of your dress' bodice. His fingers gripped the back of it and you could feel the fabric of his gloves itching against your skin.

The giddiness of the anxiety that had formed with you made your hands shake. They found purchase on his chest plate. Erryk's thumb caressed your chin and then exchanged its position to the back of your head.

You broke the kiss in breathlessness before he brought his lips to yours again.

Your body buzzed without thinking.

There was no returning to the therebefore.

Not a year into Rhaenyra's marriage to Laenor did she give birth to her first son, Jacaerys, who appeared more like a common boy than a Targaryen.

In the following years, another boy was born with the same complexion and you questioned it not as she had come to you nine months prior and declared her third pregnancy happily.

It was an unkempt secret.

It was also one that you were fortunate not to share.

Ten years to the date of the wedding, both your and Rhaenyra's lives were inexplicably changed. Your father's condition worsened to where it was a battle to walk from bed to door. Alicent's ascent into her own form of motherhood rivaled Rhaenyra's as you kept your distance the best you could.

Alicent made efforts to get to know you better as an adult but you saw what she was. She was a devil disguised as a saint.

She was younger and tried yet to replace what your mother left vacant inside of you. You ignored her with what snide nature the Gods had granted you as you had gotten older.

It was your solitude that kept you sane as the keep grew louder.

That, and the life you kept in the shadows. Though, your nephews did bring a smile to your face.

"Jace!" You shouted with a laugh as the boy stumbled in the courtyard. His wooden sword went tumbling out of his hands after one strike from his brother, Lucerys.

They were so little and innocent.

"You must hold onto it if you want to be a great knight!"

"I was!" His little voice argued back as he went to pick up the word and Lucerys lifted his fist in victory.

Ser Harwin Strong stood on the sidelines of their small battle circle as you took a seat on the bottom step not far from their escapade. The yard was full of workers and knights, both those of the Kingsguard and City Watch.

"Not strong enough, My Prince," Harwin gave him a stern glare that sent Jace into a rigid stance wanting to prove his worth.

The boy was ten yet he wished to be a knight at that very moment.

"You must listen to your Aunt if you want to be a good knight," Harwin pointed at you to which you shook your head, scoffing at his words. "She has fought many a battle; can swing a sword as furious as an axe!"

Harwin laughed as you rolled your eyes.

You could see why Rhaenyra loved him. Why she would risk her entire being to bear his children in absence of Laenor's.

"You lie!" Lucerys accused him.

Harwin knelt down beside Lucerys. "I jest, My Prince. But you should know," he leaned his face closer to his sons, "your brother has a weakness..."

Harwin's voice went quiet and Jace put his arms up in defeat. You went to stand but as you gathered your skirt in your hand and went to push upwards, a hand was presented to you.

You looked up nearly blinded by the sunlight that peaked through the clouds and was met with Erryk's face.

He too had changed over the years.

His hair long was reminiscent of the Targaryen tradition of not cutting it so long as they remained the winner in battle. A beard now flocked his face in full but his heart remained the same.

"Princess," he mumbled as you took his hand, lifting yourself from the stair.

It had been two days since your last meeting but for both your hearts, the beat had not changed since the first night.

"Ser Erryk," you greeted. Lost in yourself, you neglected to drop his hand. "Thank you."

"I bring news. Princess Rhaenyra has begun her labors," he alerted you. “She has asked for your presence.”

You looked to Harwin and the boys, the prior already staring in your direction, eying Erryk with inspection. You dropped his hand in an instant.

"That is wonderful news," you replied with a kind smile. Erryk scanned your face for a sign of dejection at the admission. You noticed he had been doing that as of late and it irked you.

Harwin approached in heavy, quick steps.

"Ser Erryk," he greeted with a nod. "Are you to train with the boys today? Ser Cris–"

"I would not call this training," you clarified. The boys were but 10 and 6. "Play fighting may be more applicable."

"I came to tell the Princess that Princess Rhaenyra has begun her labors, Ser Harwin."

Erryk watched as Harwin's eyes contorted in a way he knew nothing of. A sliver of hope, joy, he was not sure. But it changed the way he felt inside.

"May the Gods grant the Princess good will," Harwin declared.

"Yes indeed," you added. Harwin glanced between the two of you as Erryk's eye-line focused on Jace and Luke putzing in the dirt.

“The Princes’ are most excited to meet their sibling. They have talked of nothing else for the past few days.”

“Speaking the truth, Ser Harwin,” you chuckled. “I pray it not be another boy for her sake. I do not know if she can handle such behaviors.”

Lucerys began to hit the ground with his stick in hard, deliberate strokes.

"I should distract the Princes then," he spoke lowly. "Thank you, Ser Erryk."

"Lord Commander," Erryk bid Harwin farewell as he walked back to the boys. Jace was occupied hitting the wooden sword on his feet and Lucerys came running towards the two of you.

"Ser Erryk!" The boy called jubilantly. "I took down my brother!"

"Oh?" Erryk responded in kind. "A very fierce battle ensued, I am sure."

"Yes! And I will do it again!" Luke smiled at him and it made your heart grow three sizes. “I wish to be a fine knight as you are, as Ser Harwin is.”

“One day, My Prince.”

"Luke," you looked down at the boy to which he put his small hand in yours. "I think it is time to choose an egg for the babe.”

The small boy's eyes lit up like a holiday. "Do you think so!?"

"I do," you squeezed his tiny fingers. "Go to your brother. Tell Ser Harwin that he must take you and then return you to your chambers once the egg has been collected."

Luke hugged at your leg tightly before running off to his brother with a screech.

"Take me to my sister," you told Erryk. "I must be with her."

"Of course, Princess."

Every corner of the keep was filled with spectators as the news of Rhaenyra's labors filtered through the castle. Erryk walked steadfast on your heels as your pace became more quick with noises of her strain making itself known.

"Gods," you said exasperated by her shouting.

"It will be alright," Erryk reassured quietly.

“I am inclined to say you have never seen a labor.”

“No,” he said quietly as you passed a guard walking in the opposite direction. “I have not had the privilege.”

“Far from a privilege, Erryk. It is gruesome.”

As her labor chambers came closer with your steps, the fewer guards and people were permitted in the hall.

"The Septa's once told us that boys were never easy. I fear this one will be a repeat of before."

"A boy?"

Without thinking, you replied: "the genes are far too strong."

But Erryk knew what you meant because in the corridors behind the walls of the keep, Harwin and Erryk had crossed paths in their escapes on more than one occasion.

He spoke your name and pulled at your arm to come to a stop outside of her chamber door. You could practically feel her pain emitting from the wood.

There were no guards standing watch outside of the door which you knew was the fault of the Queen.

"All will end well. Rhaenyra will see it to be true. Your sister is a hearty woman."

You nodded at him. "I know it to be so."

And you planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"Come find me tonight," you pleaded. "I wish to see you."

"I will do my best, Princess," Erryk glanced down the hall before cupping the back of your head and kissing you tenderly. "I will do my best."

"Oh," you gasped. The breath had been taken from your lungs as your airway cast a shudder. One of your arms around his shoulders, hand snaking itself to cradle the nape of his neck under his hair while the other hand danced along the side of his face and its thumb traced the line of his lower lip as a set of trembling pants melted together to make a seamless one.

Erryk's hands, worn and calloused from a day's work, trailed the sides of your body and traced the curve of your hips to your thighs. His grip wavered between the harshness you had craved for and his gentle mask.

“These days,” he grunted, teeth clenched tightly together as his jaw flexed with concentration, “have been unforgiving, Princess.”

It had taken him five days to find time with you after the birth of Prince Joffrey.

And so much had changed in those five days.

You lifted yourself up in a rhythmic careen as your heart began to pound against your chest. His eyes seldom left your face. Erryk watched for every bated breath and each staggered exhale while his hands helped guide your hips in genteel rolls.

Between your legs, the feel of his cock was slick and hot. Entering in and out, in and out as he helped try to ease the burn of your thighs working toward elation.

Your hand fell from his face down to his arms. A ghostly light dusting to meet his right hand that had been assisting your movements.

Loosely bringing his hand to your mouth, Erryk’s lips parted as you covered all his fingers with your own except the middle, and brought it to your lips. You kissed the pad of his finger gently.

As you kissed his finger, you lifted yourself from his cock to the tip. He waited for the cool air to hit but it never came as you sank back down and opened your mouth with a mewl as he filled you again.

At that moment, you took his middle finger into your mouth and wet it with your tongue.

He could not speak. For his words were lost in the warmth of your cunt and mouth as your tongue swirled around his digit with a wanton pant. Erryk let his head fall to your chest; lips lingering on the skin of your breasts with nipples taught and pert beckoning to him.

Erryk’s other hand loosened from your hip and grasped your left breast. He palmed the skin before squeezing and letting his palm run over the nipple. You sucked on his finger a bit harder at the sensation.

The hairs from his beard scratched your skin in an insatiable pattern. It was familiar in an exact moment where the past was no more and the future was everclear.

You wanted it memorized. You wanted it traced upon your body.

He tilted his head lower to latch onto your nipple before letting go with an audible “pop” against the lewd sounds of the room. It was morning but the whispered breaths of lovers and the sound of their coitus woke with the rising sun.

You released his finger from between your lips and he lifted his head. His eyes met yours and they glimmered with the same refractions of light one gets as the sun peaks between curtains.

His heart was as large as the sea.

“Lay down,” you wet your lips and held his hand no different than before.

Erryk used his free hand to keep you steady as he laid back on the bed. He bent his knees and planted his feet against the duvet to give you leverage.

“As the Princess commands.”

You bit back a smile. The butterflies in your stomach never ceased to exist.

With your hand eclipsed with his own, you guided his now wet finger down to your clit and he needed no further instructions. The pressure of his finger felt like a lightning bolt shooting through thunder. You gasped as your legs quivered in delight.

And then you smiled fully. Erryk smiled in return and Gods, did you feel the world open up before you.

You placed a hand on his chest before leaning down to kiss his lips still quirked upwards in a sheltered grin. The ministrations of your pleasure not stopped at the joy.

Erryk laid back against the ends of the pillows and watched you lift yourself back up, hand grasping his wrist of the hand to your clit, and began to move faster. He could not help but become entranced in the way his cock disappeared in your core. Your tightness aching for him as it became more slick every passing second.

You breathed in deeply. A hitch in your timber sent his eyes back to yours and you rolled your body deeply—feigning coy in the smoked out candlelight. He could not his gaze roaming the way your breasts moved with every bounce.

The sun was rising behind you.

Enchanting or entrancing, he was captivated as always by his royal woman.

With his hand on your hip, he raised it to trace your spine and felt your muscles begin to shake. Bumps on your skin from his touch made him groan.

You faltered and leant forward. Hands now planted beside his face, your eyes met his own and Erryk gave a small nod. He removed his finger from your clit and ran both hands up your back as you laid your weight on him.

He held you tightly and began to move his hips at an aching pace. Your eyes closed as you hummed in content. Erryk let his face fall beside yours, mouth beside your ear.

"Is this alright, my darling?" he barely whispered and you smiled, he could feel it.

"Yes," you gasped. "Yes."

He laid a kiss on your earlobe in response. With your eyes closed, you could feel bursting colors inside of you. You imagined them swirling behind you eyelids in intertwined wisps of reds and pinks. Yellows of happiness adjoined with the blues of bliss.

In the years you laid together, Erryk was not one to speak loudly nor much during those times. He admired you in its absence. Watching and waiting with bated breath of what pleasure would bring you and he to follow.

It was when he held you close that he felt the oaths he sinned against were foolish.

The touch of a woman, the touch of you, brought him a fantasy he'd never thought of chasing.

You inhaled deeply, legs shaking as he worked you to your orgasm with precision. You turned your head to capture his lips with yours; swallowing his groans when you utilized the last bits of your strength to move your hips at his actions.

Crying out as your body jolts, your right hand snaked itself into the hair that fell on the side of his face.

"Gods," you whimpered. There was little more you could do to hang on.

Erryk's low grunts matched his thrusts the faster they came.

He gripped the back of your thigh and brought your leg upwards, changing his angle. Your shoulders tensed at your growing inability to hold on. A string was snapping inside of you, waiting for it all to be enough.

And at once, it became enough.

You tilted your head upwards with a high-pitched gasp; the sound elongating the second he felt your muscles tighten around his dick and loosen a second later with a fury. He continued to thrust through your tremors. The jerking of your body erupting his own orgasm and with three thrusts, his breath became staggered and wanton.

Against his chin, you rested your forehead uncomfortably to gather yourself. A droplet of sweat beaded from your breasts pressed against his chest and to his skin.

As he recovered his own breathing, a hand of his own rubbed careless lines on your back. Erryk could feel the pulse of blood rushing to your center. He took his hand away from your back and brought it to your face to turn it to him.

Your breath was hot against him as he was certain his own was against yours.

"I apologize," his voice had grown ragged. He spoke softly yet you could hear the hoarseness of his throat. "For not fulfilling your request."

"Come find me tonight," you pleaded. "I wish to see you."

"No," you brushed back hairs from his face. "It warrants no apology."

Erryk sighed deeply. You moved a finger to trace the edges of his beard lightly. He looked at you with a furrowed brow. You pressed a finger to the worrying crease.

"What worries you, my love?"

He appeared hesitant to speak freely in that moment. The comfort of guilt had been eating at him as of late. Act that soiled his cloak in sin, he had forsaken his duty to chase what he had denied himself for so long.

It was the evening chatter amongst the Kingsguard as they sat for supper that churned in his stomach.

"I do not worry," he answered. You did not believe him.

"Your face tells different story, Erryk."

"Do you regret this arrangement, Princess?"

You stopped your movements and locked eyes with him. Just as your heartbeat had started to slow, it picked up again at a rapid pace.

"I– " you paused to find your words. "Where might have gotten that impression?"

"No impression," he clarified. "It was simply Princess Rhaenyra's children–"

At the mention of your sister, you lifted your hips and removed him from you with a shallow shudder before rolling to your side and sitting upright in search of your dressing gown.

"I do not wish to speak of my sister while I lay with you," you informed him. It had never been a subject discussed in the decade of knowing one another. "That is the last person I wish to think of."

"I do not mean it in that way."

"Then in what way do you mean?" You gathered the gown from the floor and put it on in rapid movements.

"It is no secret that the King continues to search for a Lord Husband befitting of your status," Erryk spoke as he sat in the bed you shared. "I never imagined–"

"What?" You drew defensive immediately.

Something deeper lingered inside of you. He knew nothing of the matter.

"When I swore the oath of the Kingsguard I did not imagine being the one who stands in the way of the King's desires."

"He does not know, Erryk. I stand in his way. I refuse the proposals."

"Because you love me."

"Yes!" You exclaimed. "I told you that I wished to carve my own life with what little power I do have of it. This," you stuck both hands outward to him, "is that power."

"And if he were to find out, my fate would be far more severe than being exiled to my homelands."

Ser Harwin left yesterday morning at the instruction of the King.

Rhaenyra would not see anyone in her quarters for hours.

You did not question his comment.

"Have you found someone else to warm your bed?" You asked an impossible question. Erryk let the sigh of disbelief pass his lips.

"I would not inflict such pain on you. Do you truly question my devotion? After what I risk to love you?"

A piece of you constricted with the knowledge you held. How this was likely your last morning together for some time and you were leading it to a deep crevice of spite.

"You question my own devotion for what cause?" You countered. "I do not regret this. I will never so long as I live because we chose to do this, together."

Erryk moved off the bed and slipped on his trousers and linen shirt with the ties undone.

"I do not ask out of a want to be removed from my circumstance."

"Then why ask it?"

"Do you never feel guilt? Of allowing me to besmirch your honor–"

"Please," you begged him and sat on the settee that was littered with books of old. "I do not wish to hear it."

You did feel some guilt. Guilt of a secret that had been eating away at you for a day.

The troubles of life had long settled itself within the walls of your chamber. These conversations had been occurring more often as of late and you knew not the cause but had a rousing suspicion that his honor, duty to the crown levied a darkening cloud over his consciousness.

The culpability of a sin unforgettable to his stature buried him. Now having witnessed the removal of the Lord Commander, and Hand of the King, for the consequences of lust weighed like torture.

A dam of large proportions was meant to break in the keep.

The blood of Rhaenyra's childbirth was still being washed from the halls and with it, the stones cracked under pressure.

Erryk picked up the pieces of his armor from the floor and laid them before himself on the bed. Ingrained in his mind, he assembled each piece to the best of his ability before moving toward you as the birds began to chirp outside of your windows.

The cool breeze of autumn filtered in through the curtains.

It was then he saw the wetness of your cheeks. A silent cry had formed in his wake and he had not seen it. He had given no time for care; he feared your needs were not satisfied.

Before he could stumble out words, you coughed out the admission.

"Rhaenyra is leaving for Dragonstone on the morrow."

Oh.

"She asked for my council... to go with her."

Erryk felt a terrible wall grow in front of him.

"I do not wish to leave you."

"Are you to go with her?" He asked.

A part of him knew the impossible task. He and his brother were inseparable. Being twins, perhaps it was expected of him to be close as thieves but the bonds of a sister had tethered two souls closer than even he could ponder.

He would die for his brother, as you would your sister.

"Yes," you cried. A sob escaped your lips and you let your head fall into your hands.

Erryk tossed his armor back onto the bed, kneeling before you and wrapping his arms around you as his heart stung.

"It is not my place to beg you to stay," he admitted. "You must do as your future Queen commands of you." Spoken like a knight.

"What if my leaving is the last that I will see of you?' You questioned. You lifted your head and cupped his face. "I love you, Erryk. I do not regret my actions."

"And I you," and instead of Princess, he said your name soothingly. "I speak in fear. You speak of what little you have, but with what I do have, my body and soul are yours to keep."

"I do not think I can bear being parted for long. I will not take a husband, I will not take another lover," you declared.

You made your sentiments known. He was not going to question it again.

"Nor I," he agreed. "Nor I."

You pulled your lips to his own.

"I wanted to tell you," you wept, “but I could not find you. I wished not for this to be our parting ways. I do not want to you to remember me this way."

"In what way?" He hummed with a strained, sorrowed smile. "You are as beautiful as the day we met. If this is to be our last moments together, my only regret is not holding you longer."

You let out a wet, sad laugh.

"We will find each other again," he reassured you. His blue eyes shining in the golden glow of morning as the sun blessed the skies in a red and pink dream.

"I swear it, by the old Gods and the new."

You rubbed your thumb across his cheek to catch a tear most of the Kingsguard would never admit to falling in the presence of their lovers. You nodded at him.

"I love you," you whispered.

You wouldn't see him for another six years.

The gates of King's Landing were tall and colored in an ugly terracotta.

You peered out the slim slivers the grated windows of the caravan allowed as it trudged the rocky roads along the shoreline of the city. Glimpses of a cooling fall air, the sun was shielding itself behind clouds with every inching second that wheels churned closer to the keep.

"Surely the city cannot have changed that much since our departure, good sister," Daemon's words were shrouded in a snicker. His eyes are always cutting and looking for a battle.

Eyes tearing themselves away from the outside, you looked at Daemon as he studied you.

"It has changed greatly, Uncle," you retorted. "Perhaps if you had spent more time canvasing it during the light of day you would be able to say the same."

Daemon's lips lifted themselves into a sly, cunning smirk as Rhaenyra shook her head.

"Must we bicker as such? Play civil for only a day and then we shall return home. Might we find some excitement beyond the boor?"

When Daemon became Rhaenyra's husband after Laenor passed, you wished your dragon would swallow you whole.

Rhaenyra said you were being dramatic.

"Vaemond is a peddler," you reassured her, taking her hand in yours and peering back outside of the slits. "Your sons have little to fear."

In the years that have passed over Westeros, every soul had been changed by the tenants of the Red Keep and those who watch over them like vultures at a feast. Rhaenyra's ascendance to Viserys' heir should not have been a catalyst for the pain suffered by those in their watch but yet it could not help itself.

Your fingertips ghosted the wooden edges of the carriage as the latches of the gates began to swing outwards and opening themselves up to you once more.

Rhaenyra understood that her sons had nothing to fret regarding their futures. Viserys had turned a blind eye for years and the sentiment would not change so long as he remained on the throne for the years to come.

She squeezed your tender fingers with her own.

Daemon's eyes wandered from the trusted hands of two sisters to his wife's face.

"I do wonder," Daemon cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat. His sheathed sword knocked the golden accents of the interior. "If there is something of worry for you, good sister."

Rhaenyra's face twitched. A challenge, he imagined.

"I've heard that the Queen has been looking to secure a marriage match for her children."

"Daemon, you forget yourself," Rhaenyra spoke. Your eyes were lost in the courtyard that began to form around you.

"She has evaded such for years," Daemon defended. "I know of no other high-born lady, a princess, who is beyond marrying age and still remains relevant. Alicent is playing chess against an enemy that stays hidden on a cliff."

"Why is the concern so pressing?" Rhaenyra questioned, her eyes narrowing as her hand gripped yours tighter.

"You said it yourself, if Vaemond has the will to bring into question Jace and Luc, then the family will fall into a pit before being able to hoist itself up again. A match may not be out of the question to cease the concerns of other houses who question our ability to rule."

"No." Rhaenyra shook her head. "My father-"

"Knows nothing. The green bitch does his bidding. We all know about it."

The wheels of the carriage struck a bump causing the three of you to lean in one direction before falling back. The sounds of Kingsguard and City Watch members clambering for the arrival of such a caravan began to make themselves known.

"Where do you hear such secrets, Daemon?" You tired of hearing your life being planned without your consent. You narrowed your eyes at the blonde man. "I am near twenty years elder of her children. I am far too old to be the wife of–," there was a part of you that could hardly speak it.

And Daemon chuckled at the prospect.

But then again, he was older than both you and Rhaenyra.

It may have been the proper way of great households, but it was one that you detested. You had seen what marriage had done to your sister, your family, and closest friends. So many lost to what they had known for the sake of alliances and duty.

The memories of your trysts lay present in your mind. He was there.

A piece of Rhaenyra and your mother's stubbornness had harbored itself into you for the last sixteen years when womanhood had finally made sense to you.

There had been a glint in Rhaenyra's eyes at one time and you'd be dammed if you let your family take that from you as well.

"Besides," you diverted. "Father has tried many fine men of great houses to force my hand and yet," you lifted a hand void of jewelry besides a golden dragon that slithered up ornately on your pointer finger.

"Trying times call for trying actions."

You needn't respond to Daemon for him to understand the conversation had ceased. Rhaenyra put pressure on your hand once more before removing it and placing her own back on her belly that grew another child of her and Daemon's.

Outside the caravan of black banners and red sigils, the scattered sounds of court disappeared behind walls rattled with the hooves of the steeds. The carriage came to a rough stop and Rhaenyra gave you a stressed smile.

There was no fond greeting for those who escaped to Dragonstone six years ago.

"I sense the welcome is not as it once was," you whispered to her. Her brows furrowed as she had not paid any mind to the sounds and sights beyond her small party. A sinking feeling landed at the pit of your stomach.

The clatter of tools and wooden planks stopped as the caller announced the members to descend the steps.

And as you thought, the welcome was as the keep had become: vacant of the reverence it once had.

Each member of the Targaryen's who had been nothing short of exiled for their own safety waltzed into the pit of a raging green beast with a poor reception on behalf of the crown the heir expected. It spoke plainly of the disagreeable nature floating between two sides.

With a creak, the doors to the Keep's entrance opened and one soul, Lord Caswell, looked ridden with worry which struck a chord within Daemon, Rhaenyra, and yourself. He approached the heir with a solemn face before bowing.

"Welcome home, Princess."

"Lord Caswell," Rhaenyra responded in kind. His eyes bounced between each of you. He hadn't welcomed any of you to the keep in six years time.

It was as though a century had passed in a second.

"The King is anxious for your return," he continued. "He spoke of nothing but for these past two days. As well as to see his grandchildren, so grown and presentable." Lord Caswell nodded at them.

"Take us to him, if you please, Lord Caswell. It has been a weary journey," Rhaenyra began to walk off as he stuttered.

"Surely you would like to rest first, Princess? I will have your things taken to the visiting quarters."

"Visiting quarters?" Rhaenyra questioned, stopping in her tracks. Daemon was on her heels and her eldest son, Jace, halted with the rest of the children beside you.

Your eyes danced around the courtyard in a silly hope to find a pair.

'Of course he would not be there,' you scolded yourself.

You wondered if you had changed since your last meeting. Would he be able to recognize the woman you had become in the desolate castle?

"The Queen has taken residence in your former quarters, Princess."

Rhaenyra paused before speaking with an understanding that while here on the business of securing her son's legacy, her bygone friend has seized more than just your father.

But as you took in the surroundings you envisioned a world differently than the one that presented itself to you now. One of freedom and without greed; no one playing a long game of power and where lives were not seen as pawns, but as people.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath. She held her hand to her stomach and rubbed a thumb across it gently as the overcoat she wore buried the chill with everything she had lost inside. She glanced at you as your eyes looked everywhere but hers and followed as they met every Kingsguard in the court.

She saw the light dim in the slightest.

"Lord Caswell," She spoke clearly, "take us to my father please."

Seldom would have prepared you for the state your father was in.

Forced with an eternity of pain, Viserys was a shell of himself in the bed he laid. Each minute he suffered in the stillness of the Milk of the Poppy and it guided him only to lead him astray; every swing of an ax, a sword in the courtyard, would bleed the remnants of happiness that lingered in his dusty room.

He barely recognized you as you held his hand.

It struck your soul when he mistook you for your dead mother.

"Aemma," he croaked as though it took all his strength to talk."

Rhaenyra stilled beside you. You put on a brave face.

"No, father," you reminded him of you. "We are all here now."

He repeated your name brokenly.

"Sister," Rhaenyra approached you with her own son, Viserys by name, on her hip.

You had resigned yourself to inspect the dusty model of King's Landing that had once been a prized possession of the man who could not will himself to stand. The disease had overtaken his body to the point of immobility.

Viserys groaned in pain in his bed.

It was a sound you wished not to hear once more.

"Why don't you find your nephews and reintroduce them to the Keep?" She proposed. Her attitude was emitting more positivity than it should.

"I am sure they have already made their way," you took a finger and swiped it through the dust.

"And they could do well with a guide," she pressed.

You sighed, taking a glimpse behind you and surveying your father as he hid behind the curtains of his bed and cooed at Rhaenrya's other son, Aegon.

"He will be alright, sister."

"I do not share the same confidence, Rhaenyra."

She bounced Viserys on her hip. The boy played innocently with her hair without worry of the world evolving around him.

It was turning sour.

"Go to them," Rhaenyra ordered. "I would start at the training ground... you know how my boys are."

You heard the sound of swords before you saw them.

For once Daemon had been right about the Red Keep: it truly hadn’t changed from your time spent away. The same people found themselves completing the same mundane tasks each and every day until the Father called them home.

At the top of the long steps, you took in the sights you had missed.

It smelled of shit and metal. The people were loud and crowding around a scene of two men sparring along the edges of the yard. In your vision, Jace and Luke were fumbling through the materials they reminisced of as young children.

A chunk taken out of the stone, the wooden swords still available to train with.

You leaned against the barrister of brick. Below, just out of sight, two knights sparred in their time away from the king. Their fierceness caught the eyes of the two Targaryen boys who were in awe of the sights around them.

“Look,” Jace put his arm around his brother and pointed to Erryk and Arryk’s valiant efforts.

The eldest was in awe of such gallantry.

“It is just as we remembered, isn’t it?”

Luke watched as everyone stared at them unabashedly.

“They have always been valiant fighters,” Jace continued. “I remember Ser Erryk helping us adjust our stances. We were all but six and ten.”

"That was not Ser Arryk?"

Jace laughed. "Ser Erryk was the one to help you after I pushed you into that pile of horse shit when you were four. He gave the best advice about watching your opponents."

“And what good did that bring you?” Luke jested and received a slap on the head. He caught you monitoring them from above on the landing of the steps.

“It seems motherly is untrusting of us on our own,” he told Jace who clocked you watching before the sounds of metal swords clanging caught your attention.

“She will not object to us,” Jace picked at the swords on the cart. “She let us hit each other with these same sticks when I was not yet ten. I do not think our Aunt minds if we explore our old home.”

“I do not think she cares about us at all,” Luke spoke of you as he watched the two brothers push one another backwards.

They let up with a shake of their hands and if he could tell them apart, he would say Arryk looked up at you and paused.

“Brother,” Arryk called to Erryk as the latter went to reestablish his footing.

“What?” Erryk heaved in a tired breath. “Again, Arryk. We do not have much time.”

“Brother,” Arryk now insisted and pointed his sword upwards to the tops of the steps.

When he turned around, it was as though all life paused around him. Two worlds gone completely still because for the first time in six years, you and Erryk had finally converged to one place.

It took his breath away.

A/N: I lied! I made this into 2 parts because it was getting far too long. Next part will cover the reunion, more smut, and of course the remaining bits of Erryk’s story.

As always, thank you for reading. Comments and reblogs, as well as likes, are greatly appreciated. I loved that this character has captured our hearts so much. There truly are no small roles.

#ser erryk cargyll x reader #erryk cargyll x reader #erryk cargyll x you #hotd #house of the dragon #erryk cargyll #ser erryk cargyll #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #hotd s2 #house of the dragon s2

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weskie · 6 months ago

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Earned (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

no warnings, wesker lives au, extremely loose followup to this, wesker receiving affection, i think he deserves it, if that's wrong i don't wanna be right | Fic Directory

Sometimes you can see through the cracks of his cold, unbothered demeanor.

There’s something… fragile under all of it. Buried beneath decades of shielding himself from the worst this world had to offer, from dealings with the dregs of humanity and a life manufactured and directed without his knowledge.

You remember how volatile Wesker had been after discovering the truth from Spencer. The cracks you peer through now had been wedged clear open back then. Salt dumped into the not-so-metaphorical wound. You found him in a fit of rage when he finally came home, destroying his entire office just to cope in the only way he could think of. Splinters of debris gave way under your footsteps and he glared daggers at you, daring you to come closer, daring you to cross the fray into the eye of the storm.

His reluctance to let you touch him weaned with every passing second that you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks. It was startling to see his typically calm exterior eroded so completely. You’d never seen him so… shattered. It wasn’t until later that you’d understand that the foundation of his entire life had been swept out from under his feet. But, even then, you had an inkling that something had truly shaken him to his core.

“Who am I?”

You’ll never forget the flare of amber glowing brighter in his eyes as each word fell from his lips over and over, nor the bruising grip he had on your arms, until he hid his face in the crook of your neck– secretly so desperate to hide from the haunting revelations of his life.

And you don’t forget it now as you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head on your lap while he rests. His recovery had been long and arduous, and it had humbled him more than anything possibly could have. His dependence upon you had been a nearly insurmountable sore spot, but you wager it taught him a truth so incredibly foreign to his perception of the world.

Vulnerability can be okay.

At least it can be with you. You’re not out here to stab him in the back or raw deal him for a larger cut in some grand scheme. You’re not a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company pulling his strings nor the corpse that once orchestrated the entire marionette show.

You’re someone who loves him– adores him.

It’s taken him a very long time to truly believe that, much less accept it. You will forever be his greatest weakness and strength, all rolled into one. You are leverage for anyone who wants to truly hurt him, but you are also the ferocity with which he will unmake them for even considering it.

Worse yet?

You are the only reason he’s glad to have not perished in that volcano. Wesker remembers only flashes of his dreams while cocooned in Uroboros, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he dreamt of you. That it was your voice that pulled him through, your presence that he reached out to in his near comatose state. It was you who he sought after waking, despite how his body screamed to cease his movements.

So maybe…

Maybe it isn’t so wrong to let those cracks open up when he’s with you. Maybe you should see the parts of him locked away from the world. You should know the little boy thrown into the best boarding schools money could buy, the one who wondered if he had parents like the others did, who sought academic excellence so that he’d have even a fraction of the love he’s seen bestowed upon others by right of birth to those who could love them– to the man he is now, stripped of his pride and still always left to wonder what his true name had been.

Long ago, he asked you a question under much different circumstances. Have you earned me, he’d said. As he peeks through his farce of sleeping to take in the sight of you looking at him with endless love, only one thought lingers in his mind.

You have.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #resident evil #dbd #dead by daylight #wesker x reader #wesker x you #albert wesker fanfiction #resident evil wesker

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shadowandlightt · 10 months ago

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Of Nightmares and Memories /two/ Azriel X Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part one Part Three

You dream of the blue of his siphons. The hazel of his eyes. You see him every night, whether you’d like to or not. He seems to invade everyone of your senses, always. Even from miles away. Even if he was dead. But you swore you’d know if he perished when Amerantha took over. You felt as if you would’ve felt his loss deep within your gut.

But there had been no word of Velaris, or the people inside it. Had your brother truly been able to hide it all of these years? He’d been stripped of so much of his power, but did he have enough to keep your beloved city safe?

“He wants you in the dining room for dinner.”

“And if I say no?” You question the red haired fox.

His eyes, one golden and mechanical, narrowed on you, “He’ll drag you down by your hair.”

“I’d like to see him try,” You bark out a laugh, knowing you could shred him in a moment if only you had use of your power.

The faebane they kept you full of made sure you were just a sliver of who you once were. Your skin was dull and lifeless, gone was the wondrous glow of immortality. Because you might as well have been mortal, plain and easy to kill. But you still had the self defense that your brothers taught you. You still had the ability to fight back. You were weak now, yes, but you could still just as easily use one of the butter knives on Tamlin.

“Please,” Lucien begged, “Don’t be difficult. It’s been a hard day.”

“He lost another, then?” I question, head cocking to the side.

“Don’t bring it up or he’s likely to skin you alive,” Lucien warned you.

“Again, I’d like to see him try.”

Lucien’s eyes seem tired as he looks at you. Your fight seemed to dissipate as you looked at him. You knew time was running out, far too fast. Soon enough Amarantha would take control over every Fae, no matter where they lived. Tamlin was the only one keeping her at bay, and his power was almost hers for the taking. Then what would become of you? When her goons came for Tamlin and ransacked the house, surely they’d find you and drag you before her. Then you’d just be a tool to further your brother’s pain.

“Ah, I can see it now,” He sighed, “You’ve realized your fate, if this doesn’t work.”

“He’ll never convince a human to love him,” You shake your head, “No matter how charming he can be.”

“For your sake, you best hope he does.”

You follow him from your room, or your cell, whatever seems to fit one day to the next. The manor house is quiet as you make your way through it, servants not sparing you a second glance. They all knew you were being held prisoner, yet they could do little to change it, without incurring the High Lord’s wrath.

For once in your life, you were helpless, and had been since that day in the clearing.

“It would’ve been so much easier for him,” You mutter, “Had he just let them kill me that day. Instead he had them spare me and now I stay a constant headache.”

“More like a constant thorn in his side,” Lucien smiled slightly.

The thought brought a sly smile to my face. You prepared your stone mask as you grew closer to the dining room. Lucien was the only one you allowed to see a sliver of who you were. You allowed him to see more of yourself than you should, because he saw someone who was a little more delicate, a little more capable of love and sadness. Not the stone exterior of the Night Court that we worked so hard to maintain.

“Play nice with him tonight,” Was Lucien’s last warning before we reached the golden doors.

You schooled your face into a bored mask, as if all of this was beneath you. For centuries you’d been playing this part. Without so much as a break from it. Only when you were sure you were alone in my rooms did you let the mask fall. Only then did you cry out for my family, for my home.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Tamlin’s voice carried from the end of the table.

Your eyes roll, “As if I had a choice.”

A snarl escapes from Tamlin, claws slowly growing. You smile sweetly at him for a moment, before throwing out what little power you had left to reach into his head. Just enough to let him know you were there, just enough to be a pest when you wanted. But it wasn’t without difficulty. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you strained against the confines of your power.

“Enough,” He yelled, slamming his hands down against the table.

You flinch back, seeing the beast start to emerge. For a moment you allowed yourself to feel the slight fear that crept in. You were weak now, unable to protect yourself as you used to. He’d taken your power, your freedom, and your strength away from you. Stripped it away as if it were nothing. He should have just killed you in the forest that day.

“Where is the little human?” You question, sniffing the air, “Her…stench is hard to miss.”

“She’s getting cleaned up,” Lucien spoke up, “Might be best if you eat before Alis is finished with her.”

I turn slowly to glare at him, before turning back to Tamlin, “Still keeping me as your dirty little secret then?”

“She doesn’t need to know about you.”

“You know, I hope you can charm this one,” You snarl, “Because time is running out. Soon enough we’ll all be-”

“Enough!” He roars, “I know how much time we have left. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Oh, you still have the chance, but the second he finds out I’m still alive,” You can’t help but laugh as you shake your head, “Well… then you’ll really wish you allowed them to kill me.”

“If she finds out you're alive…” Lucien trailed off with a look from Tamlin.

I flop down into a chair and scoop up a glass of wine, “Well, this is going to be a fun couple of months, then, won’t it?”

“Behave,” Lucien snaps.

“I am behaving,” I reply sweetly.

“Eat, before I lock you up and forget about you.”

“Now now,” I sigh, “It’s been centuries, surely we can be a little more civil than that,”

“You’re too much like your brother,” Tamlin sighs, leaning back into his chair.

“You almost sound sad about that,” You note, “Regretting crossing him?”

“No.”

You hum and drink your wine before tucking into the food before you. Despite knowing there was faebane in it, you couldn’t stop eating. You hardly ate anymore. Just enough to keep you alive, but today you were starving.

“Slow down before you make yourself sick,” Lucien said slowly.

You growl at him before slowly down slightly. If only your brother could see you now. See what you’d become. If only Az and Cas could see you, what would they think? Or Mor or Amren. You weren’t sure what they would say if they could see you now. How different you’d become.

Time passed slowly. The weeks dragged on, as you were only allowed out of your room when Feyre, the human, wasn’t around. Tamlin was doing well with dancing around your existence. Firenight was quickly approaching, and you felt the excitement deep in your bones. If there was one night that you would beg to be released it was Calanmai.

“You know you can’t.”

“Please Lucien,” You all but beg, “He’ll be there, I know it.”

“Which is why you can’t leave the manor,” He explains.”

“I just want to see him for myself,” You whine, “I need to see him, just once before the fifty years is up. Just once.”

“He’ll know.”

“Tamlin will be too caught up in the rite to notice,” I remind him, “And you can manage a convincing glamor.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just this once,” You say softly, “I wouldn’t ask if time wasn’t running out.”

“I know.”

“Just, please.”

“You stay next to me the whole time,” He explains, “Running off could get you killed.”

“I know.”

“Thirty minutes, that’s all you’ll get.”

“It’s more than I thought I’d get.”

Your heart hammered in your chest with the prospect of seeing your brother again after centuries of being apart from him. You knew you wouldn’t be able to tell him who you were, you wouldn’t be able to leave with him. Or speak with him. But you’d be able to lay eyes on him, and know that in whatever capacity, he was okay. He was alive, even if he was a slave to the bitch under the mountain. He’s still alive. And that’s all you could ask. Even if the rest of your family was dead, at least he lived on.

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster

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clementine-thedestroyer · 1 month ago

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(Tw for dub con/darkish themes)

Valeria x forgotten deity!reader who she finds, relegated to obscurity in some cave or in the basement of a long forgotten and abandoned building after they’ed been betrayed by the very humans they loved so much.

And it was a shame too- you’re a lesser god, maybe having domain over a few waterways or being one of the many relatively unknown lesser fertility god/goddesses- you’d used your divinity to try and do good. You were the rare example of a truly benevolent god.

And maybe that stemmed from exactly how weak of a god you were- so weak, in fact, that when the people you’d watched over for generations turned on you, you were helpless to fight back.

What could you do, in the end? A pitiful little thing like you didn’t have it in you to curse their crops or poison there water with your spite- much less fight back in any real way. You couldn’t bring yourself to harm the humans you loved so much- especially not when poisoning their land would be punishing the whole for the actions of just a few.

So you’re left, forgotten and trapped in some dark cave. You never learned how the people you’d watched over for centuries had died not even a year after betraying you. The entire village- wiped out in a single night during a raid.

You remained trapped for over a millennia, loosing track of time and having your body nearly overtaken by the moss and lichens that populated your cell. And the whole time, you’d continued to use your powers to bless the crops and soil of the village you once felt was the closest thing to a home that someone like you could ever have- blissfully unaware that the people you’d protected and provided for so selflessly had all long since perished.

So all that remains- the only trace of your existence that was left to the world was a simple patch of forest that grew much lusher and much faster than anything around it. Even in times of drought, the leaves never wilted and the ground never cracked from the lack of water.

Valeria had stumbled across you completely by accident. Really, it was like the universe had just dropped you in her lap- centuries of isolation and darkness had made you pliable- malleable to her desires.

So of course, when she found you, she didn’t set you free or offer to help in hopes of currying favor or for the simple reason of having a god owe her a favor-

No, she listened to your sob story- listened to you bawl your eyes out about the years upon years upon years that you’d been trapped there. She listened carefully, pulling you carefully into her lap at the end and tucking your head against her chest.

She cooed patronizingly at you, stroking your hair and lamenting what a shame it was that something as pretty and pitiful as you had been locked up somewhere so dark and ugly when you could’ve been hers.

But you don’t have to worry about that anymore- she’s got you now. You’re hers now, and it’s for the best. After all, if you had too much of a bleeding heart to even resent your people for doing this to you, how could you be expected to take care of yourself?

And it all really does feel like a gift from the universe to Valeria. Because after all, what’s a better show of power than having a literal god at her beck and call- warming her bed and standing at her side to serve her hand and foot.

And you didn’t have to worry about a thing, because she knows what’s best for you, and she’ll never let you go. (And in the end, that’s what your betrayal really boiled down to, didn’t it? Your people let you go, and that’s one thing she’ll never do.)

#valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria x you #valeria garza x reader #valeria x reader #valeria garza #valeria mw2

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utterlyotterlyx · 6 months ago

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The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Seven

Summary - Your feelings for Eris are confronted and you make a choice that is sure to break you.

Warnings - angst, fluff, depression, betrayal, sadness, more angst

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Velaris hadn't been the same since you had left.

The entire population was scrutinizing the Inner Circle and the beast they called their High Lord who was doing his best to convince his people that you weren't well and had chosen to heal in the company of the realms best healers in Dawn.

No one believed it.

Rhys was pacing about the study, walking the length of it before turning on his heels and following the wall back to the other side whilst Cassian and Azriel stood before him, clammy palms and pale faces as the throbbing power of Rhys threatened to consume them.

It had been a back and forth conflict that had lasted for days, the words thrown had become so intense that Feyre had deigned to move herself and Nyx to the House of Wind. The main consensus was that a war with Autumn would be devastating to all involved, but Rhys had lost his mind for long enough to be void of the capability to see any reason.

All he wanted was his sister back in his court, safe and warm and protected, where her power wouldn't threaten anyone into daring to know more.

"She'll come back," Azriel's voice cut through the haze, his voice was sure but quaking, and Rhys halted his movements, approaching the desk and taking a seat.

Their High Lord was a shell of himself, a wild glare had consumed his dark eyes, none of them could remember the last time he had smiled or joked, all he did was speak of you, of how to get you back.

"Did your shadows tell you something?"

Azriel shuffled in his seat, dreading what he had to say, for his brother didn't know the exact details of what occurred with you at the boarder of Winter and Autumn, "No," he cleared his throat, "You threatened Elain, Lucien, and Eris," he gulped, "And Nesta."

Cassian hadn't been doing well without her, he hardly slept or ate, and he flinched with pain more often than not due to the bond being so weak and brittle, close to extinction. Their shared brother snapped his head in their direction, his gaze wide as it moved between Rhys and Azriel, both of which kept some vital information from him.

The Shadowsinger continued, "You know that y/n would never put anyone in harms way, she would never risk the lives of the people she loves most," he wasn't sure if he was included in that list anymore, "She just wants to be free. I beg you to think of a different way to establish peace."

Rhys rolled his eyes, bored of the same words, "You saw what she can do now," he leaned forward in the chair and the stars panicked in response, blinking quickly, some even vanished from the sky entirely.

Neither of them could escape the image of those licks of blame flame curling up your fingers and forearm, they couldn't escape the coldness in your glare, and Azriel in particular couldn't escape the flash of pain that shot through your face when he had taken a step back from you.

"Even then, does it mean that we need to go to war? We've barely recovered from Hybern and Koschei as it is, our armies will perish-"

"You can both leave," Rhys drawled, uninterested, bored even, as he picked a threat from his suit jacket and let it float to the floor, "Start preparing our armies, Cass." A stiff nod from Cassian acted as his reply, he rose from his seat, eyes still wide and white knuckles gleaming in the moonlight.

Come home, or I will make sure that you are left with nothing.

Nothing.

The faint scent of cinnamon kissed the air, meaning that Eris was home, and the more intense it grew the more it became clear that he was searching for you as he always did when he returned to the manor. All he had to do was follow the aroma of you, the one scent that he would bottle up if he could just so your scent could drown his clothes and senses.

“Hello Fawn,” he called to you, his voice purred with adoration, and your spine tingled at the sensation of it. As quickly as he spoke the words, Eris frowned, noting the blank stare you held at whatever held your attention beyond the window.

Night had fallen upon Autumn, the sky held the last few flickers of light as dark purple licked the sky and faded to black.

The exhaustion was clear on your face as he fell to your side, his arm brushing against your own as though he was reminding you of where you were. Not Night. Autumn.

Eris had believed that he was making some headway with you, but after Rhys, it felt like you had constructed a dam of steel around your mind. Cold and unimpeachable. It was warranted, but dangerous, and Eris noticed you retreating into yourself more every passing moment.

“What’s wrong?”

Turning to face him, you etched his face to memory, whisky amber eyes full of worry, tight lips, messy red hair that fell past his ears; he had left in a rush that morning, negating to properly style his hair which meant that it was messy but too alluring to pay attention to. He was dressed in ivory briefs and a white shirt, a red waistcoat and jacket both adorned with vines of gold.

A High Lord if you ever did see one.

All you wanted to do was reach out and push a strand behind his ear, to graze his cheekbone with your fingers. But you couldn’t. If there was any chance of Rhys finding out of how much Eris meant to you then he would surely ensure the most brutal punishment possible.

A serene but forced smile consumed your lips, lips that were chapped and broken from the bouts of anxiety that crashed down on you, “Nothing,” you told him, eyes flickering. Shaking your head, you explained, “Nesta was a bit brutal with training today but it’s fine.”

That’s right. Eris had been too busy that day to train with you, you had both been enjoying your sessions grappling with the carranam powers you had discovered, but Eris hadn’t had the time, which meant that Nesta was keeping her eye on you.

The stare didn’t relent but you didn’t shrink under it, you’d never shrink yourself for anyone ever again, so you turned back to peer out of the cloudy glass, “How can I make it better?”

Tension fizzled, Eris took your hands in his, stroking his thumb over the soft surface and resting on your pulse, “Train with me tomorrow.”

Eris smirked, “Done.”

Faint cricket song creaked through the open window, the low beating glow of the fireflies allowed you to see the pond rippling beyond the glass panes that were doing their best to keep the cold from seeping into your bones. Moments had flickered where you seemed unsure, moments where your mind was reeling, trying to figure out what was the next best step not only for you, but your people.

For Eris.

Oddly enough, it had been Elain who would come to your room at night, or Lucien; Nesta knew when to leave you alone and Eris didn't like imposing on your space, but Elain and Lucien, together or separate, seemed to know what you needed more than yourself.

Elain would bring an assortment of baked goods, she'd perch them on the edge of the bed and climb atop the comforter to wedge herself beside you; she wouldn't talk, she would simply listen and occasionally chirp soft advise whilst those pastries loosened your lips. Lucien however was much more straightforward, he would burst into your room no matter the time, he knew you'd be awake regardless, he'd say that he could feel your thoughts pulsing about the manor, uneasy and painful, and he would come to you to make you smile.

Much like how Cassian used to.

The soft patter of rain sounded beyond the threshold, the scent of it made you close your eyes and smile, inhaling the newly damp earth of Autumn, "Talk to me," Eris' fingers reached for you, curling a strand of your hair around them and pushing it behind your pointed ear; his fingers continued to travel, hooking beneath your chin and gently tugging your gaze to his, "You haven't been yourself."

Eris towered over you, his breath crept along your cheeks as thunder cracked in the distance, a flash of lightening snapped across the sky, "How can I be?"

It wasn't supposed to be painful, pushing people away, but it was tearing your soul apart. In some way, you'd much rather be alone for the rest of your long life than risk anything ever happening to anyone you loved. Rhys was determined to take you, Eris was determined to not allow it, and you were determined to save them from ruin.

Sighing, you unwound the blockade around your heart, feeling it strain and groan as you gave it space to breathe, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Eris watched your eyes glaze over, he watched that ring of fire dim, he watched as your bottom lip wobbled as you spoke, "I'm tired, Eris."

The High Lord figured as much, the bags that clung to your undereye grew larger each day, he had asked you multiple times if you wanted to talk, but you had denied it, you had been too focused in removing yourself physically so that if you really did then it wouldn't hurt as much.

I'm tired, Eris.

Those three words told him everything he needed to know. You were tired of life, you were tired of the betrayal and the lies, you were tired of the small voices in your mind telling you that you weren't worthy of anything good because how could any good being be used by the people who was meant to love and protect them?

Cracking walls allowed the storm to seep in, and Eris had been expecting it for awhile, he had monitored your anxious actions and sleuthing, he knew that the walls were due to collapse.

"Oh gods," your hand pressed on your stomach, leaving his own palm suddenly cold, you were trying to alleviate the pain dwelling inside of you like a demon, "How could they do this?"

The mere image of your face crumpling had Eris wrapping you into his arms as the last few weeks tore through the abyss toward you, clawing at the confinements you had locked them in. Sobs bubbled through your lips and Eris felt your tears soak through the cotton of his shirt, and all he could do was allow you to go through the motions. It was better to be held in your darkest hour than battle it alone. If all Eris could offer you was his shoulder and gentle caresses, then he would spend the rest of his life making sure he was there to lend them to you.

You had spent the last couple of days playing the memories of your life in your mind, ignoring the blank spots hidden within them, you were trying to figure out what exactly had been a lie, or what you could have done to deserve a life of chains and steel.

"My entire life is tainted now, I don't know what was real anymore. The bargain with Azriel, the shopping trips with Mor, researching with Amren and training with Cassian, painting with Feyre," you paused, "Even Rhys, when did he decide that I was better off locked away? When did he decide that it was best to spread stories of the monster of Velaris rather than the stories of his sister?"

The fond memories of dancing in Rita's until sunrise with Mor and Cassian had turned to ash alongside the moments you had spent with every member of your false family.

Eris ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips grazing across your scalp, he knew you loved the feeling, and his chest rumbled as he spoke, "Do not fear the storm, y/n," his lips lingered just by your ear and you could faintly feel the parting as he spoke against the shell, "You are learning how to sail your ship. You will get through this, we'll get through it all, together," he pulled away from you but still held you in his arms, the flash of lightening slicing across his face, moulding with the light of the dancing flames dotted about the space in the form of tealights and lanterns hanging from the ceiling, "Just for now. Find a corner of your soul that feels good. And rest there."

Feeling seen and heard felt so foreign to you, but in Autumn, with Eris, you felt alive. Autumn had wrapped her doting arms around you and used her embrace to will you back to life, she willed you to find joy and passion, and perhaps even love.

Perhaps the Mother had sent Autumn to you to lead you to a life that would be worth all of the pain and loneliness. Peering up at Eris, you admired his beauty, the sharp but rugged look, the amber whisky eyes that reminded you of molten bronze, his stupidly perfect hair that Nesta told you constantly was something from novels, "Thank you, for making me feel alive."

Eris sucked in a breath and the candles burned brighter, their light covering the ceiling, "Thank you for making me believe that I'm worthy of being happy."

Extending your fingers over his chest, right above his heart, you frowned and asked, "You aren't happy?"

"I wasn't, but then you came, and now I am."

The smile on your face was radiant, soft and gentle, full of understanding, "We only have one life in this world, Eris. That's reason enough to stop holding back," silent permission sang to him and he rested his hands on the curve of your hips.

The demon within you didn't scare him, what Nesta had told him didn't scare him, nothing about you brought him any form of discomfort or doubt.

"I didn't stop thinking about you after I saw you Under The Mountain, you were humming a song that felt so familiar, your voice was so weak but so enchanting," he recounted, "I remember the light finding you like it always has, I remember the vacant look in your eye and the scuffle of your bare and bloody feet on the ground," Eris cupped your face in his hands, and your fingers drifted around his wrists, "That image haunts me, but that song, that beautifully awful thing has been the only thing to bring me any sort of peace since that place." Since Amarantha and Under The Mountain, "I saw you like I do now, wounded and hurting in so many ways, and I swore to myself that if I ever had the chance, that I would make sure it never happened again."

"The war against Hybern was won because of you, I saw you on that battlefield wielding that sword like it was an extension of yourself, you had rose from the ashes of Amarantha herself and tilted the scales in our favour," a gentle amused huff passed through your lips, "Then you aided me, you risked everything for my vision because you believed in it, because you believe in a better world for everyone, not just your own people. And then you came to me for help, because somewhere deep inside of you, you knew you'd be safe here, with me. And that night, on that balcony of the Day Court, for the first time, I saw you and I didn't just want to have you, but I wanted to deserve you. I asked the Mother for you, despite feeling undeserving, feeling disrespectful for ever thinking of it. Instead, I prayed to her to make me worthy of you."

Eris' molten bronze gaze was trying to tell you something, but you couldn't quite figure it out, not when he was looking at your lips like that, not when every fibre of your being was needing to mould itself inside of him.

"Do you know what the song is?"

Shaking his head, Eris muttered a small 'no', so you told him, "It's the song of your ancestors, the Symphony of Ash. I knew that it must have been awful to see me like that and you always used to say that you liked my voice, and I just thought that you could use a lullaby."

All air rushed from his lungs. You knew that he was watching you that night, and that song, that beautifully horrid thing, was for him. So that even if his nightmares kept him awake, you voice would lull him back to slumber, a song from his court that you had learned.

Even in the moments when you were worlds apart, strangers almost, you had still cared enough to spare him a thought of comfort in the days that weren't so bright for him either despite your own torture.

"That was for me?"

A delicate hum sounded from your throat, "Take it as a gift from one former betrothed to another."

"Former betrothed?"

Frowning, you pulled back slightly, but that frown soon turned to wonder, "You don't remember?" The blank look in his eye confirmed it, "We were supposed to get married before, well, I was locked away and you were directed to Mor. It was meant to be me and you."

"I remember our parents talking of it when we were children, but I didn't realise that it was ever real."

"It was very real."

Eris felt his soul burn, he felt your fingers curl around it, he felt your darkness kiss his fire, and he shuddered at the singing of his essence, "Me and you?"

"Us."

"Can I kiss you?"

You shouldn't. You couldn't. It would make what you had to do even harder. But it was Eris, it was his eyes and lips, his softness and adoration, it was the small boy you had grown up looking out for always without him even knowing it.

Swallowing hard, you moved closer to him, feeling electric as his fingers curled around the curve of your jaw, "Yes."

Eris lowered his lips to yours an he hovered there for a moment, preparing himself for the moment he had always desired, with the woman he couldn't get out of his mind. His lips were soft against yours, it was like kissing the sun, it was soul-consuming and scorching; his lips moved with yours as his hands ran down your spine to rest on the small of your back, pressing you further into him and slipping his tongue into your mouth when you broke for a moment to breathe.

It was a feeling you wanted to bask in forever, you felt light curl around you, you felt his warmth wrap you up in its embrace, you felt his lips on yours and his nose brushing against the tip of your own.

Fisting your fingers through his hair, you used his shoulders for leverage as he placed you on the countertop, your hands delved into his jacket and ran down his chest, and his gripped the skin of your thighs. Reluctantly, Eris paused before it went any further, exhaling deeply whilst resting his forehead against your own, "As much as I want to make you mine," his eyes delved into your own, "Our first time together deserves to be magical, and alone."

"Too right."

Freezing in position, you turned your head to find Lucien stood in the doorway, shirtless with his hand covering his eyes, peeking at you through his fingers. Eris threw his head back and groaned, cradling your head to his chest to hide your clear embarrassment from Lucien finding you both in a compromising position.

"I'm not judging," Lucien teased, "I just didn't expect to come in here to see you two with your tongues down each other's throats."

"Stop talking," you squeaked, cringing at his booming laugh, you blocked out the words from Eris, and instead waited until he scooped you into his arms, continuing to hide you from Lucien as he carried you upstairs and nestled into the bed with you.

Eris was bare bar his undergarments, his scarred chest shone in the firelight and you found yourself tracing the swirls idly whilst he pressed kisses into your hairline, allowing his thumb to stroke against your cheek.

"Tomorrow we'll figure out how to put a stop to this," he sounded so sure, but you knew he was scared, he held you a touch tighter as he spoke, "And then we'll live the life that we want to live."

His optimism was wounding.

Rhys was never going to stop, you knew him well enough to know that once he wanted something he would never halt his efforts to claim it.

After hours of serene chatter, you kissed Eris and told him to rest. As the firelight flickered to lifeless ash, when you knew that Eris was sound asleep and dreaming of you, you slipped from the bed.

Elain stood before the oven with a faint smile on her lips, excited to prod you with questions after what Lucien had so luckily found the night before.

Simmering sun poured through the windows, the storm had broke and the sun shone overhead, cascading her heavenly glow across the grass, caressing her animals as her light spread over Autumn. Birdsong chirped through the slightly ajar window, but Elain's smile had drifted, and her eyes had turned a milky white.

Night. Stars. Snow-capped mountains. A grey dress fit for a princess floating along the Sidra.

Gasping, Elain inhaled, she engulfed the air in her lungs, trying to locate you within it. But there was nothing there.

The shatter of the glass bowl in her hands was enough to cause both Nesta and Lucien to rush into the room, poised to attack, but faltering when they saw the wild look in Elain's eye, "Have you seen y/n? I had a vision."

"What vision, Elain?" Nesta approached Elain tentatively, her palms outstretched to connect with her sisters arms.

Elain gripped onto Nesta, "Of snow-capped mountains and a sky full of stars, of the dress she wore to Helion's party the day she denounced the Night Court drifting along the Sidra. I heard her crying."

Nesta snapped her gaze to Lucien, gasping when she saw Eris stood behind him, his gaze low and pulsating with fire as his chest rose and fell so fast that Nesta thought his heart would stop beating entirely. The room became hot, too hot, swelteringly so, and Eris brushed against Lucien as he approached the two Archeron sisters.

Placing his palms on the countertop, the same one where only hours before he was holding you and meeting your confessions with his own, Eris growled, low, and possessive, "Where is my mate?"

Author's Note

I am burning rn.

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