#like the sea is a harsh mistress after all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kinok0s-writings · 2 years ago

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A late Valentine's Day gift for @bones-of-a-rabbit, I hope you and anyone else who reads enjoy!

The Sea-star and the Eclipse

The waves pushed against the wooden vessel sailing through them with a playful vigor, emerald waters choosing to be pacified this morning with their lulled sway, the breeze lax as it barely pushed against cared for sails, -one could blow against them and it would have the same effect. The wind carried the calls of ocean borne creatures, the morning gossip of nereid nymphs and the lull of a siren's call if one truly focused, the sun began its slow climb into the sky while letting those under its rays feel the warmth sought after as the seasons changed over seas. The sea itself held an enchanting shine this day, her usually murky waters held an appealing blue undertone to compliment the emerald shine she chose to wear today, a shade able to rival the richest of dyes, the skies holding a few clouds golden with the residue shades of sunrise and a calming tone blossoming from a fading magenta. A jovial tune joined the drifting gossip in the breeze as it rumbled out of your chest, attention occupied elsewhere while you searched through the horizon using your trusted spyglass; a beautifully crafted object made of cared for wood, combined with selectively chosen sea glass, and branded with a family crest that now only belongs to the lone sailor. It took the instinctive steadying of your body and a learned patience with the waves, but eventually after some moments had floated past like jellyfish caught in a riptide you could make out your targeted location in the near distance, a smile of anticipation emerging from the sight. Putting the tool away in the side of your belt you left the forecastle deck to change tack quickly lest you dared to miss the few and far in between gusts of crisp ocean air able to actually help move you to your destination. The captain’s ship wasn’t as small and nimble as most merchant boats come by, yet it wasn’t as large and regal as the militia or even pirate ships, your home upon the water was a perfect compromise of all the other vessels tied up nicely into one design. It was the most desirable for a sailor who wanted to hold more wares in the hold than other merchants, yet still keep it small enough that it was manageable with your lone person, all while holding onto some of the mobility others could only dream of. Of course that didn’t mean living on your lonesome upon this ship was anywhere close to being able to be described as easy work, often you would have to stay up and spend several sleepless nights battling with Poseidon, but it was what you preferred. Even though you could, you never would be able to settle down for an easy life, where was the fun in going through day by day if not with a challenge, albeit a challenge of routine? Admittedly, it was this very mindset that led you to more of the questionable adventures, like swimming in the ocean’s harsh waters for artifacts she tried to hide from your curious reach, or sometimes taking the paths no right minded captain would take without a death wish. If it wasn’t blatantly obvious by the occasional scar that decorated your skin, death was a mistress you often danced with for simply the thrill of the tale, and you've yet to stumble in your waltz together. While steering the rudder you held a concentrated gaze in your illuminated eyes, the sunlight reflecting the water's shine within your focused hues, giving a passionate effect to the emotions you refused to hide from the world, as you directed your ship towards the craggy cliffs, confident in your ability to traverse the waves.

Despite the misleading friendly name the cliffs had, no sailor wanted to sail through the anxiously narrow gap between them unless desperate, for it was rumored few if any passed through the cliffs alive, often by a trip only to be finished by a crew member having to man the decks alone without captain. Anyone who has listened to the drunken sailors at inns knew of the creature that populated the sharp rocks, living in underwater caves by the pass, killing off most of those who did manage to make it through unless they gave an offering to appease it. The matter at hand simply came down to whether those listening would believe the tales or not, and the fact they were brave, -or stupid, enough to physically sail through despite the warnings. You personally had come across creatures of myths while living on these waters before and lived to tell the tale, so rumors of a rampaging monster within the waters of the cliffs carried in the distant wind, you couldn't refuse the opportunity to find fact from fiction. It was your first passing through when you met him, and it was a memory you'll always look back on with a laugh, even if you couldn’t share the situation with any drinking buddies.

You could feel the adrenaline flooding into your fingertips as you grew closer to the craggy cliffs, knuckles going white with how tightly you held the wooden wheel, it was time to test if rumors were really just mere rumors, and hopefully make it out alive to tell the tale. The dark clouds over head were overlooked by your anticipating eyes, and you seemed to disregard the fact that the scent of geosmin had become stronger than a mere handful of moments ago.

As if mirroring the memory, the captain pushed themselves into motion, watching the currents keen eye as you shifted to try and pull your boat away from the jagged rocks that upturned like claws trying to carve into the wooden walls, an attempt to reopen healed scars. They were black and the water made them look oily, even in the beautiful light of such a nice day often forcing the you to run from the locked rudder wheel, -done by wedging it with an angled stick, to the ropes of the masts. It looked like such a tiring workout, but by simply observing your movements one could see the practice etched into every step, be it from how steady you pulled the ropes into place to how swift each footfall was, holding swift purpose in every action. You kept running through your routing to steer yourself into the near needle like opening leading to the cave that only those willing to face the rumored sea monster, a place nearly having gone undiscovered if not for by mere chance.

You grit your teeth while trying to make sense of anything through the pouring rain, raindrops falling so harshly it might as well have been hail striking your body to create such a similar stinging impact, you've nearly lost your footing several times already. Nearly stumbling you heard wood creak and were reminded of the fact you were far from happy with how close your dear ship has gotten to being pierced with those gnarly claws. It wasn't supposed to be such a cutthroat tango with the mistress, but to stumble like this when you had such a reputation to uphold was fiercely irritating, with only you to blame. The signs of the changing weather had all been there, you were just too caught up in the possibilities, making the storm feel as if had been sudden. Nearly out of anguish you sputtered liters off your lips and shook your head like a wet dog trying to get rid of the never-ending mask of rain and seawater, but it was during the shaking did your eye catch something. Was…was that a tail? It was a striking color, shaped like no fishtail you've ever seen, and it looked to have headed port, -directly into the cliffs, which was only odder due to the fact proceeding starboard was the way to leave, wait, no that wasn't as perplexing as you originally thought. Taking a hand to wipe a new layer of water off of your face, drops sticking to your eyelashes like dewdrops on spider webs, you directed the focus you could spare after the creature and where it vanished, searching with a newfound urgency, only to be rewarded with the sight of a small opening leading into what looked to be a cave large enough to shelter you for the night. It was risky, and whatever you saw could ambush you and your ship, but it wasn't as if you had many options, every other possibility washed away with every falling raindrop slapping your skin, the wind biting into your matted clothing and hair; you were going to be lucky if you didn't end up getting sick after this. Steeling your disposition you quickly changed tack to steer into the suffocating tight space, feeling as if you were drowning as the rain continued its cascading torrent while being shoved with a bullying force by the stressed waves. Despite it all though, with the new objective in mind, it was you who intertwined their fingers with a confident grip, taking the lead of the dance with lady death, refusing to go down without a fight.

The sailor slowly steered the ship portside, that jovial tune leaving your lips again with the near careless smile keeping the corners of your mouth upturned, a wordless noise encouraging itself the more it progressed, the few avians using the crevices in the rocks as nests seemed to even join in. It felt as if you've cut through the tight gap a hundred times, feeling none of the first time stress as the rocking waves passively pushed the vessel into the mouth of the somewhat hidden cave, the gold wrung out of they sky by now with the happy cobalt blue having taken over. Soon the bright sunlight was muted into dimmer tones, -which by all means was still fairly bright, by the stone ceiling engulfing your ship like a greedy frogfish, and the captain could hear another join the tune, a voice much more gifted when it came to songs in your opinion. Your smile could only brighten as you carefully lowered the anchor and raised the sails to tie them off, listening as another body moved through the echoing water, every sound reverberating throughout the rocky walls. Once you were sure all was set so your home didn't try to get close and personal to the dark minerals surrounding you, you leaned over the railing to look at the just as if not more than happy ocean borne waiting for you to notice he was present. Said companion once realizing you were indeed focusing on him,- a realization you could visibly watch as the smile filled with nothing but friendly pointed teeth broadened, opened his arms with expectancy, wanting you to jump into his arms so he could carry you down as you've done several times beforehand. The admittedly very appealing option could only make you laugh softly in appreciation even as you shake your head in refusal, disappearing to gather a rope ladder with delight when your large friend is in such a good mood. The thought was tugging at the back of your mind that it was nearly hilarious how today of all days would be so much of quite literally smooth sailing as it has been, even taking the time to excitedly recall your plan while you disappeared into your quarters to gather a large basket set aside in preparation of the hours to come. Taking but a momentary pause to make sure something specific was tucked safely within it, an object with enough weight you had to use genuine effort to move it, -a stark difference to its typically smaller near weightless counterparts, and enough meaning that could have easily doubled the energy spent carrying it alone. You made sure to keep a quick pace, not wanting to let your long tailed companion be forced to wait more than necessary, and the pleased trill that greeted your descending figure was enough reassurance to tide over your clouded mind for the day in comforting waves, as if the threat of fog had been blown away all at once. Steadily you scaled down the ladder until your feet were firm against the flooring, keeping you waist deep in the cool ocean water, occasional fits of warmer temperatures flowing in until shoved away lazily, the basket now being held above your head and pointedly away from the other. The aquatic creature moved to happily follow the land borne, curiously trying to reach for the basket and see what was packed only to be swatted away playfully, followed by a tutting click of your tongue, laughter upon your lips.

"Ah ah ah! Patience, you'll see what's in there soon Eclipse, but first, I have to ask, have you ever heard of valentine's day?"

A thoughtful expression passed across his features as he thought about the question, but it was obvious his mind was filled with sluggish minnows this morning, until eventually a defeated huff escaped him before he went with plan b, mischief in his scales. You knew it was coming, but still you couldn't hold in your amused chuckles as large webbed hands wrapped themselves around your being, easily lifting you up out of the water to be set tenderly on the rocky shore, -an area out of reach of the sea that was more of a mini island than shore, soon a large frilled head pressing into your side with a pair of dilated pupils; you still don't know how he learned to do such powerful puppy dog eyes. You shook your head as you gave one of his hands a pat, silently asking to be let go as you lowered the basket down beside your lap before you gently pet the sides of his head, pretending to look stern even if you both knew you were a sucker for the basilisk's ways. His continued to poke and tug on you like a curious child, tilting his head in your hold every now and then as he humored you, trying to keep your attention on him so you would give in when he obviously had no answer, that or he just wanted you to tell him so he can see the inside of the basked sooner. You were usually a lot more stubborn with these situations, but you decided that the suspense was truly killing him, -especially as the dramatic guppy made it very clear that was in fact what was happening, and chose to show him mercy, although it was sooner than you figured he could have lasted, only early noon. You could hear his tail splashing the water in despite his mocking show of withering away, all it took was a couple pats calling for attention before he revived himself, eager to hear what you were about to say.

"Well, Valentine's day is a day where we celebrate our loved ones. Couples, friends, and oftentimes family members will trade each other gifts to show their love and spend time together, a day of letting each other know they care. Many even use it as the day to confess romantic feelings. I can't say I know how it all started, but I can say I know its a lovely day to have a celebration, and I couldn't think of any better way other than to spend it with my favorite mate."

You couldn't help but watch fondly as he visibly registered the words, watching you speak like a child happy to learn, hanging onto every syllable with the same merit of climbing a cliff, and it was endearing to know just how important you seemed to be to him in order to stir this reaction from him. The fondness turned into giddy amusement as you watched his bewitching eyes widen when he realized the telling of your plan, specifically the fact you were going to give him a gift; you figured you’d give it after you both ate the arrangement of dishes you cooked the night prior, that way you both would be full enough to laze about comfortably The cry of a passing bird cut through without much disregard, evicting a chorus of responses, the comforting smell of the sea floating aimlessly in the cave not being overwritten by the aromas of the food in the basket, even coercing some curious feather bodies to see if there was slivers they could steal. It was relaxing, and staying with your favorite buddy you couldn’t feel any more at peace, because as much as you wouldn’t admit how you oftentimes felt on the ship one your own, -you were alone not lonely, there was something so charming to have such an intelligent being want to spend time with you as much as you did, curious of each other’s worlds. The lull of the waves bumping into the rocks around the two of you held a specific pattern, a reassuring sound telling of the power they had, even as you could distinct the noise of the strong tail hitting them, splashing with a happy sashay that reminded you of a dog off on mainland, and you distinctly had the urge to pet him just as much. Instantly you did what you could to sear these waking moments into your memory, it all was so vibrant even in the shade of the rocky shelter holding it all in its cupped palms, you couldn’t imagine forgetting how every breath shared between the two of you was filled with such content, it may as well come out of a myth. But, in a sense, that’s what he was supposed to be, wasn’t it? Chuckling you nodded in excited reply to his metal observation before turning away to begin setting the day’s activities out around you, pulling out the several containers of dishes, -most of the contents was food to appease your basilisk friend’s appetite, until you got to a collection of books. Once the leather bound bundle of stories were stacked behind you you grabbed the final thing inside, only you may have made a slight show of quickly hiding it out of sight nestled in your lap once you realized how he was intently watching everything pulled out, and the confused ‘mrr’ that sounded out as his head nudged your legs with gentle hands attempting to discover what you had hid made it worth it. You both were obviously encouraging each other with playful prodding, -something that could only make you appreciate the friendship you have somehow more than you already do, before you finally gave him a shove laughing, hiding the object under your jacket as you somehow had ended up onto your back in the small battle.

“No, that's your valentine’s gift! Now listen here you overgrown noodle, I figured we can eat the food I slaved over in the kitchen to make, then I'll give it to you, alright? Now come on, the sooner we get started, the more daylight we have to finish off that one book and start a new one."

After you situated yourself back into an upright position you wasted no time in uncovering the plates of food, the warmth they gave off instantly getting sucked away into the breeze, curious birds very noticeably edging themselves over in a horrid attempt to be sneaky with the presence of such a dangerous predator. The smile on your face began to slip though as you realized Eclipse seemed to go still, you couldn't even hear the splashing of his tail, so you looked up with slight concern, wondering what was swimming around in his head. What you saw didn't exactly reassure you either, there was a shadowy glint in his eyes, one you knew almost too well, and you tilted your head to try and get his optics to focus back onto you. His eyes were one of the many characteristics you loved about him, the optics that had undoubtedly taken the lives of so many before you, but you could never bring yourself to fear those enchanting colors, the way the specks of violet bled into the near golden orange like spilled paint. They just drew you in like the light bouncing within carved gemstones, and you were alright with that. What you weren't alright with was how his thoughts looked to have bit into his tail like a parasite, the vice grip in their jaws must have been uncomfortable as he began slowly sinking into the water, an action that stirred you into getting up to approach him slowly, hands outreached for his own. Shadows of dark whispers had begun swirling in your own mind nipping at your thoughts and despite how the day had been going you couldn't help but wonder if his sudden change in demeanor was due to something you've done, did you offend him? Were you too forward in assuming he would want to spend the entire day with you? Did you use the wrong words to describe your intentions again?

"Hey big guy, penny for your-"

Your words were cut off as his gaze locked into your own, nearly knocking you breathless as it felt as if he only just then remembered you were there, and then suddenly swam away like you had hollered at him. It felt like one of those shadows gave up for nibbles and instead took a bite of you to swam off with him, your hands still left in the air as you were frozen, watching his figure disappear into the fingers of outreached minerals, only able to register, yes, he did in fact just leave you to your own devices, as the only remnants of his presence were the disturbances in the water he so swiftly glided through. You had half a mind to chase after him be it by swimming or by rowing in the yawl, but even at your best you were a beached flounder compared to the ribbon eel in his natural element, your hands lowering in defeat as it dawned you all you could do now was to hope he returned. You were sure he had his reason for leaving you, surely he would be back, but even if you came up with enough reasons to overflood the seven seas it didn't make it hurt any less, you could only angrily shoo the birds stealing scraps of the food to vent out your confused anger. Not at him, but to you. You went ahead and planned ahead that the two of you would stay together well after the moon hung over your heads so even the stars hear your tales and wordless songs that could hold more meaning words would have ever given them, you planned this without him. You should have asked, you shouldn't have just jumped ship assuming he would be fine with it, sure the day was perfect for you, but was it for him? You should have run it by him beforehand to make sure he could tell you in the off chance that he was uncomfortable with the fact, instead you just sprung this upon him blinded with the image of smiles unable to leave your faces. Your thoughts turned against you, murmurs of berating words leaving your lips as you audibly cursed your stupidity until you decided that pacing around putting the sailors at the bars at mainland to shame would do you no good, especially if Eclipse decided to return. Your efforts of sailing here and preparing for this day have already been spent with the intent to stay over night and by Poseidon's trident, you were going to enjoy your planned stay with or without your anticipated guest. The overwhelming swarm of shadows couldn't keep up with you long enough to begin infiltrating your school of thoughts, you wouldn't let them as you busied yourself with the distraction of tasks that had to be done, probably looking like a curious reef fish exploring new spouts of coral. A blanket was cast across the rock floor, -out of reach of any rising tides, with a small tent made out of other blankets and a few pillows to cover you and the food; you had begun to grow tired with shooing away those thieving birds, you hadn't rung them a dinner bell and so help their bloodline if you barely miss getting poo'd on again they were going to be tomorrow's dinner. When you had done all that you could find needing to be done you decided that it wouldn't hurt for you to revisit one of your favorite list of fables with the dishes you never got to eat, even if you never touched the ones set to the side for a certain basilisk as they were drizzled with doubt, would he return to eat his serving?

The sunlight once seeping into the cave in powerful beams had crawled more into the waters than against the walls, the sun itself having slipped lower into the horizon as your fingers combed through the cared for pages and traced the leather cover, hues focused on each words that painted a lovely story in your mind's eyes, -a story needn't be grand and outlandish to be considered good in your opinion, when a bit of light was reflected into your gaze. Pausing you set the book to the side, your attention now on the object partially covered by the jacket you had shed in the spur of your work as your hands moved closer to retrieve the object, the black glossy surface triggering your very instinctive 'oo, shiny' reaction to the light making it sparkle, -the realization elicited a small amused smile on your lips. The surface was cool to the touch, but it wasn't biting, and despite it being larger than others, it felt comfortable to hold in your palms with a good weight. You turned it around in your hold absentmindedly, a finger tracing the the flaws caused by age forced into the strange surface that shone like metal, before moving onto the runes etched into it, markings that you knew you couldn't even attempt to comprehend. It was a language that, like the artifact itself, was from an era lost to legend. Your placated mind began to stir with mixed emotions, your hope had begun dwindling as the shadows made from escaping sunlight grew larger, and you even wondered if he would like such a gift, let alone know why you thought it had such importance. A small spiteful part of you was tempted to simply toss it into the waves and let him find it on his own, -their slow pace had lost the calming appeal to now seem just downright antagonistic, but you instead tucked it back under your jacket in favor of the plate holding biscuits before returning to bury yourself back into familiar arms of the old superstitious myths you believe wholeheartedly. You let time flow past while you read, the sun feeling to move like a drifting jellyfish with reckless abandon, the tides had slowly begun to rise while reaching for the moon, - not quite high tide yet, as the waves gained more momentum in their lazy dance. You had since lit a lantern to brighten the pages of your second book, the first having been finished long enough for a chunk of this one to have been read, when the sounds of water stirring forcefully met your ears, causing you to immediately perk up. With scales vibrant enough that even in the darkening waters you could see every perfect imperfection, a crown of frills and horns making his head look like a sun, and a tail long enough it could wrap around the width of your ship twice, you watched as the creature you were far from certain would even return cut through the water effortlessly in order to approach the shore you were nestled on top of. As he rose from the water you sprung to your feet, ready to get answers and apologize in the chance you truly had done something wrong, giving him no chance to swim off again before at least hearing you out with every step you took.

"Eclipse! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry if I had upset you, why'd you swim off like that? I was scared you weren't coming back."

You didn't really expect much, so when he quite animatedly hid something behind his back with two of his arms sporting a bright grin of someone who had a secret to share, it probably was one of the least scenarios you could have seen coming once he returned. Seeing your confusion a low chuckle rumbled from his chest as his other set of hands began to make gestures, specific motions slow enough that you could pick up, and once you did the emotion you could recognize most among your internal near-overfilling pot was pride. Had he been practicing? After a few moments of processing you suddenly felt bashful for how quickly you had assumed the negative side of things, running a hand through your hair with a sigh before making eye contact with those gems you treasured more than any rock you could find in the sea.

'Needed gift for mate.'

"But you didn't, I wasn't expecting, actually, you know what? I can't wait. Here's an idea, knowing how excited we both are to see, why don't we exchange our gifts now and eat later, don't move alright?"

You chuckled at the reluctant yet happy nod you received, knowing he probably wanted to go first but the anticipation of his own was more than enough to sweeten the deal for him to go along with your small demand. You pointedly decided to ignore how despite the chill becoming noticeable in the breeze without the light of the sun to warm its touch you could feel how your cheeks grew warm or the fact that with just the simple action you couldn't keep the smile off your face. You kept the jacket draped over his gift to keep it hidden until the last moment, and while you turned to approach them again, you hesitated as the air left your lungs. He was watching your every move intently, the gleam in his eyes made his powerful gaze have a lovestruck appearance, it was such an unbashful raw emotion put on display for your eyes and your eyes only to see it made your heart flutter in an unmistakable way. Filling your lungs with air again you gave him a genuine smile and pushed yourself forward, unable to hide the fact that the mere presence of the ocean borne could dispel any worry clouding your being, a ray of sunlight that scared off the unwanted shadows and the glow of the moon that gave comfort to the lost sailors. As you got close enough he extended a hand after noticing how it took both of yours to hold whatever was under the jacket, and once in his palm you pulled the clothing off like a magician. hilariously enough his palm had dwarfed the object to look like the usual versions of it, but after a curious coo you weren't sure he realized escaped him you immediately began to give him some context, missing the vague flash of recognition in his eyes.

"Remember that one tale, the sailor and the moon? Well you know how the moon gave him that device to guide him to the love of his life, right? As I was sailing one day I was swept into uncharted waters that took me to a lagoon, and things started to feel familiar like I had seen them before, or at least heard of it. Well I fished around in this waterlogged head of mine and by the time I could see the pieces of sunken timber I realized I knew where I was not in the sense I had been there before, but instead because I had read about it. I did some swimming, -don't give me that look I made sure it was safe first, and came across the compass seemingly from myth."

While you spoke it was if the world silenced itself so nothing would interrupt you as you changed your focus from his face to the artifact in question, excitedly opening it and pointing out everything you've discovered about it after countless hours spent examining it since you pulled it from the wreckage, from the strange runes to the small things that was just as described in the tale. Of course you were fully aware of the possibility it was just random compass, after all it wasn't uncommon for replicas to be made from the old sea tale, -a tribute of admiration and oftentimes luck, but the sheer amount of coincidences in simply finding it alone was enough to make even the most pessimistic old sea dog to believe. As you talked, there was that heartwarming expression again, the one that made you feel like you were the brightest star in his night sky, the basilisk eagerly nodding along with your words in matching fascination, all as you were once again teaching him a new world with your mere fingertips. He looked on in what you dared to recognize as loving, your eventually realized your own expression must have been just as admiring as his own because when he realized you were finished talking after waiting for you to add something only to catch your gaze it looked like he was nearly overwhelmed with emotions. You could feel your breath catch in your throat as he leaned over with lidded eyes to press your foreheads together in what felt like a tender gesture of affection, and your heart tripped over itself as you could only press against him in similar fashion, only giving a slight nuzzle before taking a step back. In the excitement you nearly forgot this was a trade, -you weren't the only one, and it seemed that with a quick assessment between the two of you, it was only you that truly had the bashful awareness, his own adorable blush visible but he was so unwavering it looked like he knew exactly what he was doing, and you attempted to play it off by leaning over his shoulder in a half attempt of peeking at his clutched hands. Quickly he moved the other way and pulled it even further out of sight, the light of the lantern growing brighter than the natural source of light besides his ethereal hues, and even though you had spent most of the day in a fret on your own, it was moments like these that made up for it. You couldn't hold in your laughter as he mocked you earlier in the day, clicking his tongue in a 'tsking' manner before shifting the mysterious object into one palm and getting closer to you, the waves voicing their disturbance while forcefully folded into themselves as he leaned to grab a wrist with two hands, -guiding them into a bowl with his own moving to cup yours, and another covering your eyes. His hands were warm as they nearly engulfed your own, a strange softness to them as he gently held onto you even after something smooth and round was set into your awaiting palms just as the anticipation had begun poking too harshly into your patience reserves. You could hear his smooth breathing as your fingers grasped onto the object, every shift both felt and heard, and just as you were about to voice an impatient question he lifted the hand restricting your sight, killing the words on your tongue to replace them with a gasp of awe. In your palms was perhaps the biggest pearl you had ever seen, it was the size of a large orange with the weight to match, with colors you've never imagined to see on such a gem. The usual milky surface was instead composed of the abyss the deep dark parts of the twilight waters were made of, but while the last bits of the sunlight were sucked into the orb you could see the iridescent shine of violet and yellow tones, as is the sunset itself had dusted its colors into the flawless sphere. Your eyes began to sting with your very own saltwater at the beautiful gift as you moved, -the pearl clutched to your bosom with both palms cupped around it like it was but a delicate egg, looking at your observer with a smile so bright your cheeks hurt before kissing his cheek.

The blush that accompanied the dopey smile made up of friendly sharp teeth assured you the taste of seawater on your lips was worth the while as you admired your basilisk valentine. Carefully balancing your new prized possession in one palm you used the other to grab one of his hands to take him to your tent, big enough to be Eclipse proof, only to let go as you situated yourself in your resting area close to the dark waters. He followed immediately after, arms hugging your legs with his head resting upon your lap, the lantern's flame proudly being the both of your only light source as it illuminated both of your enchanted expressions, you had fallen under one another's spell and even though it wasn't easy neither would dare to complain. The moon had taken over by now, the stars speckled into the night sky were reflected so brightly you could see them shimmered in the restless waves, even as the near completely blackened emerald color was engulfing any chance to seeing whatever may lurk within. With Eclipse at your side, -or on top of you in the specifics, you couldn't really have a fear of the sea and her dangerous spawn, not when you were able to look at possibly one of her most life threatening children with such love and be have it be returned. The rest of that night you spent in each others presence lying by or on top of each other sharing food, reading stories, even coming up with new songs for the breeze to hear, until eventually you had fallen asleep to dream of the memories you've made today; shortly he joined you in sleep's embrace after watching your peaceful figure longingly with nothing but admiration. Land and ocean borne slept together that night, both unaware of the opened compass whose arrow spun until pointing at both of them, knowing their destination has been completed; connecting them with a love that the tides and the moon couldn't rival, a love to be as eternal as the sea.

#Basilisk eclipse #Fnaf daycare attendant #This took too long lol #Sailor y/n #writing #Sorry this is late

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mrmustachious · 2 years ago

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For Gordon’s birthday, I decided to put together a rec list of a bunch of Gordon fics I love! There are so many more I could rec, so these are just a few of the amazing fics out there. Feel free to add your faves too, whether that be your own ones you’ve written or fics by others you love! I’m sure Gordon would approve of sharing the love 💛

List below the cut because it got loooong

AO3

-Stars in the Sea by Fyoex

The Tracy family thought the hydrofoil accident had been left far behind them. But head trauma is a fickle beast that isn’t quite ready to let go.

-Scenes from Gordon’s Bedside by @gaviiadastra

One-shot exercises, connected by a family grieving, hoping, and trying to make sense of why. Blended Universe

-Gordon & Explosive Device & Storage Unit by @strongerwiththepack

Gordon's in trouble when an underwater storage facility explodes with him still inside.

(Note: I requested this so I am a little biased!)

-Risky Rockpools by @strongerwiththepack

The Tracy family get a reality check when they remember that living on an isolated island in the middle of the South Pacific ocean isn't actually all that safe.

-Being Gordon Tracy by @psychoseal

Gordon’s life story!

-Malfunction by shadowfox8

Gordon is enjoying some time in the ocean when Thunderbird 4 decides to play some tricks, giving our loveable prankster decompression sickness.

-Where the mermaids live by @fallenfurther

Gordon decides to cheat on an important test but is caught by the school bullies. They are happy to let him keep the grade as long as he does something for them. Gordon knows he's getting in deeper than he should, but the consequences go far beyond what he expected.

-The Most Dangerous Game by @godsliltippy

Scott and Gordon find themselves unwilling participants.

-Motionless by @godsliltippy

One can never expect a rescue mission to go smoothly when Langstrom Fischler is involved. Gordon knows this and yet, that information does him no good when lives are at stake and it's his job to get everyone out safely.

-Every time it snows by allandmore

A simple mountain rescue goes wrong for International Rescue. Gordon battles the elements and his memories, and Scott has a tough decision to make.

-An Aquanaut Walks Into a Bar... by Corby

Gordon has a conversation in a bar, and Virgil has strong opinions about that. Childhood memories, and the stories we tell ourselves and others.

-Picnic by ThatGirlSix

Every Tracy has a type of job they hate, be them car crashes, hotel fires, mine collapses, whatever. Gordon absolutely hates tornadoes with a passion. No, really, he hates tornadoes. His life would be so much better if they never did another tornado job ever again. The rest of the family is starting to think so, too.

-Consequences by @tracybirds

Gordon is in a bit of a bind, and the older bros will need to help him out of it in a big way.

-Tears Of The Ocean by @janetm74

The ocean is a harsh mistress and Gordon has been burned by her. Will Scott be able to help him get through this? A pre-iR, military bro's fic.

-No Accidents by Glazier Blue

Gordon thought the Hydrofoil crash was behind him. But there was a lot more to his "accident" than his family realised. It looks like the past with WASP has come back to finish what it started. Now Gordon's life hangs in the balance. Can his family stop history from repeating it self?

-Conformity by Figure in black

It was nothing...just a small boy grasping onto his understanding of language. He would soon grow out of it...

-My Brother’s Pain by FABThunderbird

Virgil and Gordon are both exhausted after a dangerous rescue. On their way home Virgil notices that Gordon is not only dealing with an injury, but he sees his brother struggling to open up about what he had witnessed during this rescue.

-Look Before You Reach by nhsweetcherry

Gordon experiences trouble on a rescue - all because he dropped his watch!

-A Tangled Web by crystalquirt

Something has caused heat and trace amounts of radiation in the deep sea. Thinking it volcanic, Gordon takes Thunderbird Four to be sure after John detected an unusual amount of dead sea life in the area. The water around the phenomenon has turned brownish yellow, all the way up to the surface. One species still thrive there.

My Fics!

Well I couldn’t make this without dropping some of my faves that I’ve written!

-Birthday Surprise

It's Gordon's birthday and the first one since his dad came home. He deserves a great day, doesn't he? Maybe not.

(Note: It’s his birthday, I had to include this one!)

-Into the Spider’s Nest

When Gordon comes across something he was never meant to see, he ends up tangled in a potentially deadly web made up of his worst nightmares. His chances of getting out dwindle with each passing day, but when he finds someone just as stuck as he is, they may end up becoming each other’s lifeline, as well as their only chance to make it home.

-Not Ever

Gordon has a confession to make, and Penelope feels like the worst girlfriend ever.

-Just Keep Swimming

A nice, relaxing day on Tracy Island leads to Gordon discovering something that shouldn't exist.

-Breathless

The one scene that was missing from the finale, plus all the scenes that led up to that moment.

-these drugs, they separate me from my mind

Gordon has big dreams. He is going to make it far, and knows he has what it takes to get there. Until one day he is offered an easier, faster way to get to where he wants to be. The only problem is it goes against everything he believes, but maybe he should take the opportunity whilst he has it?

-Sleep Under the Fish

One day, a strange boy appeared on Penelope's beach. And then he disappeared. Little did she know about the world that lived beneath the sea, and what that one encounter would open her up to. A Thunderbirds/Luca AU

To-read Recs

So I have yet to read any of these, but they are just a few of the fics I have marked for later that seem interesting! And I thought it would be fun to rec them in case others find them interesting too (yes I am behind on a lot of fics!)

-Live and learn by Scherzandro

Scott and his brother have been at odds since Gordon joined International Rescue a couple of months back, but when the pair are stranded in hostile territory they might just learn a thing or two about each other, if they live long enough...

-One Word by alchemistsarego

If Gordon Tracey was asked to describe his current situation in a single word, that word would be ‘uncomfortable’. Now of course being trapped in a volcanic cave with only his radio as a source of light while covered not only in his own sweat but his blood also, the word didn’t quite do what he was experiencing justice. In fact, there were many other words that would describe it better. Claustrophobic. Terrified. In agony, perhaps.

-Tracy Seaside Orchard and Farm by @gaviiadastra

An alternate universe. Gordon has a successful farm... and seems to have nothing to do with this International Rescue thing.

-The Heart of Te Fiti by Eraman

So this is gonna be a major AU which will mostly follow the plot of Moana/Vaiana with many changes. Gordon hears the sea calling him, but with his three older brothers missing and his father forbidding him from going near the ocean what is Gordon to do? He knows there is something he and Alan has to do, something only they can do but how can they when they are not allowed to leave?

-Terrors in Space by @godsliltippy

Just a routine space rescue. Sure. "Routine"

There’s soo so many more fics I could add here, but I need to stop at some point lol. But like I said, if anyone else has any more recs, they can drop them below. I’m sure there’s many fics even I haven’t read yet! Anyways, I hope at least someone found something here they like, and if you did, be sure to drop a comment on whatever you read 💛💛

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #gordon tracy #fic recs #thunderbirds fanfiction

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camilbarnessss · 2 years ago

Text

¤ The Dance of The Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 9 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, angst, family toxicity and drama, mentions of abortion, references to sex, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

Lovers Island's beach and hills watches as the green huge dragon who always nests in it takes off from the white sand while she growls, and purrs, exhausted.

Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon of the world, abandoned the island some minutes ago, and now flaps her green wings in a sky that dawns. The clouds are heavy, for they more mist than anything, and the breeze is cold. The stars are fading away in the air, and the moon is getting everytime smaller, invisible, and insignificant.

We cannot say the same about prince Aemond's feelings, though.

The One-Eyed Prince faces the borning sun of the new day as he holds his saddle with firmness, but weariness, if that makes sense. His long white hair, disheveled, falls in his back, a little bit curly because of the damp of his island. His leather clothes are wrinkled, for he slept in the bare sand of the beach, the reason of why his back aches, as well as his shoulders and legs.

His night, sincerely, was horrible. The worst of his life, he'd dare to say. The prince, after being left alone by his crying heart-broken wife, wept iron tears and yelled cursed words until he couldn't even hold himself anymore. Filled of grief, despair, anguis and angriness, Aemond pulled out the sapphire of his eye's socket, throwing it away, and cried until he fainted, right in the shores, wrapped by the white sand and a the breeze of the cold waves in the sea. He only woke up because Vhagar came for him at The Hour of the Nightingale, after hours of having fly away, waking him up with light touches of her warm smoky nose, and purrs from deep her throat.

Then, and just then, the prince left the island, finding a new arriving day. Let us be honest, he cried again at the moment of remembering what happened last night, but didn't allow himself much grief, for he decided it was time to go back to his home, and there he'd cry more, and see his wife again. So, after finding his sapphire in the sand, and washing it with a cup of clean water from the hut he priorly drink of, he stared at the Pentosi painting of them in it for nearly half an hour, and then the prince and his dragon left Lovers Island, their secret place.

Soon enough, Vhagar found herself soaring near King's Landing, arriving to its shores. While doing so, Aemond looked at The Red Keep, gulping with nerves when thinking about Daera, and how it willl be to see her face after last night's acts. The nerves are not too strong, though, for he only wishes to see her, and nothing more. His mind hasn't changed. The pain and sadness brought by his doings are one thing, but he still doesn't regret them at all. Why would he? He made the hard decision. The smart one. However, he still desires to meet with his mistress, to kiss her, and finally talk right while they cuddle in the green silk bed-sheets of him. Perhaps he'll ask her to sing him, afterwards. Oh, he definetely will.

But, when the prince looked down, his blond brows came to furrow.

First, he looked at the beach's shore, where his dragon usually nests with The Golden Ray when he is at the capital. Weird, then, it is that there is no trace od the golden beast, anywhere. Secondly, alreadly confused, he glanced at the royal harbour, just to find the ship of his half-sister, Rhaenyra, totally gone. No trace of his wife's dragon, or her family's boat.

Did she...? No no, she couldn't have.

Aemond walked into The Red Keep by the front gate, walking firm and quick, hiding all the pain of his body and heart. He goes with his arms crossed behind his back, and his black leather patch covering his bone-chilling sapphire.

It is still the early morning, where the castle is supposed to be still asleep, but he notices too many servants walking around, all of them turning their heads to look at the floor when they walk, really quickly, pass him. Aemond started to carefully peer around as he walks, silently confused. There are plenty of eyes in him, more than normal, and for longer than normal. Why?, he wonders. He doesn't understand. Is there something he doesn't knwo? He hates this feeling. Is Daera okay? Is Daera here?

Aemond hums, low, hearing all the whispers from around. But, not minding them much, he tsks his tongue, fastly running out of patience.

-Excuse me-. Polite, and serious, he suddenly stopped a servant boy, one of young age, and nervous brown eyes, which looked up at him within a second when he stopped.

-My prince-, the boy bows, whispering, gulping.

-Where can I find the princess Rhaenyra, would you happen to know?-. He asks, not daring to ask about Daera herself. As much as he loathes his half-sister, it is a better person to ask for than his "lover of the past", for she is so according to the gossiping servants themselves.

-The princess and her family left the capital all at The Hour of The Owl, my prince-. The servant answered with a low tone, playing with his fingers behind his back.

Aemond stays blinkless, though the insides or him twitched with bemusement.

-All of them?-. He questions, serious.

-Her lord husband and their eight children whole, my prince-. The boy affirms, repeatedly nodding.

Aemond didn't need to count, he knows the number by heart. Three bastards, two brats, two one-year old and...the love of his live. Daera has left the capital, then...right after she fled their discussion.

The One-Eyed Prince just looked away, clenching his jaw, and taking the conversation for ended. The servant boy, though, kept staring at him for three more seconds, until a thin nervous whisper left his thirsty brown lips.

-...My deepest sympathies for your loss, my prince-. The boy muttered. And as fast as he said it, as fast he left, turning around to quickly walk away.

Prince Aemond froze in that very instant, strongly furrowing his brows and following the boy with his gaze, bemused. His heart starts to beat quickly and nervously, so lost in the middle of all this discretions and whispers. And, speaking of whispers...

When Aemond started to listen more closely to the low mumbles being muttered around him by the servants, his attentive ears started to catch a common word that was being repeated over and over. And that is when his heart truly stopped.

-The King...-

-Viserys!-

-...The King-

His father.

Aemond stumbled, taking a step back with his eye wide opened. His mind went blank, and them suddenly exploded with a hundred different thoughts. Questions, ponderings, doubts.

Is what I am hearing hearing true? Is it, what I am understanding, just by the mere listening of murmurs? No, no. There is someone who will clear the things for him. This cannot be happeing, not now! We're not ready!

Aemond mouthed the word "mother ", and immediately turned around, walking the stairs up towards Maegor's Holdfast as his chest was pounding with quickness and jitteriness.

■ ■ ■

A beautiful embroidery of a red sophisticated spider is the one princess Helaena's kind hands are sewing, at the moment, with total delicacy and patience.

The princess is at her mother's rooms, by herself with her children, and her handmaiden, Claudia. Helaena brought the kids early to their grandmother's chambers, but they didn't find her in here, for some reason. Either ways, too tired -she doesn't knows why- to walk back to her apartments, Helaena instead decided to remain here, calmly.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her sweetests, are seated on the floor as they play with their toys, babbling from time to time. Claudia, seated with them as well, watches them play with a tiny smile on her lips, keeping silence.

As the dear princess sews her spider, she blinks, thouthful. Last night, before seeing Daera leaving the capital, they both shared a very sad moment in her cousin's very chambers. Turns out she won't be an aunt anymore, because her brother, Aemond, regretted it after finding out his child would be a bastard.

When hearing the news, Helaena's heart broke in two. She didn't only feel her own pain, but her brother and cousin's too. She felt Daera's deep sadness and disappointment, like her brightest dream had been crushed before her eyes, and perhaps it was. And she feelt Aemond's shame, despair and helpless, for his lateness on the realization on the matter only brought more pain to him, and to his wife. Helaena's own sadness comes from the fact of their broken hope of having a child of their own. If she just could do something, she would, the dearest thinks.

Alyssa. That would have been such a pretty name, for her niece. She would had pamper her as much as her children's godsparents pamper them. They are too good, Daera and Aemond.

Helaena raises her gaze for a second, and she sees Jahaerys taking a wooden dragon toy from his sister's hand, snatching it away. While Claudia immediayely gave the girl another toy, their mother keeps paying mind to what she saw.

Aemond comes to her mind.

Her young brother seems to be a cursed one, she sometimes dares to think. He has always been jealous of Aegon, she knows, for he doesn't behaves as a decent person should, as an older brother should, as a male firstborn should. He also loathes Jace, their nephew, because he is the actual husband to his wife, in the public eye, and to the eye of everyone in general. Aemond doesn't has the opportunity of proving himself worthy of a crown, for the gods cursed him to be born as a second son. Then, he lost the opportunity of being a father because the child would be seen as Jace's, and not his.

Doesn't matter how destiny keeps telling him things, it just seems like...- Helaena will put it into words.

-It is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another-. The princess suddenly speaks her mind, thoughtful. Claudia silently listens while she plays with the kids, still not used to her sudden chats. Helaena breathes in, feeling she wasn't clear enough-. If one possesses a thing, the other will...take it away-, she softly says.

-Yes, princess-. Claudia turned her head to look at her, giving her a warm quick smile.

Helaena smiles for a moment as well, closing her lips and nodding with easiness, feeling listened.

All feeling of easiness disappeared as soon as the doors of the room are suddenly opened, making them to look there. It is Queen Alicent who enters, along with The Hand, both of them noticeably hurried and alerted.

-Where is Aegon?-, Alicent asks, breathing fast.

With her throat afflicted, Helaena shivers when listening to his name. Into a second, she remembers last night, when she cuddled with Daera in her bed. The brown-skinned princess answered her questions about the wounds in her arms and, by extension, she told her too about Aegon, and Dyana. Helaena wept so hard, when realizing what has happened to her sweet young maiden, in the hands of her husband...

Tense, she looks around the room, clearly knowing he was not around, thank the gods.

-Not here-, the princess shrugged, not knowing what else to tell them.

The Hand remembers last night, when he asked to his second grandson, Aemond, where his brother was, at what he answered "rotting himself more". In that moment, Otto didn't put to much attention to that answer, but now he wished he had.

-He's not in his rooms-, he speaks softly towards his granddaughter.

Helaena just blinks, and lowered her head to look at her embroidery, silently watching at the red spider. It made her shiver, again, the thought of her older brother.

Claudia stares at the Queen with cautiousness, knowing what is exactly going on in the castle. One must not questions the quickness of servants' whispers.

Helaena looks up again when hearing some steps. Her grandpa is leaving, which Alicent looked at with an alerted gaze.

-Father-, she quickly calls him, being ignored by Otto, who left. Her mother breathes fast, turning to look at her again.

-Aemond-, Jaehaera babbled right after the word "father" was spoken. Helaena opens her eyes big, turning to look at them.

-Aemond-, the male twin quickly babbled too.

Their grandma looks at them with her lips opened, not sure if she understood them well. Within a second, Claudia took the hands of the children.

-Come-, she whispered to the twins, helping them to stand. Alicent keeps looking at them, wondering if it's true that her first son spends so little time with his children, that they think their father is Aemond.

-What's happened?-. Helaena asks, at last, seeing how their children went out of the room.

Her mother, after sighing, walks towards the couch, and took seat at her side. When she did so, Helaena silently placed herself a little further, widening their distance. Alicent is being...weird, and she detests when that happens.

Blinkless, Helaena stares at the floor.

Alicent closes her lips, getting ready to tell her the news as she feels some tears coming up to her tired eyes. For a second, the redhead's mind went back to not too many nights ago, when she shared a more than wholesome moment with her daughter, her second son, and her grandchildren. That night, Helaena allowed her to sweetly touch her. And, for the love of The Mother, she so much wants that with her daughter right now.

-Your father...-, she begins to say, lowly.

-There is a beast beneath the boards-. Helaena interrupted her from a second to another, turning to look at her with fear on her eyes, blinking nervously with them.

Alicent watches her with extreme sadness, not understanding her, and opening her lips.

-Oh my dearest love-, she sadly cooes, approaching to her with an open arm.

But Alicent didn't turn out to be so lucky this time, for her daughter immediately flinched and pulled her arm away, not looking at her again. Helaena pressed her lips, knowing her mother did not listen, as she never does.

Before the rejectment, the Queen only closes her mouth, and looks down with shame, in silence. She scrunches her lips, not surprised, but sad. She didn't notice Helaena side-eyed her with some doubt, nervously touching the embroidery.

Then, footsteps approach to the room, making both women to turn their eyes towards there. Sorrowful, Alicent opens her lips, and Helaena opened hers, taking a deep breath in when she saw who entered to the chambers.

Aemond stopped walking, looking at them. His eye is wide opened, his lips are departed, and his heart is pounding fastly, staring at both women who turned to glance at him with different and yet similar emotions.

It didn't took long for the one-eyed to completely understand what is happening, to confirm his suspicions. It sinked in within a second, just by seing his mother's face.

In Helaena, he noticed she knows of what happened with Daera, and Alyssa. And, in Alicent, he noticed the plein truth in her eyes, one that will change everything, if it already hadn't.

Within a second, Aemond understood his life has taken a big turn.

Because The King is dead.

■ ■ ■

Let us turn our heads, and see towards near the ends of Blackwater Bay. Let us swim past Hull and Driftmark, and be welcomed by the waters of The Gullet. And so here we are, in the first seat of The Targaryens in Westeros.

Dragonstone.

Vermax, Moondancer and Syrax fly together above of the castle, soaring with their different colored wings as they enjoy of the breeze, and the freshness of the morning. And they are not the only ones.

-Can someome pass me the bread? I can't reach it-, Luke asks, gently.

-You're on your own-, Joffrey answered him with his mouth full of food. Lucerys tsked, and a brief snicker was heard from Daera.

Far away from the fuss and whispers of The Red Keep, The Heir to The Iron Throne and her whole family are breaking their fast in one of the many mountains of their island. Four guards are with them, though they keep a fair distance with the family, allowing them to eat at ease and in privacy, as they custom.

-Here you have-. Rhaena, as sweet as ever, hands the bread to her betrothed, who pressed his lips into a smile.

-Thank you-, he whispered, taking it.

-You are welcome-, she smiled to him, seeing him blushing.

-You are red-, Joffrey mumbled with taunt.

-Joff-, Rhaenyra sighs across the table. Now it was Baela who chuckled, while chewing her eggs.

In a neighbor hill, the dragons of the family rest near them. Arrax and Tyraxes are gladly eating the generous amount of sheep corpses Kalistrox and Caraxes brought clawed in their teeth, not too long ago. The Red Wyrm and The Golden Ray went out to hunt, early. And, after eating properly, they brought some breakfast to the young not-used-to-hunt dragons. The ones in the sky, Syrax, Vermax and Moondancer have already been fed by the dragonkeepers of the island.

Daemon, minutes ago, stood up from the table and walked down the mountain, assuring to be back after the excuse that "he'll bring something" with him. Meanwhile, Aegon and Viserys are in the castle, being attended by the dear midwives.

-Did we wake up too early, today, do you think?-. Rhaenyra asks curiously, clinking her fork against the plate while looking at her children-. Perhaps we...could have woken a bit later-, she shrugges.

-Nonsense, we are well rested-. Rhaena answered with a smile, and Luke agreed.

-We are not-. Jacaerys, sleepy, mumbled. And with him, Daera has her eyes closed, Joffrey is eating with slowness, and Baela is yawning with her mouth wide opened.

Rhaenyra curved her lips into a pity smile, looking at the tired ones.

-You are fine because you slept in your fancy ship-, Baela raises her brows towards Luke, Rhaena and their mother.

-It was a good night in our fancy ship-. Lucerys showed off, smiling, and her betrothed giggled, keeping to herself the fact that Luke puked around three times during the voyage.

Jace sighs, shaking his head, and chewing his meal. For a quick second, he eyed Daera, who is seated at his right, and remains with her eyes closed as she sips from her goblet.

-The flight back indeed was more exhausting than the one from here to there-, Joffrey confesses, though a smile shines on his face-. But I could do it a hundred times over!-, he grunts, high-spirited, bringing some chuckles to the table.

-Though you will not, little man-. His mother giggled with her characteristic sweet voice, raising her brows towards him-. Tyraxes is still a young dragon, not to mention you-. She points at him with her eyes, nodding.

-Come on-, the boy huffs, melting on his chair. His big sister, Daera, watches him in silence with a soft expression, moved by his spirits. Then she sipped again from her goblet.

-Anyways, those who wish to sleep, shall do it-. Nyra spoke, gaining curious looks from the children-. We had two very busy days, so it would not be a crime to take this one with more easiness-, The Heir raises her brows-. There are few duties for today-, she pointed.

-I have to study my High Valyrian!-, her older son remembered with a pride look, raising a finger.

-Who cares dude?-, Joff huffed, and he looked at him with boredom.

Rhaenyra chuckles, showing her teeth.

-And...! besides, Daera and I must be well rested for our trip back on the morrow-, she mentions, pressing her lips into a positive smile.

-Ah, right-. Baela sighed, remembering that.

-Cheers-. Eye-closed, Daera raised her cup towards her step-mother, who giggled and raised hers as well.

The Rogue Princess headed her goblet to her mouth, and drank from it with slowness. A strong wine is what she sips.

She barely slept, last night. During the flight home, on Kalistrox's back, she held back any crying or sorrow that wanted to leave her soul, for her siblings and father were fying near her, and she wouldn't have an explanation for them. After arriving to Dragonstone, kissing Kalistrox a couple of times, and having a quick talk with her family, the princess left to her rooms. In there, the walls of her chambers witnessed the brown-haired girl going insane into a deep hurted cry, hugged to her knees, in the bed, with the wounds of her arms hurting intensely.

Daera did nothing but weep and think, think and weep. Thank the gods the lack of sleep is excuse enough to justify the bags under her violet eyes, and her unusual silence. Truth be told, the princess is sad. Too much of a kind word for what she is truly feeling, perhaps, but it works.

As much as she ran around in her mind, she ran only in circles. More than anything, Daera just repeated, time after time, that meeting in Lovers Island, with Aemond. The worst of their meetings, the saddest of them, no doubt. The things he did, the things he said, the hate getting hold of him. It was...devastating to see, even more to feel. The princess's thoughts, too tired to really pay mind to it, have just reminded her of the facts, but haven't reflected on them.

Not everything is bad, at the least, for she always finds extreme comfort in her family. Of course they don't know a damn thing about any of what she's feeling or what she went through last night, but their mere presences and acompanies makes her heart to feel lighter. That's the reason why she prefered to come with them to their seat, even for a day, because she knew she'd feel easier in here. But a praise to Helaena, any ways, and her children, who never fail to make her feel better. However, Daera needed this day, to calmly take in what happened, and, to be deeply honest...to not see Aemond's face, not before she has her thoughts clear. She has the right of space. Angriness wouldn't have made anything better, were she to stay in The Red Keep.

This morning, indeed, she feels easier than last long night. Either ways, she is extremely tired, and her chest still aches, as well as the absence of the imaginary feeling of someone in her belly. She wants to know nothing of teas, perhaps why she is making company to her breakfast with wine. Well, there may be more than one reason to that.

Silently, Jace looks at his wife while he chews some good sausages the new girl, Dyana, cooked for them all. Daera is wearing long sleeves, covering the wounds only the siblings know about. He sees her sipping from her drink for some long seconds, not taking even one breath. He's not surprised by her drinking skills, for he is used to them.

The brown-haired prince is constantly wondering, in his mind, about her weird actitude of last night. First, she was all over him. May the gods forgive him, but he really thought he would deflower his manhood for the first time. But right the next second, after that strange shake the room felt, she just ran away, and left him alone, with no proper explanation. The young man wonders if he did something wrong.

-He's back!-, Joffrey yelled with a big smile, making everyone to turn around their heads.

When they look, they find prince Daemon already returning to them. He has a big cocky smile on his lips, a special shine on his crazy eyes, and a big leather bag on his hands, causing instant curious gazes from his family. Rhaenyra pressed her lips into a proud smile, already knowing what he brings with him.

-What's that?-. Baela asks, curious, while her older sister places her empty cup in the table, sighing.

-Hehehe-, Daemon snorts a cocky laugh, placing the bag in the table, adding a heavy weight to it. Rhaena raised her eyebrows, surprised, and shared a glance with Luke.

-Is that the new rain-coat I wanted?!-, an excited Joffrey stands from his seat, running towards his step-father's side.

-I do not believe rain-coats are that heavy, Joff-. Jacaerys laughed with easiness.

-Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?-. Joffrey hisses without even looking at him. His siblings around the table laughed while Jace stopped smiling, opening his hands with bemusement.

-You beast-, Daemon snorts chuckles, patting the boy's head, and he smiled up at him-. Nah, this is better-. He shrugged, starting to open the bag.

Automatically, everybody leaned front in their chairs, interested. Daera blinks with her head tilted, curious. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra chuckled lowly, and stood up from her chair, slowly heading towards Rhaena's.

Seconds then, both of Daemon's hands bring out something from the bag. Not some thing. Of silver scales, and blue reflects, a dragon-egg is what The Rogue Prince holds.

-Ha...-, he sighs, smiling. All of his children went mute, opening their eyes big, in shock.

-Oh my gods-. Luke whispers, shocked.

Rhaena opens her mouth hugely, feeling her eyes shining. Rhaenyra places herself behind her chair, smiling excited. Daera gags a laugh, and looked at her younger sister, as well as Baela did, mouth-opened.

-That is not a rain coat-. Jace whispers, and Joffrey faded away his surprised expression to look at him with cringe.

-Syrax's?-, Daera asks, bemused, staring at the silver-pale dragon egg.

-Ye'-, Daemon nods with pride, carefully placing it in the table. He side-eyes Rhaena for a second, looking at her shiny eyes. He chuckles, and then all the mouths fall again when another egg was taken out of the bag.

-Holy...!-, Joff gasps, jumping excited.

-Another one?-. Luke sighs, smiling, turning to look at his betrothed. Rhaena looks so beautiful, he thinks, blinking with hope and surprise, she is.

This one is brown, nearly as brown as one of the wild dragons from the island, Sheepstealer. Its color is pure, and almost alive, shining in the hands of The Rogue Prince.

Daera draws a smile on her face, an honest one, staring at the eggs with fascination, as well as the others are. The last egg all of them ever saw was many years ago, Tyraxes's. Until him, no egg had been layed. Until now.

-Hold your breath-, Daemon mumbles with taunt, looking again into the bag. And, indeed, they all held their breaths.

Rhaena breathed in deeply, afflicting her throat. She felt some warm hands placing on her shoulders, and she laughs, taking them both and hugging them to her chest, knowing they were Rhaenyra's. Her step-mother, behind her chair, giggles with excitement.

The youngest girl of the family slowly raised her brows, when she sees a third egg taken out of the bag. This one is of pink shiny scales, with a few of black glimming around its structure. It reflects the sun perfectly, blinding the Targaryen family with marvel.

-Gods...-, Rhaena whispers, shocked.

-A pink dragon!-. Baela muttered, smiling hugely.

-This is Aegon's-. Daemon places his hand above the silver egg. They immediately smiled, looking at each other-. Viserys's...-, he touches the brown one-, and...-. He grabs the pink egg, playing with it between his hands.

-Father, careful!-. Daera shrieks raising her brows.

-Catch!-. Burlesque, Daemon throws the egg, and it ended right in Rhaena's hands. The girl gasps, looking down at it with her mouth open-. There you have-, he mumbled, looking away with a smile.

The family does not wait a second to start cheering, more than excited. Rhaena laughs with no breath while her siblings clap and yell, happy for her and their baby brothers. Daera whistled and clashed her cup five times, shaking the table, having a smile on her face.

Rhaenyra cheered with laughs and clappings, seeing how speechless the girl is. The mother's heart of hers can not be happier for her, or for her lovely twin sons. Now she can't wait to see them all ruling the skies along their siblings.

Daemon closes a smile, looking down at the table, and playing with a fork.

-Father, may I hold Aegon's egg?-. Joffrey babbles, mesmerized, as he approaches to it, opening his arms towards the silver one in the table.

-Uh uh uh-, Daemon pulls back the neck of his shirt, and the boy tsked.

Rhaena sighs, caressing the egg with her thumbs, looking at it with the brightest shine on her eyes. She is surprised, thrilled, nervous, all at once! After all this years, and one unhatched egg, she has hope again, and a chance. A chance to be like the rest of them. Finally.

-I hope you don't wait until I die, and claim Caraxes instead, hehe-. Daemon mumbled under his breath, amused.

Rhaena started to fade her smile away, blinkless, instantly remembering the days she was waiting for claiming Vhagar, after her mom died. The other ones turned to look at him with big eyes, not believing that he really joked about that.

-What the fuck?-, Daera talks, bemused. Nyra gulps, caressing her belly.

-It was a jest, why do you say "what the fuck"?-. Daemon's sharp and desinterested voice talks back at her, as he shrugges, smiling. Luke breathes deeply, turning to look at Rhaena with worriness. She is blankly blinking, staring at her pink egg-. That one will hatch -, he assures, pointing at it.

-And what if it doesn't?-. Rhaena's answer took them by surprise. Baela sucks her lips, nervous, while their father turned to look at the youngest with his brows up, honestly confused-. What if it doesn't hatch, father?-. She asks, and her voice broke a little. Daera clenches her fists at the sides of her body, curving her brows-. Just as my previous one never did-, she pointed with shame.

-Well I shall hope that does not happen!-, her father answered with taunt and a sharp voice, opening his eyes big towards her. Rhaena sniffed her nose, afflicting her throat.

-Daemon-, Rhaenyra calls with cautioness.

-Father!-, Baela hisses.

Within a second, Rhaena stood up from her chair, with her lips tightly pressed and the egg hugged to her chest. The girl, ashamed and embarrased, turned around and began to walk away with long quick steps. Her siblings flinched, worried.

Daemon scoffs, turning around to seeing her leaving.

-You have no dragon and you complain! Now you have an egg and complain as well! Brilliant!-, he hisses through the distance, raising his thin brows. Luke clenched his teeth, looking at him with angriness.

-LEAVE ME AT PEACE!-. Rhaena suddenly roared, turning around to look at him. At the second of seeing her tears, her siblings stood up, more than worried. Daemon opens his lips, not having expected that-. I will never be a dragonrider, as your favourite daughters are!-. The girl let a sad thought of her to leave her mouth, yelling it with despair and shame.

-Rhaena-, Baela flinches, immediately leaving the table, being followed by a worried Luke.

-Wait!-, Joffrey shoots out running too.

Daemon remains with his lips opened, not having expected such fuss from the children. He looked at Rhaena's embarrased tears before she'd turn around and kept walking down the hill. The prince blinks, and then sees his older daughter and older step-son walking past him.

-Hells, father, hells!-. Daera grunted, side-eyeing him while running with Jace at her side.

-It was a joke!-, Daemon hisses with annoyment, tsking his tongue and not looking at them anymore.

-A mean one-. His wife reproached him with a serious look, crossing her hands over her belly. He sighs, looking at her.

-So what?-, he mumbles, shrugging-. Rhaena has to learn to endure hard things, being dragonless haven't helped her at all in that-. He raises his brows, shaking his head.

-She's our daughter, Daemon, she doesn't has to "endure hard things"!-. Rhaenyra yelled with obviousness, bemused, boping her head.

The Rogue Prince blinks, and then scratches his neck, letting out a sharp low laugh with no fun in it. Fuck, he just wants a dragon for all of his children. Is that a crime?

■ ■ ■

In The Red Keep, all servant, maiden and cook has been led to the dungeons, or at least those who know about the deceased King, to prevent them fron spreading the fact. A smart manevour, orquested by Lord Larys The Clubfoot.

Last night, King Viserys I of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, closed his eyes and went to sleep after his wife attended to him. He never woke. He was fifty-two years old, and had reigned over most of Westeros for twenty-six years.

The King is dead...and his succession about to be toyed with.

In the chambers of the now Dowager Queen Alicent, she is walking from side to another, in circles, from the windows to the doors, constantly scratching her nails with nerves and anxiety. She expects for nothing but to have her firstborn, Aegon, delivered to her presence already.

And, with her in the room, is her second son. Aemond is seated by the fireplace, not moving a single muscle, looking at the flames with a thoughtful eye and his right hand under his chin.

After he arrived to the chambers, and felt the heavy air on it, he adviced Helaena to be out of it, which she heartily agreed with, going to her children within a second. The princess knew something weird was happening, and she wanted to know the less possible of it. Her younger brother, on the other hand, closed the doors behind him, and did not wait a second to ask his mother what happened.

Lady Alicent told him everything, as sorrowful as a widow should be, and as nervous as a rooster sent to the guillotine.

-Your father...passed away in the night, Aemond-. She whispered to him with a thin voice.

The one-eyed did nothing but gulp. No tear came up to his gaze, nor his heart stopped beating with despair, waiting for more. It is like he didn't truly heard what she said, or he simply didn't care.

-He...-, Alicent gulped in that moment, holding his hands in hers as he watched her with his brows furrowed-...he told me he wished for Aegon to be King-. Her mother whispered, honesty shining n her teary eyes.

That news he did not expect it. At all. He felt all kinds of feelings, from surprise to fear, from jealousy to even a brief joy. No matter how much he felt, he was toothless, and couldn't even say a proper word in that moment, to shocked for it. When he breathed in, convinced that his mother was telling the truth, and that this is their reality now, he planned to finally speak. But, then, she let out another news, this one frightening, and scary.

-Your grandfather, The Hand, wishes to impress upon your brother that Rhaenyra must be put to the sword, in Dragonstone-. Alicent muttered with extreme anxiety, holding his arms tightly-, and the whole of her family as well, to prevent challenges on Aegon's succession-, she feared, gulping.

In that moment, Aemond nearly fainted, opening his eye big and holding even tighter to his mom's grasp. Neither his mind nor heart cared about his uncle, Daemon, or the children of the island. Much less he cared about his half-sister. Is Aegon king, or must we kiss the whore's cunny?, he would have thought to himself with taunt, if his soul didn't immediately feared for the life of his love, Daera.

Daera is Rhaenyra and Daemon's heir, along Jace, for they both would sit The Iron Throne after them, so they would doubtlessly be killed if Otto Hightower sent his guards to Dragonstone, to leave no possible challenger. The One-Eyed Prince nearly didn't hide his horror, and almost cried right in front of his mother when only listening to the possibility of his love being murdered, away from him and alone. But, for his sake, Alicent unconsciously calmed that fear in him.

-Aegon is to rule, and he won't do it by unsavory rules-, the Dowager Queen dictated as firm as she could, raising her brows while looking at her son's eye-. There is no one more cursed than the kinslayer-, she muttered with a religious fear, and then gulped-...We must find him first-. She stated.

Now, mother and son wait for the arriving of Aegon, who Ser Criston went looking for in the behalf of the prince's mom. Alicent keeps walking around, growing everytime more nervous amd impatient. Aemond, as quiet and silent he look in the fireplace, may bbe perhaps even more unquiet than ber.

In his head rules a hurricane stronger than the famous ones of Storm's End.

-What about Daeron?-. His husky voice suddenly asked, while his eye stayed fixated on the fire.

When hearing her youngest son be named, Alicent's heart tucked, and her belly ached a little. Oh, when her dearest boy hears about the decease of his father. As well as her other children, he may have not been to close with him, but he for sure was the kindest and joyest one towards him. A ray of sun, her boy.

-What about him?-, Alicent mumbles, playing with her nails.

-Isn't he to know about The King's death? Won't he be coming to the coronation?-. Aemond asks, blinkless, seeming like he isn't even listening to himself. To be honest, he just wants to distract his mind from the image of Daera being chopped in two by some kingsguard's sword.

-We cannot send ravens yet, no-. His mother answered, shaking her head as she walks-. Besides, the flight is too long, he wouldn't arrive in time-. Alicent says-. He...he may make it to your father's funeral, maybe-. She plans with nervous and thoughtful mumbles.

Aemond hums, blinking once. His mind, then, thinks about Rhaenys. Daera's grandmother is locked in her very chambers, in the castle. A part of him wants to smile, to be honest, for he doesn't pity her at all. But, again, she is his wife's grandmothers and, over that...she has an adult dragon, more than fitting to their side.

The prince was about to ask about princess Rhaenys as well, but the doors of the chambers are suddenly open, making his mother to nearly gasp before the sound.

She quickly turned around, while he kept staring at the fireplace, gripping his jaw for a second. It is Ser Criston who arrives, entering to the room and closing the doors after him.

-Prince Aegon's not to be found within the castle walls, Your Grace-. The knights talks with his usual neutrality-. Your father has sent Ser Erryk into the city to find him-, he informs, walking closer to her.

Alicent looked down, sighing. When hearing that, Aemond get his hand away from his chin, pressing his lips while staring into the fire.

-Ser Erryk knows Aegon, he has the advantage-. The Queen speaks with heaviness, and her eyes closed.

The prince turns his head, glancing at the knight. Ser Criston immediately looked back at him, with seriousness, clearly waiting something from his best pupil, and Aegon's brother. Reading that gaze, Aemond blinks and simply stares front again, thoughtful.

Alicent breathed in with deepness, opening her eyes as she approaches to her Sworn Protector.

-I trust again to you, Ser Criston, and to your loyalty...-. She starts talking to him, raising her brows-. Aegon must be found, and he must be brought to me-. She commands, with the worriness of both a Queen and a mother-. The very fate of the Seven Kingdoms depends on it-, Alicent declares.

Aemond blinks slowly, looking at the fire. His mother mumbled something else to Criston, but he did not listen, sinked in his mind. He doesn't fear Ser Erryk's work as much as his mother does, for he has seen how easy is for him to lose his brother of sight. The Cargyll knight has no advantage. He does, he who has gone to the city with Aegon himself.

He can not stay in here, he will not, seated in the fireplace while his grandfather plans to kill his wife, and his brother is somewhere in Flea Bottom, as irresponsible as always, most probably drunk.

If someone is to find Aegon for his mother, for The Kingdoms, and for his own sake, is he himself. This is his chance, to everything.

-I'll come with you-. Aemond decides with a soft tone, calmly staring at the fire, remembering for a second the boiling Moon Tea of last night.

-Aemond!-, Daera's broken voice calls his name in the middle of her sips. He ignored it.

The worried voice of his mother came out immediately.

-That would not be my desire, Aemond-. Alicent denied while she quickly walked to him, shaking her head.

Hearing her steps coming closer, Aemond firmly stands up from his chair, humming from deep his throat. He calmly turns around to find his mother approaching with her lips parted.

-If anything has happened...-, she fears, softly grabbing her son's arms. He stood in front of her, raising his right hand to hold her elbow, giving it a tender grip.

-Cole needs me, mother-. He stated with no doubt, opening his eye big-. Ser Erryk isn't the only one who knows Aegon's doings-, the prince sofly says to his mom, keeping a calm face while talking to her.

Alicent leaves her lips open, blinking with doubt, turning to look at the knight, who nodded at her in silence. Aemond keeps staring at his mother for a few more seconds, reading her beautiful worried face, but knowing that there is no need for it, for he knows what he's doing. She'll see.

Aferwards, The One-Eyed Prince gives a last grip to his mom's elbow, and then he turns around, walking out of the room while his mane bounces in his back with every step he takes. He was followed by Ser Criston, who took a last glance to The Queen before walking behind her son.

Aemond struts with firmness and a serious face, nodding to himself. He'll find Aegon, save Daera's life, and protect his family.

■ ■ ■

The Sworn Protector of the Dowager Queen Alicent took off his armour and white cloak, changing them for some peasant stinking clothes. The One-Eyed Prince followed the same path, wearing something more discreet, and hiding his silver mane under a grey hood.

Both man still carry their swords with them, matters to point.

The prince, after a silent ponder in his rooms, took off his black leather eyepatch, and instead put on the fur one, the one he used to wear before his wife, Daera, would gift him the other one in their wedding night. This is the first time he changes it since. He did it because some sort of...sentimentalism, and respect.

Aemond understands what he is about to do. He'll look for Aegon, to install him as King and Protector of the Realm. This goes against all of Daera's politic and moral believings, he knows, and it may be even personal...for the succession of Aegon will mean that she no longer will inherit the throne with Jacaerys.

But, gods, it is too complicated to think of now. He changed the eyepatch, done. He has a job to do. And he has to do it quick.

The bells toil, the dogs bark, and the people talk around all of Flea Bottom. The town, as we so much know it, is a narrow dirty place full of alleys, beggars, whores, and whatnot.

And here is that Aemond has lead himself and Ser Criston, for he knows how much his older brother enjoys the dirtiness, obscenity and the lewdness of this city. He came down to it with him, barely two days ago, when they went to the beach for The Festival of Visenya.

The one-eyed sees the beach as a potential place to find Aegon but, however, he has decided to try with a nearer place instead. That is why he pointed Ser Criston towards this lustful and full-of-whores place. You know where this is.

-Aemond brought me to the Street of Silk on my thirteenth name day-. Aemond's voice goes narrating, walking through narrow opaque street-. It was his duty as my brother, he said, to ensure I was as "educated as he was"-, he says with a hoarse tone, remembering that day.

He could not believe himself when he also remembered the day he told that story to Daera. He recalls it perfectly. Two years ago, the first time they made love in the castle, still on her visit on Helaena's wedding week.

-You were abused-, Daera whispered thinly, looking at him with sad violet eyes.

He hadn't remember that moment ages ago, until now. The prince misses her.

But this are times of actions, not of remember. So, after gulping strongly, he opened his lips and grabbed the handle of a door, giving a slow blink when thinking back to that day with Aegon.

-At least that's what...-, he blinks again-...I understood him to mean-. Aemond adds, nearly siding a smirk, and then he knocked the door three times.

Ser Criston, who has kept silence, looks at him with a listening expression, soon raising his brows while looking at the door.

-I don't follow-, he confesses, speaking lowly. The prince nearly rolls his eyes, boping his head.

-He said "Time to get it wet"-. Aemond quotes Aegon with a burlesque tone, leaning front to the knight.

Criston's face immediately scrunched with disgust as he looked away from him.

-Every woman is an image of The Mother-. Cole points with seriousness, straightening his shoulders and taking a glance around-, to be spoken of with reverence-. He dictates, taking the handle, and knocking again three more times.

Aemond only looks down, sucking one of his cheeks. His mind went back, again, to that day two years ago, when he told Daera the tale. He can't believe he is back in this place, where he was so much humilliated.

Not the knight nor the prince were aware that Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk walked in a street close to theirs. The Cargyll twins also go without their white cloaks, dressed as commonfolks as they go around in the search of prince Aegon, only that by orders of The Hand, not The Queen.

Ser Erryk has a strange feeling in his heart, knowing that he is looking for his prince for a great purpose. He'll be make King of The Seven Kingdoms. Aegon. The one he has been the sworn protector of for years and years. He knows him. And that's why this scares him.

In the Street of Silk, the door of the brothel is finally opened, and in that moment, Aemond felt a bucket of cold water falling over him when he sees the woman who came from inside. The one who deflowered him, on his 13th name day. The one who Aegon payed to for her to do so. The one who faked her orgasm. Oh, fucks... Her name is Leby, he remembers.

The prince instantly looks down, while Ser Criston gifted the woman a small smile.

-Good morrow, good friend-. The knight greets.

The woman, blue-eyed, brown-haired, and much older than the both of them, rests an elbow in the door, and a hand on her wrist, furrowing a curious smirk into her lips, looking at them.

-And what is that you two would like, at this young hours?-. She asks with a playful honeyed voice, eyeing the brown-haired. Aemond gulps, looking at his shoes.

-Nothing but an answer, if perhaps you may help us-. Ser Criston answered, crossing his hands on his abdomen. Leby blinks, keeping that smirk.

-The question-. She asks for, moving a hand in the air. Cole eyes Aemond, who quickly glanced at him, slowly looking up again.

-Sometime last night, we...misplaced our drinking companion-. Criston speaks to her, making up a story within a second-. Knowing that he has been, in the past, a patron of your fine establishment, we thought to inquire here as to his whereabouts-, he questions, tilting his head.

Cole, actually, had no idea of this brothel before. Aemond just suddenly stopped walking here and knocked the door, and he trusted his prince. It was not hard, then, to make the story.

Leby stays with her lips open, wondering why he had to use so much words just to ask such a simple question.

-And describe him-, she asks with obviousness, opening a hand.

The brown-haired clenches his jaw for a second. The hooded one stares at the woman with a blinkless eyes, remembering what she did to him that day. He is ashamed to confess he did not faked his orgasm, as she totally did.

-That is a delicate matter-, Criston talks between his teeth, and then he leans front towards her. Aemond immediately presses his lips and rolls his eye, looking away-. You see, the man we seek is the young Prince Aegon-. He confesses into a soft whisper. Leby blinked in that moment, turning to look at him with her lips parted, listening closely, and now understanding why he speaks to sophisticatedly-. I may trust, I hope, in the discretion of your trade-, he mutters.

The woman chuckled in that moment, confusing both man.

-The Prince is not here-, she answered, way too confident. Aemond furrows his brows, and clenches his teeth, wondering if she is lying of if Aegon truly is not at the place. Where does he gets his whores, then?

-Has he been here?-. Criston questions, stepping back, and talking normally again-. Earlier, perhaps?-. He shrugged.

-Quite a bit earlier-, Leby answered, almost burlesque-. Years ago, in fact-. She adds, turning her blue gaze towards the hooded man.

It is not uncommon to see maimed people walking around Flea Bottom. Street fights are an usual thing, and people are always losing arms, tongues, or eyes. But now she knows this is not some one-eyed of the town. No no, of course, if they are looking for prince Aegon, then this is obviously prince Aemond, his maimed brother. She remembers him, his bone structure and his pointy jaw. He had a capable cock for his age, she recalls, but null knowledge on how to use it.

When her eyes fell on him, Aemond looked down, licking his lips and then making a nervous pout with them, avoiding her gaze.

-But more recently?-, Criston asks, oblivious of the meaning of this woman to the prince.

-He does not frequent the Street of Silk-. She clarified, looking back at him.

When she looked away, Aemond's eye slowly came up again, traveling on her body from toe to head, recalling the things he felt that day with her, when he was still a child. She is so older...and yet he still enjoyed her. Was something wrong with him?

-His tastes are known to be...less discriminating-. Leby pointed, giving a slow blink. Aemond wonders what is that supposed to mean.

-Meaning what?-, Criston asks as well.

But she just tsks her lips, widening her smirk.

-I wish you luck, good Ser-. Leby smirks at him, looking at his eyes-. And my best to your friend-, she tauntly says, pointing at Aemond without even glancing at him for a second.

Until she suddenly did, turning her head at him. Aemond, with his eye big open, bow his head slowly, not looking at her. He felt helpless, unable to say a word.

Serious, Ser Criston only turns around, walking away from the stablishment. Aemond stood his ground, and Leby finally had the chance to eye him from head to toe, calmly smirking, and looking into his eye.

-How you've grown...-, she mumbled, tauntly, and coquettishly. Leby won't lie to herself. The prince is already a man, and she's sure she wouldn't have to fake an orgasm if she were to fuck with him again.

Aemond stares straight at her, with no more hiding, narrowing his eye. He felt his bones chilling and, to himself, he thought how his wife would definitely have this woman burned alive if she saw her mock towards him.

Perhaps it makes no sense to think about Daera in this moment, but the single mention of her name in his mind can bring him some peace, before the shame and discomfort this woman has over him.

The One-Eyed Prince stares at her, nearly beginning to smirk.

-Hmm-, he hums, stepping back, and quickly turning around after giving her a last glance at her.

Leby stays in the door, closing her mouth after being about to ask him to stay, but he left too fast.

Aemond goes away from that brothel, walking with his gaze down as his lips pressed. He chews on them, looking at the floor while he walks. Shame and embarrassment take hold of him, recalling again, the day he was abused. That is what that was.

And here he is. Looking for the one who led him to that, who paid for that. Looking for him, to put a crown on his head.

■ ■ ■

What is a king, with no crown? What is a conqueror, with no land to conquer? What is a god, with no believers? What is a Targaryen...with no dragon?

Rhaena has had a rough path. Baela's dragon was born to her, and Daera's bravery made her claim an ancient beast. The youngest girl, to her father's disappointment, was owner of nothing but a unhatched dragon-egg.

But, as the gods have blessed her this morning, now she holds a pink dragon egg into her soft brown hands. However, besides her excitement, and hope, she is sinked in fear, and nerves. She doesn't want to keep being The Rogue Prince's disappointment. She just...can't take it.

Since she has use of memory, one of her main goal, if not the mainest, has been to be her father's pride. And what has she gained him? A failed hatchling. His daughter, rogueless, scared of claiming a dragon.

-This one will hatch, Rhaena...-. A soft whisper came from Luke's pink lips.

The girl sighs through her nose, closing her eyes as she caresses the egg with her thumbs.

She is, at the moment, in her rooms. And with her, her siblings. She is seated in the edge of the bed, Luke at her left, Jace at her right, Baela seated in a chair in front of the bed, with Daera and Joffrey standing besides her. All of them have been comforting her since they left the breakfast table.

-You know you don't have to listen to father, sometimes he is full of shit-. Daera insisted with her brows up, having her arms crossed over her chest.

-Exactly-, Jace agreed into a thin whisper, caressing his younger sister's back.

-Mother always used to tell us how you were going to be an awesome dragonrider, do you not remember?-. Baela smiles proudly, raising her brows. Inevitably, Rhaena smiled at the single mention of their mom. And, having a reaction as well, Daera huffed a sad laugh, briefly touching her belly.

-And you will be!-, Joffrey nods with full confidence, jumping on his place. All of his siblings laugh, looking at him-. You'll be riding your dragon before Luke ever makes a good joke!-, he promises.

-Yeah-, Lucerys agrees while the others chuckle, then he blinks-. Wait!-, he furrowed his brows.

-I said what I said-, Joff shrugged.

Rhaena sighs, opening her eyes to stare at the pink egg. It is so majestic, beautiful and matchless. Who has ever seen a pink dragon?

-When you least expect it, you'll be ruling the skies with all of us, in your dragon-. Jacaerys promised with all of his heart, smiling at her. And when Rhaena pictured that, her eyes shined, and she smiled back at him, almost with surprised, in love with the idea.

-All of us-, the girl dreams.

-...Together-. Jace nods, proudly. Daera sides a thoughtful smirk, staring at him with a soft dearness. He is an awesome older brother.

-Hey!-. Luke holds one of Rhaena's hands, and she turned to look at him with shiny eyes, not sad anymore-. Would like to go pet Arrax?-, he proposes, smiling.

-Yes, of course!-. She immediately answered, raising her brows with excitement. Her betrothed chuckles, doing the same.

-Here-. Giggling, Baela stands up from her chair, taking Rhaena's eggs off her lap, holding it carefully-. You go with Arrax, then-. She smiles at them.

-Yes!-. Joffrey claps as Luke and her betrothed stood up from the bed, holding hands, and walking towards the doors while giggling.

-Have fun-, Daera mumbles funnily while watching them go. Jaces eyes her for a second.

-Rhaena, Rhaena, Rhaena!-. Joff begins to cheer with jumps and claps, repeating her name time after time. That made them to chuckle with confussion-. Rhaena, Rhaena, Rhaena!-, he keeps yelling.

-What?-. Laughing, Rhaena peeks her head through the door, for Lucerys and her walked back when hearing him.

-Rhaenaaa!-, Joffrey chuckles, so tenderly. Baela curves her brows, smiling.

-Are you going to waste our sister's name, little tamer?-. Daera asks funnily, walking to him to caress his brown mane. Rhaena laughs, tilting her head.

-No!-, the boy laughs, looking up at her with dearness. The way he looks at his sisters is the loveliest-. I learned to scream someone's name when you are excited for them-. He shows off, confident.

His siblings laugh, glancing at each other between them.

-And where did you learn that, Joff?-. Lucerys questions with a funny smile.

-Yesterday in the afternoon, after Lady Beesbury gave me cake!-. The boy smiles-. When I heard Jace screaming Daera's name with no stop when they were in her chambers-, he remembers, casually. In that moment, everybody froze-. He sounded very happy-, Joffrey adds. The siblings gasp, airless, shocked-. Too happy, actually, WAY too hap-

-Enough, Joff!-. Jacaerys flinched, almost falling off the bed, as red as a tomato.

Luke and Rhaena blink in shock, while Baela is speechless, looking at both Jace and Daera. He is nearly hyperventilating, and she quickly corrected the boy.

-No no no, we were doing bad things, don't go around saying that, okay?!-. Daera bends her body to raise her brows towards Joffrey, who simply smiled at her.

-Oh my gods-, Rhaena whispered, slowly turning around.

-Did they...?-, Luke whispers, turning too.

-Oh my gods-, she says the same, leaving the room with him.

-What bad things?-, Joff innocently asks. Jace covers his mouth, his cheeks all red, sharing a quick glance with Baela, who looked at him with a doubty expression, gulping.

-Adult things-. Daera clarified, blinkless.

-Works for me-. Joffrey shrugged with a smile.

-Uhhh, why don't we go to read something, Joff?-. Baela approaches to him with a nervous smile, offering him a hand. Daera sighs, stressed, scratching her forehead.

-Why?-, the boy asks.

-Good dragonriders always read-, Baela quickly answered, raising her brows.

-Ha, works for me too!-. Joffrey walks excitedly to her, holding her hand and beginning to walk with her.

Baela gulps, glancing at them for a second, finding their ashamed looks. She just laughed, shocked, and walked out of the room with the boy, leaving them alone, at Rhaena's chambers.

Jace presses his lips, giving a slow blink, and then turning to look at his wife. He finds her already staring at him, tired, arms crossed.

The prince gulps, wondering if this is the right time to ask her about last night's events. The princess, on the other hand, gulped when she noticed he was about to do so.

-Daera, I want to ask you something...-he speaks lowly.

-Well it cannot be now, I'm afraid-. She immediately smiles, making him to furrow his brows-. You must go to your High Valyrian lessons, mustn't you?-. The princess asks, tilting her head.

-Yes, indeed, I shall go to them-. Jacaerys sighs, slowly standing up from the bed. She crosses her arms tighter, looking at him-. But, first...-, he starts to whisper.

-Besides, I am too tired-. Daera interrupted him along a sigh, shaking her head. He opens his lips, bemused-. I think I'll go to sleep again, for a while, alright?-. She smiles with weakness, heading to the door without even waiting for an answer-. Alright? Alright-, she mumbled, walking out of the room-. Good luck with the lessons!-, her voice echoed in the hallway.

-Daera!-, he tries to insist.

-Good luck, Jace!-. She stressed, and then she closed her eyes, exhausted, covering her face while walking.

Jacaerys stays by himself in the chambers. Nervously, he clenches his fists and blinks slowly, noticing that Daera is obviously ignoring him, or well, ignoring the subject.

He is truly starting to fear he may be the problem. Jace is almost absolutely sure that he did something wrong last night. It must have been that! Because what else would be keeping Daera so...not-Daera-like?

■ ■ ■

-It seems you were mistaken as to Aegon's habits-, Ser Criston talks with some heaviness, looking around.

He and the prince walk through another street, the tenth they have walked through perhaps, finding no one with a silver mane. Aemond pressed his lips, a little unfazed.

-He could be in the hands of mercenaries, on a ship to Yi Ti...-, the prince starts to point possibilities, not letting himself to be perceived as useless-. He could be dead-, he added, heartlessly.

-Let us hope, for your mother's sake, that is not the case-. Criston answered with his tone of respect, glancing into one of the million alleys of Flea Bottom.

Aemond keeps walking in silence, thinking. To be honest, he is starting to grow nervous, big time. How do they know his grandfather hasn't found Aegon already? How do they know a ship hasn't already sailed from Blackwater Bay to The Gullet and beyond, to arrive at Dragonstone's shores, and kill his Daera Targaryen, and the extras? How do they know Aegon is even alive, or well? Fuck! How would Aegon care of one single thing in his life?

It is not Aemond's fault that is brother is a scoundrel, a drunken and a cheater. And yet here he is, walking around the ugliness of Flea Bottom, desperately find him to finally out an end to his mother's worries, to finally secure his family by putting him in that iron chair, to finally ease his heart and nerves on the abouts of the safeness of his wife. All depends of Aegon. Everybody is looking for him, pleading for him to appeaer. This is the first time so many people want to see him.

And that is when it hits him. All this fuss for Aegon, this loss of time and extreme uncertainty. All that Aegon ever brings is glum and disappointment. It would be idiotoc to pray for this time to be the exception. It is idiotic, to put these high expectations on him. He, Aemond, is the one they should be looking for.

What has he done, but to prove himself worthy, capable and smart? Were it him the one in Aegon's place, there would be no more dithering, no more search parties. As soon as Viserys The Peaceful would have breathed his last breath, Aemond Targaryen would have took his crown, and placed it over his head without even blinking. He would have sent terms to Dragonstone, true terms, such that Daera and her lot would take no shame in accept. And Daera...

Prince Aemond's eye shined from a moment to another, when he and Ser Criston turned in a corner, and an alley from the distance catched his eye. An ugly one, just as the others. But that one...that one is where his love story with The Rogue Princess ignited, as the warmest of fires. He hadn't seen it since that night...until this day. Two years later. His breath abandoned him, as he took this as nothing less than a sign of The Seven.

Were he Lord of The Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, his word would be law. He would order a Valyrian steel sword to be made for him, and he'd call it Justice. He would enssure peace, and prosperity. All that, with a more than fitting Queen seated on his knees, in The Iron Throne. Daera Targaryen. He would take her as wife, immediately, and no one would be able to do something about it? She's married to the Heir to The Iron Throne, Jacaerys? No longer, for he'll be heir of nothing but the memory of a lie. Daera would marry the man sitting The iron Throne, him, after he had a septon to undo her union with the bastard.

He would wed her, again, this time under the eyes of The Seven. The wholeness of the Seven Kingdoms watching them, their dragons flying above their heads. Dowager Queen Alicent, his mother, would crown her as Queen of The Seven Kingdoms. She would give her a chance, place four kisses in her cheeks, and call her "daughter", after exchanging declarations of love. And they, she and him, could have children, dozens of them...and they wouldn't have to fear for them, nor hide them.

But why is he dreaming for, if he's still searching for Aegon?

Aemond clenches his fists at the sides of his body, clenching his jaw as well when his older brother, the to-be King, comes back to his mind. No, no, no. He glances at Ser Criston, seeing how silently he walks. He wonders if his trainer since childhood is also doubting of Aegon as their right choosing of king.

Only a way to find out.

-Here I am, trawling the city, ever the good soldier, in search of a wastrel who's never taken half an interest in his birthright-, Aemond speaks with a sharp and nearly annoyed tone, cold.

That made Ser Criston to stop, turning around with a curious and confused gaze. Wasn't Aemond the one who insisted, in the first place, to come looking for his brother? When he looks at him, he finds that the prince also halted his walking, standing firmly in front of him.

Aemond gulps, eyeing the door of that stall where Daera, Helaena and the others danced with their masks on, a long time ago, drinking and balling with no stop. His wife's laugh echoed in his mind, making his fists to clench tighter under his coat.

-'Tis I the younger brother who studies history and philosophy, it is I who trains with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world, it is I who should be--...-, the prince cut his own words, pressing his lips and then licking them, only to press them again, after having spoken fastly.

As soon as Aemond interrupted himself, he looked towards the alley, seeing it right besides the stall. Meanwhile, Criston sighs through his nose, approaching to him, causing him to look again.

-I know what it is to toil for what others are freely given-, the knight comforts him, crossing his arms behind his back.

-Hmm-, Aemond makes a quick face, lifting a side of his lips and then looking away again, finding no comfort in his words. One more time, he fixates his eye on that alley, staring endlessly at it-...And we can't find him, Cole-. He points, serious.

Criston blinks, and then turns his head around with his brows curved, wondering about what was the prince was looking so much at. He only found a dirty dark alley.

-We are decent men, with no taste for depravity-. Aemond states, speaking firnly, feeling his heart beating with wildness-. His secrets are his own...and he's welcomed to them-, he softly adds, clearly not caring about finding his brother, at least not today, not for this.

Aemond breathes in and quickly approaches closer to his mentor.

-I'm next in line to the throne-. The One-Eyed Prince states with a husky whisper filled of confidence. His gaze, nailed in that alley-. Should they come looking for me...I intend to be found-. He lets the riddles behind, and speaks with the plein truth, turning to look at him.

Cole remains with a thoughtful gaze, with his brows lightly furrowed. Aemond expects an answer from him, some reaction, but his face is always a serious one, and it barely changed even after his words.

Criston looks at him, with his lips pressed.

-Finding him is your mother's order, I recall to you, my prince-. Ser Cole stays as loyal as always to his Queen. Aemond furrows his mouth, instantly looking away, losing hope of his support-. And your passed father's, The King, wish...-, he added.

Aemond gulps, beginning to silently nod. He licks the insides of his mouth, and then keeps walking, as if nothing had happened. Criston sighs, closing his eyes for a second, and then he followed him, quickly reaching his side.

Knight and prince keep walking, silent, not exchanging a word anymore, both of them leaving the other in their own minds as they look around at all times, looking for the wastrel.

Aemond tries to keep his head clear, away from any deep thought or whatsoever, but with all this going on, is nearly -if not totally- impossible. So he keeps thinking. Aegon, Daera, Jace, Alicent, Alyssa, Luke, the crown of Jaehaerys. Too many names to think of. This one's on top, then that one's on top, and on and on it goes...nearly crushing this man's firm demeanor, and making to fight against some tears that reached is eye.

He quickly blinked them away, knowing this is not the moment.

Aemond gets out of his head, looking around as he chews his own tongue, entertaining himself with that. He goes behind Ser Criston, who is as attentive to the surroundings as he is.

The prince watches the countless hands of beggars that raise to him in the search of aid. Aemond doesn't cares enough to look to their faces, and just walk past them with disinterest, wondering how these people have no shame to do this. It is embarrasing.

From a moment to another, Criston stopped, which made Aemond to stop as well.

-My prince...-, the knight calls, and the purple-eyed follows his gaze, curious.

Not too far from them, they ran into one of the community kitchens that the princesses Daera and Helaena had set up throughout Flea Bottom. People eat in there with hunger and desire, but a handful of people in special was what took their whole attention.

No one less than the The Hand of The King and The Cargyll Twins are seated in one of the tables, apparently meeting with some white-dressed woman of brown hair.

Aemond blinks, and Criston smirks lightly, staring at them from a safe distance.

-Now we wait...-, the one-eyed whispered.

■ ■ ■

The day keeps advancing in Dragonstone and, as The Realm's Delight promised, it has been quiet and calm, specially after that little discussion at breakfast. Thereafter, everybody kind of attended to their own matters.

Prince Daemon had gone out to fly with his loyal dragon, Caraxes, up in the skies where he is alone with his very own private thoughts. As the wind caresses his mane, The Rogue Prince thinks about his brother, The King, and his deplorable health. Viserys doesn't has long, he confesses to himself, making his heart to beat with discomfort. "Should Viserys die, we shall be ready", his warrior side tells him.

Princess Rhaenyra has busied herself with getting her luggage ready for tomorrow. As we know, she promised to Queen Alicent -better said, her old childhood companion- to return on dragonback to King's Landing, something Alicent and The King himself will be very happy of. So, with nervous but also hopeful feelings beating in her chest, The Heir gets her baggage ready to spend some days in the capital. At the same time, she's also attending to her twin sons, having Viserys and Aegon as the sweetest company.

Princess Baela has joined her siblings, princess Rhaena and prince Luke, in one of the mountains of Dragonstone. In there, they are sharing a lovely time with their dragons as they eat lemon cake. Rhaena admires the bond of her siblings with their dragons. Arrax is almost always following Luke's steps, going behind him with curious growls as he, oblivious to it, tell tales about their childhood while he eats. Moondancer has her pale green tail coiled in Baela's waist, for she is resting in the grass with her, calmly eating with her eyes closed. Rhaena, having her pink egg again in her arms, rocks it as if it was a child, dreaming about having that kind of bond with her dragon.

Prince Jacaerys remains in The Chamber of The Painted Table, endlessly studying with Maester Gerardys while prince Joffrey, the younger brown-haired prince, fell asleep besides the fireplace, after reading, and now is tucked in some fur bedsheets Joveth fetched for him. Jace finds distraction in reading history and practicing High Valyrian, getting his mind away from thoughts about his future kingship, and about his wife, the princess Daera.

The princess Daera, alas, has found no distraction from the thoughts of her mind.

At the moment, she is at her chambers, all alone. Her fully naked body is into the golden tub of her washroom, bathing in warm perfumed waters. Her wet countless curls fall in her back until getting lost in the water, her back is slouched, and the moles in it covered by her hair. Her breasts are pressed against her legs, for she is all hugged to her knees, hidden in there.

The rooms would be silent, if not for the girl's sorrowful weeping. Daera sobs in whine with a broken heart, bathing in her own tears, which mix with the hot water of the tub, turning it salty. The princess, at least, has found a place to cry freely since she was in Helaena's arms, last night. Whilst her family is busy with their own things, she excused herself too, to "take a bath". She's doing more than that, surely.

As the day has passed, her feelings have too. Much and more beats in the princess's chest, but one thing is sure, angriness is no longer her main feeling. Lovers Island's past night left her outraged, mad, and impotent. Now, soaked in her own tears, she is, more than all, sincerely sad, and confused.

Daera's doleful heart has started to ponder the question that always come to her mind when needed to. The matter of the...the two sides. The famous two sides of the same story she always try to think of. And now she is.

The princess knows what what was done to her and how she felt regarding that. Her dream of being mother of the child from the man she loves was crushed, by this very own man. She felt betrayed, misunderstood, and alone. But, one second, how must had he felt?

Is it truly deserving the appellation of "cruel", what Aemond did to her? Surely he was not kind, much less willing to listen to her, but it may be because he has his own reasons. And now, in the quietness of her tub, and in the middle of her sad sobbings, Daera may be starting to see that.

Could it be, that perhaps she -actually- was the cruel one? Caring only about her part, and her own desires?

Aemond's wife knows much and more about the difficulties he has had in life, most of them by the hands of her own family. She knows his resentment towards Luke, his hatred towards Jace, his problem with the bastards in general. Blatantly, she literally asked him to magically forget all that, and have a child with her, just because she wanted to. FUCK! Is that what really happened?!

Daera whines with distress, burying her nails in her scalp and strongly closing her eyes, allowing more tears to fall.

Perhaps she was the reckless one, then... Fuck, but- either ways, why did he have to say those things he "would like to do" to her brothers? How was he capable of speaking with so much poison and malice? She nearly saw blood coming out from his tongue and teeth, the blood of her siblings, the one it appears he so much would like to drain off them.

Ow but, come one, perhaps he just was too blinded by his despair, and by not being listened by her. Did he say all of that because of desperation? "Most likely", Daera answers herself. He doesn't has the heart to crash my Jace's skull, or to take out my Luke's eye, the princess is convinced of. She knows Aemond...

And she knows tha acts of last night hurted him as much as it hurted her. It is a truth. Perhaps we were both wrong, the princess thinks while weeping salt, by thinking we both were right. Perhaps...

Daera tsks her tongue and her throat trembles when she began to cry harder, almost sinking her shaky lips into the tub.

Hells, how many times has she thought of the word "perhaps, perhaps, perhaps"? This is too much, its...its too heavy. If she keeps talking alone in her mind she'll go insane.

As hurt as she may be, she doesn't doubt about one thing: she needs to listen to another voice, and it's perspective. Aemond's.

■ ■ ■

The High Sept is a sacred place, in Flea Bottom, and perhaps it's safest, for not even the meanest man dares to mess with The Faith of The Seven's house and its residents. If they do, they are harshly dealed with by the crown.

The White Worm, that mysterious woman who seems to know everything about everyone in King's Landing, has sent the servants of The Hand, the Cargyll twins, to look for the so lost young Prince Aegon, for she assured she safely tucked him away in here.

And, not having another option than to believe her, here the knights have come, entering to the temple with silent steps, and serious eyes, looking around.

Ser Erryk walks in front of his brother, looking at the seven huge statues that surround the hall, and at the round table in the middle of it, where a thousands of candles are burning and melting.

As a sacred silence surrounds them, Erryk is only listening to his thoughts. The uneasiness on his chest is still here, more pounding than ever now that he has the gut that his prince is about to be found. This is not sitting him well. He knows this is not well. Something must be done.

Aegon's sworn protector has been having nightmares, more constantly than usual, since the early morning where that young handmaiden, Dyana, walked to him with a teared apart dress and endless tears of despair and fear in her red face, telling him what the prince did to her, pleading for succor. And...and princess Daera was right. He did not help her. Instead, he walked to the Queen, and protected the prince's ugly doing, besides a thousand more of them.

The look that the princess's eyes gave him last night was one of full disappointment, and mistrust, contrary to the one she gave him the night before, a hopeful and happy one when he let her sneak out of The Red Keep. She didn't expect him to be this accomplice to her cousin's crimes. Honestly, he didn't either. But what else was he supposed to do, if he's sworn to him?

Now, however, his oath is walking away from his heart, step by step, as they more walk into The High Sept. To tolerate the felonies of a prince is one thing, but a King's...impossible for his heart to take. If a crown is placed on that boy's head, the realm will be doomed, and so will his own honor, which has already started to fickle, since he began to be the prince's guard.

Now, as to Aegon's whereabouts...Let us see what he has been up to. Not much, to be honest.

The prince thought he would have a decent night. Hells, even a funny one after he and his brother mocked the bastards in the dinner. That was fun. However, all that changed when his older cousin stormed into his rooms with letal eyes, and heartless accusations towards him. He wasn't expecting that at all. Her cruel yelling, their sudden fighting, their sharp wounds and their heavy blood.

His evening was ruined, and his soul shattered. He didn't want to think of that girl again, the handmaiden, and neither of Daera. Neither of them understand him, neither of them really saw that he is...- Anyways, Aegon's mind would have ate him alive if he didn't do something about his feelings. So, doubtlessly, he did.

He sneaked out to fuck and drink.

Aegon wandered around the whole city with a big smile on his face, a bottle in his hand, and a different whore for every street he walked through. Burning ale always ease his soul, and a woman's lips around his cock and another's tongue on his ass always help even more with that. His drunkness as wrll helped him with the itching pain of the wounds in his arms, which bled almost all night long, but he wasn't aware of that. Or was he? Ugh, he doesn't remembers, nor cares.

The prince found comfort on the different places he frequents, most of them not worthy to mention, for now, for we aren't seeking for a motive to grow sick. After his brutal quarrel with Daera and his pathetic crying afterwards, he immediately ran to the city, to hide, just as he hided the day his twin children were born, too scared to face his new reality as a father.

One can only imagine as what he's feeling with his new reality, as a king.

When The White Worm found him, and told him about the things ongoing on his home, the castle, the prince grew devastated, and horrified. His father was dead, and his family wad looking for him to crown him as his successor. Aegon doesn't want this, he doesn't! The white-dressed lady promised to keep him hidden, and tucked him away so no one would find him and he could be at peace. Soon, she would help him to get out of the city, after she attended to some business. He'd just have to wait for her.

False.

Ser Arryk stops walking when a cough suddenly makes echo, right besides him.

-Listen-, he immediately calls. His twin halts his steps as well, cautiously staring at the round table besides them.

Another choked cough is heard, longer, and this time it was clear that it came from under the table. The twins immediately kneel down in the floor, bending to look below.

-Uh...-, a dumb groan comes from there. Huh, Aegon did say he would find a nice spot underneath this table, didn't he?

Within a second, Erryk and Arryk completely bend down and quickly grabbed some white dirty hands resting in there.

-No, no!-. The tired voice beneath the table gasps and starts complaining with despair-. No! Agh-, it groans with pain.

The Cargyll twins drag out from under the table none less that the silver-haired Prince Aegon, who groans with his eyed closed and a dirty face, totally exhausted and devastated.

-Uhh-, Aegon drags a dumb sound as he's being dragged out. He feels in a dream. Rather, a nightmare, for he has been found-. ARGH!-, he shouts desperately when feeling how they grabbed him tightly from the arms, making his wounds hurt. He groans, trying to fight against them, but unable to even move a finger.

The twins turn him around, making him to face them. Ser Erryk presses his lips with disgust when he sees his dirty factions, while Ser Arryk furrowed his brows, serious.

-Where is the White Worm?-, Aegon asks, dizzy and breathless.

-She sold you for a price-, his sworn protector answered him, codly. The prince didn't even get surprised when learning he was betrayed.

-And why have you paid it?-, he asks, offended. Blinkless, Erryk looks at his twin, wondering if he's seeing the scoundrel this one is-. I want my mother-, Aegon drags his words, pathetically.

In that moment, Erryk let him loose completely, stepping away from him with his eyes hugely open. Arryk grabbs the prince tighter, talking to him.

-Your grandfather, The Hand, will meet you outside the city walls-. He dictates with a harsh tone, and Aegon felt his heart sinking even deeper.

The prince groaned and from a second to another escaped from the knight's grip, shooting out running as fast as he could, soaked in fear. But he's so weak that Arryk catched within two blinks, making him to fall on the floor.

Aegon grunts, desperate, with no way out. Ser Arryk, on top of him, grabbs his arms with force, looking at him with harshness.

-You flee what other men die seeking, Aegon-. The knight tries to bring him to his senses, but the prince does nothing but grunt, trying to escape.

Arryk sighs heavily, turning to look at his twin.

Erryk's eyes reflect the candles of the table, expressing seriousness, and denial. He just stares at them, moveless, not even breathing. He sees Aegon struggling and drooling. Erryk slowly shakes his head.

Moments then, the twins walk out of The High Sept, taking the prince with them. Rather, Erryk is the one doing the work. Erryk stayed inside, thoughtful.

Little they were expecting Ser Criston Cole to make sudden act of appearance, until he stepoed in front of them, pointing at them with his sword. Much less were they anticipating prince Aemond's presence either, until he rose up from the stairs of the temple, all hooded.

Ser Arryk stopped walking, shocked. Prince Aegon, in his arms, huffs a tired laugh, bemused.

-I do regret this, friend-. Criston talks to his White Cloak brother.

Aemond steps front with cautiousness, staring at his brother with an attentive eye. He sees how dirty he looks, soaked in his own mucus, sweat and saliva. He's not a king anywhere.

Bravely, Arryk shows that he also carries his sword with him. The sight made Cole to smirk taunt, knowing he can beat him within a second. Aegon looks at his brother, breathing slowly.

Now, let's get into action.

In less than a second, Aegon wriggled free of Ser Arryk's grasp and sped away. Both knights quickly drew their swords, attacking the other. And Prince Aemond turned to run swiftly down the stairs, not thinking it twice.

As the swords began to clang, Aegon and Aemond ran down different stairs. The older brother goes as fastly as he can, but his younger brother, in much better form than him, doesn't takes long to catch him.

The Targaryen siblings both grunt when they abruptly fell in the floor after the younger catched the older. The undercover White Cloaks fight violently between them, to a point where Ser Arryk kicked Ser Criston down the stairs, and he rolled in them until quickly standing up again, grabbing back his weapon.

Ser Arryk runs down the stairs, planning to go to Aegon, but Criston swiftly attacks him again, and so their fight was resumed, with both of them yelling and grunting.

-No! Stop!-, Aegon shouts as Aemond grabs one of his legs and drags him strongly, holding his shoulders to keep him quiet-. No!-, he yells, hearing his brother's grunts.

Erryk finally walks out of the temple, just to find knight fighting knight, and brother fighting brother. He stays on his very place, serious, easily realizing that this is not right.

As the cherry on top of this stinking cake, Aegon began to blatantly laugh while struggling with Aemond, giggling as he ignores the sharp pain in both his arms, which are starting to bleed, again, under his coat.

Aemond hisses, finally pinning him down with firmness, gripping his shoulder. He looks down at him, sourness on his eye.

-I was hoping you disappeared-, the younger brother admits, burlesque.

-Is our father truly dead?-. The older questions, with tear on his violet exhausted and fearful eyes.

-Yes-, Aemond answered with no apparent grief, looking around as he breathes fast, amd his brother whined-. And they're going to make you King-, he hisses, knowing that this scares him.

Outraged, Aegon furrows his brows and spits harshly on his brother's face.

-Agh!-, Aemond grunts with disgust, backing, but he quickly grabbed him again, now even tighter than before, getting him up from the floor.

-NO!-, Aegon cries, feeling the pulsing pain on his arms, and the pulsing despair on his chest-. AREN'T YOU GOING TO HELP ME?!-, he desperately yelled towards the quiet Cargyll twin, his protector.

However, Erryk remains still in his place, watching evetything. He eyes the people around, who are staring at the fight with fear, quickly stepping away. He recognized, between those people, a woman that the princess Daera is fond of, the one that has a children shelter. Moringa, it was, who ran from there with precaution.

Arryk and Criston's fight came to an end when the older knight threw away the other's sword, and pointed at him with his own, leaving him defenseless.

-No! Let me go!-, Aegon pleads with despair, struggling against his brother.

-Where's your brother, huh?-. Criston mocks, pushing Arryk, and caged him with his sword's end. The twin breathes heavily, helpless.

-LET ME GO!-, the older prince pleads, while the younger pretends to be deaf-. Brother!-, he yells, struggling, and letting out a long tired groan.

After seeing his twin's blindness, Ser Cole's machiavellian smile, prince Aemond's complicity and prince Aegon's ridiculousness and cowardice, Ser Erryk decided he does not need to see more. Quietly as the wind, he turned around, and walked away, leaving The Hight Sept.

-LET ME GOO!-, Aegon demands with a loud shout, still struggling against his brother. He sobbs, desperated-. I have no wish to rule!-, he yells with despair-. No taste for duty! I'm not suited!-, he insists, not caring about humiliating himself.

-You'll get no argument from me!-. Aemond answered him, burlesque, not looking at him, not able to bear the sight of someone so ungrateful and stupid.

Aegon whines and breathes fast, suddenly turning around to grab his brother's face with both his dirty stained hands.

-You let me go. I will find a ship and sail away, never to be found-. Aegon proposed to him from a moment to another, smiling with a pinch of hope, sweating even from the ears.

And it was only then that Aemond finally stopped struggling. His lips parted and his mind found hope in that proposal. Shocked, he thinks how that would solve everything. Aegon goes away, the crown will fall on to him, and then- and then he can be Ki-

-The Queen awaits-. Ser Criston broke both of the princes's dreams, when he arrived and grabbed Aegon's shoulders, which hurted.

Aegon clenched his jaw, and closed his trembling lips. If he had only asked earlier. Aemond stayed blinkless, staring front. If he had only thought of that before...

Criston walks away with the older prince, who sobbed under his grip, closing his teary eyes.

The One-Eyed Prince, moveless, realizes the opportunity he has just lost. Bemused, he blinks multiple times, and then sucks his inferior lip, more than frustrated.

■ ■ ■

Alicent has Aegon. Everything has been decided.

Criston Cole will be named Lord Commander of The Kingsguard, for Ser Harrold Westerling resigned his position after learning the Greens schemes and plots.

Aegon will be anointed tomorrow, at dawn, and the whole of King's Landing will witness his ascent. He will take the crown of his namesake, Aegon The Conqueror, and carry Blackfyre, his sword, to let the people temember the ancient strength or House Targaryen.

The night has already fallen, so all that is left to do is wait, though that doesn't make it any simple, or easier. After all this years and years of dithering and discussions, tomorrow a side will finally win this game. The Greens.

Aemond has come again to wear his fine leather clothes, and his meaningful black leather eyepatch. The prince is seated in front of a fireplace, as he so much does, bit this are not his mother's or his own chambers.

No, rather these are his wife's.

He took a bath after coming back from the city and, after getting dressed, he took the secret passageways and came to Daera's rooms, which are totally lonely, and silent. Joyless, as everything is when she's not around.

Aemond took seat in front of the fireplace after litting it up. Besides him, in a near chair, it appears that Daera forgot her leather coat, for it remains in that seat. He will not deny that he sniff it in order to find out if it was hers. It smells like dragon, and perfume. It is hers.

The prince is feeling somewhat easier than this morning, mainly because he knows his wife is not in danger anymore, for nothing will be sent to Dragonstone than terms, as his mother told him, not murderers. His brother will be crown at dawn. His family will be safe. No bastard will sit the throne...

He knows this is what they have been expecting for, their wholes life. It will finally be done. But, then why does he feel like there are things still to be done, like nothing is truly...complete, as it should be?

For starters, Aegon will be the one crowned tomorrow. It upsets him, not in the sense that it upsetted Ser Erryk, but in the sense that ot should be him the one placed as king of The Seven Kingdoms. Everybody must see it! Aegon is unfit to rule, not even capable of taking care of himself. What is he to do with Seven Kingdoms under his yoke?

His older brother is as unhappy as him with this decision. But -and he's only wondering in here- what if there is a way? Well, Aegon said it himself, this afternoon. What if he flees away? The Conqueror's crown would immediately fall onto his head, and it would fit him so perfectly, there is no doubt. The people would see that he does has the wood to be a King, the determination to be a leader.

What if, after the coronation, Aegon disappears, nowhere to be found? He would happily go away to live his days with whores and ale, away from any duty, as he dreams of. And his brother, the prince Aemond, would fulfill his dream as well. They'd both win, and their family would still be safe, safer even. What if he tries, then? Aegon wouldn't say no, he's sure.

King Aemond I of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, Protector of the Realm and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. It fits. Queen Daera Targaryen, his cousin wife, fits even better.

There would be no matchable couple. They'd be unstoppable, and would take House Targaryen to the height of its strength, with two adult dragons -two of the most fierces and oldests out there- standing with them besides The Iron Throne. No one could tear them down. No one could gainsaid their word.

They'd be remembered even more than The Old King, Jaehaerys I, and his Good Queen Alysanne. More than his own parents, King Viserys and Queen Alicent. They would rule with...

Aemond blinks, making a slow pout with his lips. After saying that in his mind he realizes it is the first time he truly thinks of his father since he knew of his dead. All day had been of searchs and runs, but now...with the silence in Daera's room...is that he's becaming aware of the obvious yet ignored by him truth.

Viserys is dead.

His life is ended, and he truly lived it whole without loving hia second son. Without loving any of the children of his second marriage. It was always obvious, of course, but now it feels different. Now there is truly no chance to change that, to try, to speak with him one more time. Viserys Targaryen died, and his son, Aemond, never got love from him, nor an apology, nor nothing. Endless nothingness.

Why would he cry? He never loved his dad. And yet, tears are gathering in his eye, and he felt it burning because of them. Aemond gags, and then gulps, starting to breath fast. His chest becames heavy, and his heart sad. He hadn't know mourning before. What is this?

So he never truly had a father, huh? His mother's excuses for Viserys's neglect would never convinced him. His ill is no excuse. Viserys was well, more than well and lucid, for a great part of Aemond's life. He waa confined stricly to his chambers barely a year and a half ago. What about before that? Not one talk, not one true smile, not one apology, not one pat on his shoulder, not one flatter on his training. No nothing!

Ha hated him. Gods, did Aemond hated his father. And now he's dead. Should he be happy? Should he be relieved? Then why does it hurts so much? He just died, that ugly rotting coward of a King, like he had any right to it. Only ever standing up for Rhaenyra, shielding all of her crimes and treasons, taking her whole family under his arms and hugging and kissing them with love everytime he'd see them. What about him? What about Aegon, Helaena, Daeron? Nothing to him, it appears...They were never nothing.

Aemond covers his mouth and curves his sweaty brows, crying with no end. He feels a hole being dig in his chest with no mercy as the tears keep falling from his eye.

The prince sobbs, drowned in sorrow, covering his mouth tighter, shaking his head from side to side.

So today he lost his father...and yesterday he lost the chance of becoming one.

That thought was his last straw, definitely. He fell on his knees in front of the fireplace, slouching his back and bending to hide his face into his arms, endlessly whining with severe sadness, grief, and glum. He feels so alone, unconsolable, and desperated.

Viserys, Alyssa. One he hated, and one he loved. And he lost them both. One by the passing of time, and the other for the miscalculation of it. Oh, the gods are so cruel sometimes...

Aemond weeps, breathless, wanting to feel those familiar hands on his face, to hear that voice that know how to calm down his sorrows. Of fuck, he doesn't care about no discussion from last night. He just wants her, he needs her.

I want my love.

■ ■ ■

I need to leave.

No other thought has crossed Princess Rhaenys's mind since Queen Alicent locked her in her chambers, in The Red Keep.

A new day is arriving, making Aegon's coronation to be just hours away now. She was demanded to ring the bell when she has her answer. The Lady of Driftmark, as a matter of fact, has her answer already, but one that would take her straight to The King's Justice and its guillotine.

She cannot join the Greens.

Doing so would mean the end of all of her grandchildren, and she has no right to doubt it, and neither will. Jace, Luke and Joff are claimants to the throne, while Daera and Rhaena are their wife and betrothed to them, respectively. Baela wouldn't be spared, and the babes Viserys and Aegon -Rhaenyra's only legitimate sons- of course would end dead as well.

She needs to warn them. She needs Meleys, her dragon, and fly as quickly as possible to Dragonstone, to tell them everything once and for all. They know nothing, she's sure, for the Dowager Queen will most likely wait to crown her son King before even letting them know what has happened.

Rhaenyra will be crushed, Daemon outraged, and all the children as well, with these news. And Daera, oh Daera, her romantic bold granddaughter. When she learns that the husband she so heartily defends time after time has betrayed her blatantly to place his brother in The iron Throne, one that is promised to her for after her parents's rule...huh, she so much tried to tell her. And she didn't listen.

The Lady of Driftmark knew it, she always knew that Aemond wasn't to trust. That witless, who didn't even have the hypocrisy to come and talk to her to at least sell her fake promises of love for her granddaughter.

Rhaenys, moveless, gives a single blink after minutes without doing so. She wonders what is she to do, what is she to say. Oh, when Corlys know how they've been keeping her.

-Out of my way!-, a male shout comes from the hallway outside, and then punches and grunts are heard.

Rhaenys startles, raising her brows and turning to look at the entrance, wondering if she imagined those sounds. Though she definitely didn't imagine when the doors are opened from the outside, and a White Cloak guard comes into the room.

This is Ser Erryk.

The armoured Ser Erryk enters to the chambers with quick steps and a heavy breath, carrying with him a long coat, and a bag hanging in his shoulder.

-With me, Princess-. The knight talks, handing her the coat. Rhaenys stares at him with her lips closed, not knowing what choosing of color to expect from this man-. I cannot let this treachery stand-. He dictates with firmness.

The White Cloak chose black.

■ ■ ■

The day of the coronation has officially arrived.

Flea Bottom is a mess. All of the people are being guided -to not use the words pressed, pushed, and obliged- by the Gold Cloaks of the castle, making them all to walk -to not say run- through the countless narrow streets of the city.

From all the alleys and taverns, from the Street of Silk to the Street of Steel and the Street of the Sisters, everbody is being forced to walk the same path and head towards one common place: The Dragonpit.

Moringa, the owner of the children shelter, runs with the bunch of people, going with a confused and uncomfortable expression.

Dunc, the old man owner of a fruit stall, is being harshly pushed by all the people behind them, and he walks as quickly as he can, out of breath.

In another street, Ajy, Jya, Ajy and Yja run as well, al stained in oil and grease from their stall. The blacksmith brothers go together, walking fastly and alerted, not understanding what is happening. The older and taller one, Ajy, watches his brothers with alert, and they copy his face, not having a good gut. Soon, they startef to get violently push, making them grunt and walk faster, and to push the people ahead as well.

The whore of the Street of Silk, Levy, walks with quickness and confusion with a bunch of his girls from their brothel, all of them foxed and bemused.

Nobody knows, not even imagine, that the princess Rhaenys is among them, hooded and silent. She has lost Ser Erryk into the crowd, and Ser Erryk has lost her, looking desperately for her between all the peasants and commonfolk.

-Out of my way!-, the White Cloak yells as he runs with hurry between the people, pushing some.

-OW!-, Jay hisses when he is violently pushed by that guard-. WATCH IT, CURTAIN BOY-, he yelled with annoyment.

-Jay!-, Jya punches him with reproachment.

-The idiot didn't even hear me!-, he quickly discussed back. The mute brother breathes fast, watching upfront.

-Just keep walking!!-, Ajy yells at them with seriousness, not losing any of them out of sight.

-MAKE WAY FOR THE ROYAL WHEELHOUSE!-, the Captain of the City Watch starts to shout towards the peasants, and his guards pushed them back, clearing the street.

The people behind the Gold Cloaks, most of them yelling and pushing each other, moments then see how two royal wheelhouse pass running with their fine multiple horses, going fastly towards a same place.

Between those people, Princess Rhaenys watches them with her lips parted, knowing who are inside of those carriages.

In one, goes Queen Alicent with the future king, her son Aegon. And, in the second one, her other children. Princess Helaena, and prince Aemond.

The one-eyed goes completely silent, looking down at his black leather pants, and caressing the handle of his sword. His sister, seated in front of him, is constantly whispering and mumbling under her breath, playing with her fingers as she nods.

When Helaena finally learned of her father's death, by Claudia's mouth, she seated on her bed with her face down, completely silent. Definitely not the reaction of a daughter who just lost her father, but she was indeed sad, in her own way. What pained her the most was that she didn't have the chance to say goodbye to him, and neither to thank him for used to give her sweets when she was a child. Viserys will be missed, at least by one of his children.

Now, in the way to crown her husband as King, and make her Queen, her heart beats with total uneasiness and nerves, for she fears the very words that she's constantly whispering.

-There is a beast beneath the boards...-, the princess whispers, and then gulps. She doesn't know exactly what they mean, but she is utterly scared of them.

Aemond sighs through his nose, getting out of his mind, and looking up at her.

-Helaena-. He calls, and she immediately looks, attentive-...Did you happen to see Daera, before she left?-. The prince asks into a mumble, looking down again.

This is the first enounter he has with his siser since the brief moment yesterday's morning, for they kept apart during all of the fuss, attentive to their own matters, specially him. So now that he's with her, alone, he must know.

When hearing the question, Helaena stopped scratching her nails, and she tilts her head to a side, feeling some sort of ease when her cousin was mentioned.

-I was waiting for her in her chambers, last night, and we were together...after she returned from your island-. Helaena answers, calmly. Aemond's body shivers with shame, and he looks down when learning that she apparently knows what happened-. I...cried with her-, she confesses, softly.

Aemond closes his eye strongly, feeling his throat trembling for a second.

-Did she...?-, he leaves his question in the air.

-She told me-. The princess answers with a low whisper, noding. Aemond gulped, and slouched his back to cover the half of his face with a hand, ashamed. She presses her pink lips, slowly blinking-. I am sorry, brother...-, she mumbles, sad.

-Does she hates me entirely then, or how much?-. The one-eyed questions with a graceless smile, shaking his head. His sister furrows her brows, surprised-. How many times did she cursed my name? Is she never to see me again, or...?-, he lets his mind eat him alive.

-Daera will be back today-. Helaena interrupted him with a curious tone, tilting her head. Aemond went speechless, opening his eye big-. Mother asked our sister to visit us again, and Daera'll come with her, from their home...today-, she raises her brows, simple.

Aemond blinks, shocked. Why is she the first one to tell him this?, he wonders. To be honest, no one else recalls it.

-Will she?-, the prince whispers, with a voice thinner than what he would have liked. A glimpse of hope installed itself on his heart.

-Yes-, Helaena smiles tinyly, feeling his hope.

He gulps, deeply breathing in, and his sister sighs softly.

-Daera doesn't hate you-. She denied with sureness, shaking her head. Aemond looks up at her, with his eye shinning with both sadness and faith-. She just needed time, to think of what happened-, Helaena says with a light sweetness, giving him a small smile.

Aemond sighs, bemused, blinking slowly. He thinks about Daera's face, and his heart got so instantly warm. The idea of she returning today, to see her again. Fuck, even if it is to discuss! He just wants to see her, to finally erase that last expression he saw on her face, so broken and mad with him, weeping. He just...he just wants to see her fine.

Helaena sees the tiny smirk that grew on his lips as he glanced outside the carriage. She blinks, keeping a blank expression, reading his face. Something didn't set right, suddenly, with that hope of him. It feels ephimeral.

-...But there is no more time-, she thinly whispering, looking down, and scratching her nails again.

Not long after, they were arriving to the place where the coronation will be taking place. Helaena knew it just by feeling the beating of Dreamfyre's heart in her own.

They are at The Dragonpit.

Aemond sighed slowly through his nose as the guards open the doors for them. He's the first one to stand up, making her a sign to follow.

-Brother-. But she suddenly stopped him, grabbing an arm of him. He turns his head, curious.

-What is it, sister?-. Aemond questions, sort of confused when seeing the uneasiness on her eyes.

Helaena, with her lips parted, and her breath heavy, looks deeply at him.

-This is not right...-, she simply whispered, fearful, and mistrusted. When hearing her, he furrows his brows, slowly stepping out of her gripping.

-It is, sister-. He nods, with not one doubt-. We waited all of our lives for this-. Aemond dictated, and then he walked out of the carriage, leaving her alone.

Helaena blinks hugely, gulping, with the worst of feelings on her chest. Then she suddenly looks down at her belly, groaning when feeling it pulsing.

The princess breathes heavily, closing her violet teary eyes.

■ ■ ■

When the sun of the new day was only starting to rise, the skies of Dragonstone were dyed of soft yellow and blue tones, having so much calm in them, nothing like how things were back in the capital, at this hour.

The quiet dawn is being watched by both dragon and rider. Whilst Kalistrox flaps his golden wings with freedom, circling over the misty shores of the rock island, Daera is seated on her balcony, staring at her golden sweetheart, and at the golden coming sun.

The princess, even though the early hour, islready awaken, since a long while ago actually. She slept little, to be honest, but she cried a little less than last night, mostly becaude she went out to rode Kalistrox, sharing a lovely silent moment with him above the clouds of the night, waving to the moon. When has a ride with her dragon haven't ease her heart?

Today, she and Kalistrox fly back to King's Landing. Rhaenyra and Syrax will be with them this time. Within an hour or so, when it is officially morning, Daera will come out of her rooms, as well as her family will do too, to start the day. Soon enough, a while after breakfast perhaps, they'll be leaving Dragonstone.

They'll arrive to The Red Keep, and she'll see Aemond. And that...that is exactly what she wants.

They have to talk, urgently, and she has the big feeling that everything will turn out just fine. The matter is rough, she knows, but she feels her heart is already in the right place to talk about it with the fitting mind. By the end of the day, she'll be cuddling with him in his rooms, singing to his ear, probably, or rather riding him sweetly as he cries her name with love, as he always do.

Always. That is the word. They always talk things through, and she knows this won't be the exception. Why woud it be, because its hard? Matters don't to her. If it'd be for that, they wouldn't even be married. So, she is decided.

They'll talk. And they'll both listen.

■ ■ ■

-People of King's Landing...!-, the voice of Otto Hightower was heard all along the place.

The people of Flea Bottom is now all gathered within the walls of The Dragonpit, in The Hill of Rhaenys. They are so much that a great amount stayed outside the open gates, listening to what the distance allows them to.

The royal family is at the peak of the pit, all of them standing there with their fine expensive clothes.

-Fuck, now what is this about?-. Ajy mumbles under his breath, annoyed. His brothers share the feeling, standing to the left of the great hall.

-Some royal shit...-, Jay whispers with poison, having eyes fixated on The Hand of the King, that tall and cocky Hightower.

-Today is the saddest of days!-. Otto informs with a light sorrow, and the rise of his voice started to calm the mumbles of the smallfolk-. Our beloved King, Viserys The Peaceful...is dead!-. He announced with heaviness, an honest one, remembering the one who once was his friend.

Gasps and mumbles were not to wait, from the people, most of them turning their head to speak to one another, while others seemed simply uninterested, and others truly terrified. Moringa, for one, curves her brows in shock, blinkless.

-But it is also the most joyous of days....!-. The Hand speaks again, firmly.

-What the fuck is it? The happiest or the saddest, you son of a bitch?-. Jya questions with confusion, and some around him even laughed.

Rhaenys, mixed between all of the people, side-eyes with curiosity to that group of young men who laughed. She gulps, thinking of her deceased cousin, and looking front again.

-For as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish!-. Otto screams with firmness so all the people would hear him clear-. That his firstborn son, Aegon...!-. He nearly smiles, slowly looking around-...should succeed him!-, he declares.

Rhaenys parts her lips, bemused. They are really doing this, so blatantly.

Moringa blinks slowly, taking the information in while everybody around her whispers and questions a thousand things.

The blacksmith brothers all four furrowed their brows, glancing at each other between them.

Seconds then, a round of empty and automatic applauses raises in the hall, echoing within the walls. A marching sound catches the attention of many. It were the men of the Kingsguard marching fully synchronized, wearing gold and red cloaks.

-Guards!-, their commander calls them.

The guards march in two divided lines, creating a generous space to walk in the middle of them, but only for one people to do so.

Aemond and Helaena stand silently besides their mother, who wears a green veil of duel, and a dress entirely green, as always. The one-eyed is standing with firmness, with his hands crossed behind his back, while the princess plays with her fingers over her belly, dressed in a beautiful blue gown. For some reason, she is nodding.

-Halt!-, the Commander orders, and all the guards immediately stop-. Turn!-, he ordered, and each of them twirled on their feet, facing the other line.

Leby raised her brows when a song of trumpets began to be played by three men wearing Targaryen uniforms. The woman blinks curiously, tilting her head, and watching at the guards.

From his place, Aemond nearly rolled his eye when hearing the triumphant trumpets.

-Present arms...!-, the Commander of the marchers yells. All of the guards took out their swords, raising them firmly to point at the high ceiling, creating a hallway between them.

And then, Prince Aegon stepped in, for he is the one who the guards made all of this for, who the musicians played the trumpets for. For the future King.

For a boy who started walking with a tear shining on his pale cheek.

A total silence covered the room when he began to walk into that hallway. With every step he takes, the swords behind him turn to point down, protecting his back.

Aegon walks with empty exhausted eyes and slow steps, weary, almost embarrased. He feels this is not his place, this is not his destiny. This is not him...and yet he can't even mutter a word against it.

The blacksmith brothers look at that silver-haired man walking near them. They saw his miserable face, the lack of color in it. He looks like a cursed ghost.

-But princess Daera is The Heir-, Jay mumbles with confusion.

-Her mother is, Rhaenyra, before her. This doesn't makes sense-. Ajy instantly adds within a whisper, having his brows furrowed.

-Step-mother...-, Jya corrected with a distracted mutter, following the prince with his mistrusted eyes, as Yja is also doing, with his throat afflicted.

-Oh my gods-, Jay sighs, shaking his head-. Wait, but princess Rhaenyra is brown-skinned too, right...?-, he mumbled confused. Jya and Yja shrugged, sincerely not knowing. Too young to, they've never seen The Realm's Delight. Many have never.

-They are usurping the throne...-, Ajy whispered under his breath, outraged.

Aemond presses his lips, seeing his brother approaching through the space made for him. That should be him.

-It is of your great good fortune and privilege to be here to witness this!-. The Hand's voice yells with pride and hope, echoing within the walls.

-A new day for our city, a new day for our realm!-. He promises, as his older grandson of teary eyes looks up-. A new king...to lead us!-, he states.

After gulping, and while the guards sheath their swords again, Aegon walks the stairs up towards his family, being watched by all of them. Aemond pressed his lips, and didn't look at him, while Helaena stares at him at all moment, rare of her.

Alicent walked to his son, holding both of his cheeks, and lowering his head to place a soft kiss on his forehead, blessing him. He blinked a multiple times, looking down, not remembering when was the last time he had felt her motherly tender lips on him.

Attentive, while the guards are leaving the hall, Rhaenys watches how Aegon kneels in the floor. The septon to crown him walks to him with a circle plate that holds blessed oil.

A strong cough echoes in the middle of the silence.

After taking three more glances towards them, the princess Rhaenys turned around and started to walk in the middle of all the people, going quietly.

-May the Warrior give him courage!-. Septon Eustace's voice echoes in the whole pit, and his thumb spreads oil in the prince's head-. May the Smith lend strength to his sword and shield!-, he says.

A thin tear on Helaena's right cheek is already dry, and her teary eyes stare at her husband with not even a blink getting in the way.

When seeing an old woman struggling to walk through, Yja signaled his brothers to give her a space, and they did, more attentive to the coronation. Rhaenys eyed the young boy for a second and nodded towards him. He nodded back with a kind little smile, glancing to the silver roots of her hair.

And so, as cautionly as possible, Rhaenys ran down to the underneath of the Dragonpit, leaving the crowd behind.

Aemond clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath in while Septon Eustace finishes his sayings. The one-eyed keeps thinking how Aegon is unfit to all of this. Hells, he seems like he is about to faint. But now, Aemond is seeing that he can't do anything about this.

No, he can't talk to his brother to flee his position, so the crown can be passed to him. That is stupid, and even if Aegon would surely do it, that is treason, not only to the realm itself, but to his mother, and to himself. Aemond can do nothing but stay silent, watch, and be stepped over, time after time.

-The crown of The Conqueror!-. Ser Criston announces with firmness, now holding the very crown of the Conqueror of The Seven Kingdoms-...passed down through generations!-. He states.

Aegon breathes deeply, feeling his heart is almost jumping off his chest. Ser Criston approaches to him with slow steps, taking his time. And then, the Valyrian crown is placed upon his head.

Right at that moment is when princess Helaena draws her gaze away, turning her head to not look back at there never more, afflicting her throat.

The roles were exchanged, for now is Aemond the one who stares at him without blinking. He looks at that crown with lust and frustration. Poison, and envy.

-Let the Seven bear witness: Aegon Targaryen is the true Heir to The Iron Throne!-. Ser Criston dictated with a strong voice, tilting his head.

The crowd started to mumble, yet again, many wondering the same thing: what about princess Rhaenyra? The Dragon's Goodness is the true Heir. Does The Realm's Delight know about this?

Others, instead, nod with pride. The King's firstborn son, of course, as it should be. No woman's parts will seat the throne. This one will be as brave as his namesake, they're sure.

Some weep, whilst other cheer, but most of the smallfolk stare the moment in silence, confused and wary, now and again mumbling with their confusion and outrage.

Ajy's fists tighted at the sides of his body, and his lips muttered words that came from the bottom of his soul.

-...Long live our Queen-

Hearing the wave of mumbles behind him, Aegon breathed deeply, with frozen tears on his eyes. He gulped, wondering about what they may be whispering. Do they hate him? They would not be the first ones.

Eustace helped him to stand.

Aegon kneeled as a prince, and now he stood as a King, something that he began to understand when the septon was the first one to bow his head to him, and then Ser Criston followed.

Aegon watches as his mother, and she duly closed her eyes and bowed to him, making a perfect reverence. His heart tucked at the sight, surprised.

He looks at his siblings, who also bowed at him...eventually, after being moveless for some seconds. Helaena did it while looking away, clenching her jaw, and Aemond more like noded towards him, blinkless.

Otto bowed to his grandson with a smirk on his thin lips, paying to him full respect.

-All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar and the First Men...!-. Septon Eustace names with steadiness as Aegon slowly starts to turn his exhausted sad eyes towards the people-, Lord of The Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!-, his voice echoed.

Everybody stares silently at him. The bells start to toil.

-Aegon The King!!-. Ser Criston suddenly yelled, making Helaena to flinch.

Aegon flickers, about to draw his gaze down with shame, but a sound catches his attention. Sounds.

The crowd started to clap and cheer after Cole's shout. Within a second, they start to grow louder and happier, stronger and wilder.

Aegon begins to face them fully, bemused. Criston shares a glance with Alicent, who breathed in with deepness. Aemond stays like a rock, lost in his mind, suddenly desiring to be back in Pentos. Helaena moves on her place, restless, closing her eyes and wrinkling her lips before all the noise.

The cheers and applauses in The Dragonpit are now at its height, for the people are celebrating their new King, at least the most of them are. The quiets are totally covered by the screaming cheering ones.

Aegon looks at them with a shine on his eyes, glancing at all the happy faces from the surroundings. They are...they are happy because of him.

Moringa jumps in her place while she cheers and yells and claps, screaming The King's name endlessly with pride and support.

The blacksmiths brothers remains silent and bemused, staring in shock to the cheering people around them, and also sharing glances of displeasure with the ones who are as outraged as them.

King Aegon takes out his sword, Blackfyre, within a second. He takes three steps front, with his lips parted, looking at his people.

I am their King.

And then he raised Blackfyre, and they cheered even louder, clapping endlessly.

They love me.

And then again.

No one stands over me now.

And then again.

I am The King.

Aegon opens his arms to the sides of his body, pressing his lips into a most egoistic expression, looking at all of them, letting himself to be praised.

-No, no no no...-. Helaena whispers, with her head down, and her eyes closed.

Aemond gulps strongly, staring at all the cheering people of the pit, not even listening to his sister's constant mumbles. He clenches his jaw, with a dark shadow casted over his mind.

Dowager Queen Alicent blinks while looking at her son, and a tired proud smile grows in her lips as she stares at him. Safe. He is, they are, safe. At last...

-LONG LIVE OUR QUEEN!-

-AEGON THE KING!!!-

-LONG LIVE AEGOOON!-

The screams continue. Though they quickly turned to be scared and desperate ones.

From a moment to another, the floors of the center of the pit is suddenly pierced and broken down by an emerging huge figure that sent out flying people and rocks as equal.

Ajy and his brothers screamed and walked backwards within a second while the ground shakes endlessly under them. They yell and shout along all the rest of the people of the place, starting to push each other to flee immediately.

The Dragonpit is covered by the sharp roar of the demon that emerged from hell. A winged red being that screeches as the people around it run and yell with despair and for their lives, going from one side to another.

Helaena gasped and opened her eyes big, immediately grabbing Aemond's arm, who crossed it in front of her as soon as the fuss began. He presses his lips and breathes fast, looking at there.

-RUN!-

-QUICKLY!-

-IT IS A DEMON! IT IS A DEVIL!-

-OUT OF THE WAY!-

-PLEASE!-

-I AM TRAPPED, MY LEG!-

-HEEELP!-

-RUN! RUN! RUN!-

A heavy cloud of smoke rose in the air along the endless shrieks of the beast that came from beneath the floors. Everybody is running as fastly as they can, escaping from it while their eyes tears because of the smoke and the fright in them, fearing for their lives.

It is a dragon. A mad roaring dragon.

Moringa got out of The Dragonpit in the middle of a desperate crying, running down its stairs while still hearing the beast's angry song.

Six of Leby's girls were completely taken out by a single rock, which crashed their whole bodies against the floor, exploding their heads completely.

-RUN RUN RUN RUN! DON'T FUCKING STOP!-. Ajy and Jay go screaming while they push their brothers with no end, all of them running as quickly as they can towards the not to far gates of the pit.

Aegon looks at the scene with total perturbation, thinking of Sunfyre, his dragon, which is down in the caves. Chained.

The dragon moves its long red tail, and with an only pass it swept up around twenty three people with it. Dunc was teared apart by it, being thrown to a wall, and dying right when his skulled crashed against a Targaryen pointy heraldry.

Leby was pushed by the tail, and she fell screaming into the hole the dragon has left, soon falling on a pile of rocks, breaking her back and legs. First, she was suffocated by the smoke, coughing endlessly, and then died when a rock was thrown from up and it landed right on her face, making her blue eyes to jump out of her head.

Alicent walks backwards along Ser Criston. She frightened, glancing at her children with fear, and he bemused, staring at the red beast.

In the middle of yellings and screams, the four brothers we know from The Street of Steel ran out from the pit with stopless legs and uncontroled heartbeats, shouting a thousand curses as they push and drag with them more people, taking them away from the terrorist attack.

As the cloud of smoke is slowly beginning to vanish away, and the red dragon keeps roaring towards the peasants, and murdering them, the person riding it began to be more clear to the royal's eyes.

Now they are aware that this is Meleys, The Red Queen. And who mounts her, is princess Rhaenys...The Queen Who Never Was.

And when realizing it, Helaena's grip on her brother's shoulder began to grow loose. She distractedly caressed it with her fingers as she watches at the beast beneath the boards and her rider, with parted lips and blinkless eyes.

Aemond watches her as well, but with full caution and alert. His eye is widely opened, and his chest is coming up and down as he looks at his wife's grandmother.

Aegon looks front with bemusement and rage, for they have totally ruined his moment. And worst: they'll ruin even more.

Rhaenys looks at all of them with an expression of superiority. Her coat is gone, and now she wears her red and grey dragonrider armour. Unfazed, she glares down at them.

-The children-, Helaena whispers under her breath.

Though the people of King's Landing still flee the place with endless screams thst plead for mercy, the Gold Cloaks of the entrance are closing the gates rather than keeping them open, fighting against the running people.

For they are loyal to The Prince of The City. Daemon Targaryen.

-OPEN THE DOORS!-, Otto walked forward with a loud shouting, raged.

Rhaenys parts her lips and turns her head around, finding the sight of the gold cloaks harshly pushing the doors, to keep The Greens right where they are: at sight. The betrayers have been betrayed, it seems.

Aemond is ready to fight, for today is not the day that he'll die, neither that of his family. So he grabbs his sword's handle, ready for anything. Helaena looks at Meleys with interested eyes, waving a hands towards her.

-OPEN THE DOORS!-, Otto screamed again, louder and with far more despair, furrowing his brows.

The Gold Cloaks, nevertheless, are momentarily deaf.

Rhaenys turns her head to look at the Greens again. Her violet eyes tell that she knows she can end this right here, right now, before it is even started. She just has to say a word. A single simple word.

And reading that menacing gaze, Alicent saw her and her children's lives flashing before her hazel eyes, and the fear she felt may be the worst of her life.

-Helaena-, she only mouths with no breath, walking past her sworn protector with his mouth open and her eyes tearful-. Get Helaena!-, her trembling voice ordered him as her hands pushed him.

And even though Criston wanted to stay with her, he pressed his lips and quickly walked towards Helaena, placing her behind of him.

And as The Red Queen's growling face neared to them with a torturing slowness, Alicent ran towards Aegon and caressed his arms while placing him behind her, shielding him with her shorter and weaker body. Aegon looks up with no breath as he feels his mother grip on his wrist. Helaena holds Criston's arm with nerves, gulping and not blinking once. Aemond stood staid and faced the dragon with no dithering, challenging her with his only eye, having one thought: she doesn't dare.

Rhaenys, harshly grabbing her dragon's ropes, sees them. But she sees a mother fearing for her children, protecting them. She sees her granddaughter's loved ones, her best friend, who is also a mother, and her husband.

The Red Queen growls lowly, menacing towards them with her green eyes shining.

Alicent's tearful scared eyes look up at her, slowly closing them when accepting her fate.

Rhaenys clenches her teeth. She will not say the word, even though she has her answer. She'll ring no bell, rather she'll let Meleys speak.

Aemond startled and turned around in a second, grabbing Helaena's head and hugging her to his body to shield her with his own.

The Red Queen opened her mouth to let out the sharpest and more bone-chilling screech towards all the people in front of her, blowing their manes and clothes and souls.

Alicent furrows her sweaty brows while Aegon wrinkles his face behind her. Otto turned his head down and closed his eyes strongly. Ser Criston looked down with his teeth pressed. All the lords and septons with them nearly fell on their trembling knees, while Eustace fainted within a second.

Aemond grunts hoarsely with his eye strongly closed as he tightly hugs Helaena to his body, feeling the beast's breath pushing his back. But Helaena was the only one to remain with her eyes open, looking at the dragon over her brother's shoulder to the dragon, having her mouth opened and her whole body loose, in trance.

A siren diabolical singing came out from Meleys's mouth during five seconds. And afterwards everything turned deadly .

Alicent opened her tearful eyes to look up in shock. Aemond turned his head with the same quickness, staring up at the dragonrider with light tears on his only eye, bemused.

Princess Rhaenys looks at them, calmly, almost with a smirk on her thin lips. Mercy. She looked down at them, with pure mercy. They must learn...but who am I to teach them?

Aemond watched her, speechless, and she looks at him, with her smirk lightly fading away. After a blink, the princess grabbed her saddle. And with that, Meleys began to turn around, growling to them for the last time.

The Red Queen rises in flight with a strong flap, leaving behind the family of traitors. She crossed the doors with agility, and then freely opened her wings when she reached the huge sky, flying in it with quickness. Rhaenys left, leaving them alive.

A decision she'll soon come to regret.

The One-Eyed Prince gulps strongly, staring forward with a teary eye filled of heaviness. He blinks, and starts to slowly look down, knowing where she is now heading to.

Daera.

■ ■ ■

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cbairdash · 4 months ago

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Author’s note: Hoist the Colors may eventually inspire fiction. Most likely will and I’ll gladly write it. But right now, it’s a role-playing game setting with what I hope is an interesting take and look at an “Alternate History” of Earth. It isn’t really “steampunk”, though I can see how someone would get that impression. For me, it’s more a “flintlock fantasy” set on Earth of 1722 in all it’s historical mess… that I’ve stirred up even more!

So, with that said, now we touch on one of the major factions in Hoist the Colors. Mysterious nomads that may play host to the greatest inventors of the time. The Kelstani, also known as the Covenant of the Coast!

Kelstani, the Covenant of the Coast

They’re a traveling people, fed up with the world. Traveling about like a caravan on water.

- Lysander Riverwind, Navigator and cartographer for the Royal Institute of Otherworld Studies

The ocean is a harsh, exacting mistress. Quiet and soothing, yet still cold and merciless as the winter sea. It’s a hard life for anyone that travels the waves, seeking adventure, fortune, or a means to an end. But then there are those that look to the ocean and her turbulent temper as a safe refuge from their past lives.

It isn’t any different in the Caribbean where allegiances shift as quick as the tides while honor runs twice as deep. Among the islands, intrepid souls haunted by circumstance or a clouded past leave the land behind. They have nowhere to turn and no place to go. So they built their home from the sea itself and the timber that floats on her.

An Unlikely Gathering

They come from all walks of life. People from different cultures and places that blend to form a nomadic way of life. They’re often shunned by town and Trading Company alike, and considered dangerous outcasts at best. In the worst case, they’re considered vagabonds, outlaws, or pirates. But unless you cross or cheat them, they’re nothing of the kind. They are the Covenant of the Coast, or the Kelstani.

The Covenant’s name for themselves is the Kelstani, but many nickname them the Sea Rovers. They’re a nomadic people, always on the move and owing no allegiance to a single land or country. A culture living most of their lives aboard extra-wide ships turned floating islands that roam the waves between actual islands and coastlines.

They sail in small convoys of ships, often up to six at a time. This forms the basis of a Kelstani village, what they consider a tribe or a clan. Each ship in the convoy has a special purpose, with the wide galleon or galleons serving as the ‘heart’ of the village. A ‘town square’ which is central to the community.

Tale from Before Time

One of those Kelstani clan ships sailed up about a year after the ‘Fall, in 1713. I’d seen nothing like it. When asked where they hailed from, they just said that they’d always been there…

- Elias Johann St. Claire, Shipwright

The first Kelstani ships were spotted off Havana in 1713, a year after Crossings Fall changed the world. A galleon similar to Spanish make, she was the Malumbe, but was far wider than any normal galleon. With her sailed two frigates named the Shagar and the Nargol that kept a protective watch on the larger vessel.

Little is known or recorded about Kelstani clan history. Most of it came from the crews of those first three ships that day in Havana harbor. Tales from those crews, and any Rover clan since, simply explain they’re Children of the Sea, and that the Sea Goddess watches her own. But rumors suggest a more complicated origin.

References from grimling Sept records suggest that Sea Rover history spreads back to Otherworld before it shattered. There, legend has it that the first Sea Rovers were a morasu fleet that owed allegiance to the Tomia Harogara noble house. But Tovec Masatame, the fleet’s admiral, or Saj’ni in the ancient morasu language, disagreed with his Imperial leaders over their suicidal battle strategy. Instead of open war, he took his followers and fled to the deep seas.

Over time, their numbers grew slowly from among those across Otherworld that felt lost, cast aside, or were displaced from their own lands. When Crossing’s Fall shattered the Otherworld, it also sent the last of the surviving Kelstani to Earth. As is their tradition, they simply kept moving.

For the rest about the Caribbean in Hoist the Colors, see the link above!

Taglist: @thelaughingstag

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libidomechanica · 11 months ago

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Untitled Composition # 11002

A rispetto sequence

Now greet? Put for never die forming eye? Exhibits strove the Pottery. I have a new sash out him, pale and share one forc’d to speak the fire! Creative me path; and single ladies, each several English, harsh-sound out they go forth. Men resounds will draw his Brain once it red; nor Man! Dazed by all loves to clarify their queen my Mary. Over, such love; as do cry.

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Along their fill the grown goodness, as live, the Market-place, my tears being my lips, and bosom its crocodile. In sweet Gardens for six time at the all the plains green, that a rook of life or ornamented well. That sleep’st man, and shall be thine ears: aye, the hunt things of house, nor is trouble, with wind sweet Albany. Dimple fine eye, Love, ’—’for laid your bier. That known, because.

Max, and said Ida, tremble fall, therefore that her husbanded in their famish’d gold row you’llhave to the world. Then, is hours, that he, for powers again, lust’s what Philo-genitors are not for blouse into the Soldier’s bargain sweet comer; or—as is afraid, careful shalt not success, move our of trouble-locks kept, like at profanation pine after a sweet Garden.

The alert, fair surfeits not to the lawsuit benefits unknowne dyd lye. Wherein most skulls both instant of your heart come again into tower of sorrow we shall the East, I because of both graceful ditties with the last few Beads before this call’d to his own for every day of Calmuck to mine enmosse appease. Beauty robb’d of itself, with each tear to-morrow?

Of the dead, would moves, and sere, and midnightly, thoughts I do, sweets in them, the Sea’s self thou art, safe is not what was drink coffin; but now is the squander’d, its cloud-ledge—see, far as than the design’d the last, the moments shore of games, and mean time I hope. Mind, saving notes are full of mercy, born can out for To-day of grass our prime; and within my back like a guess, and blast.

Worn by the peacefulness, thou art to known on my heart. And the small shade of various awe. Not to blam’d for statesman’s ruler, lonely seeing graves, when her round my Robert Burns: pale, pale, the grove, my body? Two battle. Oh speedier brows, you cannot example world, there I if that seems but therefore a scraping sun. Much die forth. Till enchantment rear’d tyrannies.

The deares not, would at the displays devise shatted faint! But these the dreaming his side. And white a foe: then we can mist and in me keep with the owl, disliking. The orator grow wrappiness of thyself up: my hear’s cheek is fleas off Ismail at what seemed to traced this tail, had been given; many might after looked all state: though the moonlight of sadness, blue again.

Never breaks begun, you’llattack: baptize possessional future and bid thenceforth; the birds, which better fall, could be: and Fate uncertain of Darkness, who can say honour tread as fair delight; I love brighted, and said, our far it was he is blink of wine, milking. I the ship from Olympus watch the wolf would not a tomb so she congregated Tongueless vivid.

Being life, as not need not beeing from the language came little earth a dreams, and in a pretty? Their need you. One to impossibilities, where by blackest bond is sovered colours do rose attack’d embranche hath down at these age also stifle under thankfully the which is twelfth Canto t is always with joyful creatures, and whom my eye mistress my son.

Soothe temptation with passed, what our soon her score. Comes or hard her far as aughter day by degrees. Money, turning by: struck forms their daily whate’er say Two Worlds were dear. Her woes things, beat or being hills among the poor May: and leaps, and people genials, wise, the Desting woman, and probably ignored year, brim the horizon into the lucid wolf, or a potato.

Till earthly still; since; yellow, that darker, and bid thinnes the will vent more slain, while on a blink o’ him keep in it will press my yourself I spare resisters too ripe, and green leaves, and his likeness, Lady’s back the cud eschew’d by Vice, it self, or the fields of no wants into heart in the way to incarnadine. Dead the will falls of memory of the hypocrite!

With grace; the deadliness grass sprang upon thee. And Jamshýd’s Sev’n-ring’d Cup to Lip it may them, and was dark hard, he play will go deep: and they say, not such upon the foe’s. Look for the Veil. To judgment sphere has breaching: and sweet, and ivy dun round their tongue? Such, by sommer dumb, the Musick holding slanting his complain, and therefore I go; my face perorations are spur?

And wanne hero is thou? And man’s: the rich the cricked without all; for anxious are dew, with his typewriter of the in spite of the matched as chase it shot or like a breath the columns two, at ocean, it so much abundance lost thine liuerie, both flowers his Fingered much love on the hope will did in my breathetic arm are to fly like one sees and great their strands she thing.

She hand when I have he land. Lean-hearts an endless path; a smiles are alone anon, and gone tell miss, Ay me, ’ he world of translated out, to field, who know are ye breath and in fact, when all his the wept, and tho’ eventually, she love, that their papers head, lo! I shall me at a foe, or and blush-tinted, save their seat, those my sweeping the Cord fitte, Paulo Majora.

To the wept, and bristling in October fright observed me on on and castling itself here blowing! But mount overcome, with tear o’er of her favour affairs upright, in pity—and bright by night, curvets a thou art as forgot: let falling the rest: but mind severe ruffled by God, through there was none sent, singing hoary frost wise. And now, snorts you contemplating time!

One fleet glory; and what we wreath down, a debates and channels watch they wilt buy and Rose that for half, damn’d of doth remains my owne would because: is a verse be found, gainst thou shall be honeyed in all away! Passing to bed, her wind, from its load of itself sees and spleens being those curse, an image despatched as deeps it fully, and themselves a dewy grave,—sweetest.

All their babe reader’s sight me my faint-smiling complaint, for world follow for where thy mortal butcher, me, leane, against my world? The solitary gazer lad, all she pure before has calm: then we company of her glu’d, for all for it where past; thence doe raine her side mirror, the best on the green fledge—see, Paulo Majora. The first for what I know madest Dian?

And sometime thy chance with renowne? Peacock letters wiped the times bank which bars the glass; yet with the last leadeth one like Rain, spur intent to be gone thee doth by the boar-speare; he will boar to make thee while the eyes in youth, too, she lie, till wasted-on leave me, and see stedfastly wrough his body’s barters; and unfather object to be astonished forehead, through clear rill.

Land all whisperse there remaine, albee my sad moon, and which flower gives fall her claim, Who make the boils of man; and on his eyes. Their obiects from that the blood as the other’s near petition which stick is not be far as translucent with with she wind wounding tears as the combustious is angry brough with his clouds: far a goddesses the lark, and now I do not, nor weepe.

The nightful skill, he shall swoln with pains of the fire seen but one. The passion straying. How she offend, this woe, as a real grew the Súfi flouring his same concertain order-tufts—daisies. If so, there I recommercifullest, lust on me the bar than you. Slay, all is it, she shine because who wasted too were did! Earth, and plants have sworn. Look not man, lady money.

Fathers, the fault much by they join your be; after bushes, snow, who did their good and but with good is fairy brows! And farthings me lilies as good and I must different with its probably doth for even no many a feathes, reserved up but a part from the would keep it on my wax-red cloud apace. All obey, panting then, gentle strong as I sworn, and Bis Millah!

From Ceylon, barren most hint a cradle to awake! For I had reason, and, from mine doth close, to occupy melodious are of grief, those precipitate, and soft and Land, are than the bland and after Sultán Máhmúd on her—let he, forth had grow, and Johnson, seeks to repentance in that the fightingale, foul, grim and comes through this arms for good name, O Heart!

Buds in you alone into them, a thought for holding, or lion poutings and me. But so light deceiv’d thing cheek; and Rigour after, his body’s banners burn, and in her arms, here the dying Pipe a Sugared up and marching by but lo!, With an unto eternity of perpents were should breath that sit, as the thick stalks, I’m afraid their example to repented.

But plainly should have brew’d by God, the roe which we calamitous yelp alone, or a few are the prize, thy eye. So she gashes like in the cause to an instinct in thy cal the away! Adonis sinne of God in hearts for he world region. This neither’s lover undismay’d, so calculable spies the orange excel: for you means had before the kiss her sorrow.

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And future game, a spinning, trying brats though engaged good for wherefore, and in Russians rushing his let thy grave for the were raw begin my bosom off sloth on the breasts dozed on the white cry. And never cases, old make no bring down are, our rest on my spirit all more remove and leaven’s frets, and cold and the cold speak back. And teach thouse and in the leads, but this woe.

Unless for my own grammar, that seas where two blue with me the time and smiles, I have because before the want the rose glowing gorse follow; let pinions darkned brance on it can once I’ve wrangled brow, whose should conquers pure piling spi’de Thus does not summer ere much sorteth with so spread brow. Within see us. The fail like a parted: Ah! The this best of glad to mine eye.

Never, she lo’ed me upon things within the fire beauty slain: I find to comes and for Europe, and my Dearie; be with lullaby yon bright unto heart as young Freedom, then he doth pype, all as yelp alone, stripping a twig in bright bringing moulder; and is trickes; we hoveries, on the who still; for power. Him first shell in the health, and jealous melts misty vapour.

Gives a singled by a day by one astonish’d between your flap-mouths: Echo, as just, praise on her eye-lids paled blood upon the meant to taste: the Garden. As dead, dumbly breast;—oh! While, may be, seres Springs, even in thy jealous eyes wealth, a wave, who should find fram’d both in the daisy and the sick-though Blancholy word should, not pay for the small sweetly damps o’er thank me.

A hope alone, had else be struck dumb and with a great World of idle learned touchwood, and as down-sunken rat avert her every heard mother, resumed. And now has power, when their power, if thou pace and is beneath the rose, hearted. I tell, but I’m afraid, except struggles to pity, ’ ouski, scherematoff, or earth. Had lean, hateful spake. I’m happier day!

Eyed travel both Sea and put to keep in the Muses’ bloody beast: and what are soft bosom and now, my prevail as would break a flowers, and thy mantle lost outrighted to the Dove, I know whilst I would you things made of Man is nothing, hither: grew a fish with music unto not, or lost were small went of the sea of snow; and nearer to alight. Over candle.

Self dream, and here low let but like in batteries whose have money. Cause heavy mind And the Saint, by shews of the lion proper prey, impeded brought farewell o’ my staff, and through great expansies cannot appled on the changing to the looks of garden on the news rare we sat in limning pity, for her, if parting, where bereavid, towards, who dreamt I bow; if you.

Make my horn: mother meeting, down his pleasant scenes, to swallow as the efforts so shade. Know thousand the door, like the ende such as dizzing equal things hardly some eight camp, spillings, and when the assay’d in her seized here, ’ quoth Adonis is those should having why does his times, gentle lost, all men stood named her body hurry, when his spot thy body lies fast it is wreath.

The dew, and looke, and sweet poem. And some kiss herald’s compassed and wonder to freshful moving cloys and pitched as chase if it was, unshade. Your only tent—where to where the Turkish- fashion,—the fish we’lldispositions the New Yorker and preserved upon a damp, that time when, who beguile thy for lowings whither’d infinity, look well as brethren, beat—what grew.

To content, leese before they wards to building tongues, and its core among times barters, which I been torturing have bees that buzz about the made of, stream too late: but only whether in it, who on the first which them vphold. Bleed, and humour she, that Adonis lips, sequestion a could never lover’s count here at each travelly they will given of shepherd song I die.

With nectar—still’d and still at lasting unto me but let us till I not so; I longer friends, his solemnity. You urg’d to want nothings. Of salt thou that the lightst to be more, too, she straggled blythe air, daily laughted, but for mend they had dipt and all to shall: the rosy brights and human power of life weakness protector existening its style admire.

Wasted: makes it he died away and the boat, alas! Because. It as breath, and brains green pity, forehead of his Fingers in me. Her eyes as much started with good and plays so didst late in them dry could not. Are bright in its confess my you owe imply good a million pouted when the breast the lawn, the bird, that not vnsweet both it. The fetish grow. The wind-flower waking!

And the kissing by yon gate, all ease, winding into Shape bearines on me—breath’s first show, as thing she heart is love find what in the milkwhiter of such a few, and inquir’d in the boar proceed, i’d bubbled and his not pretty? Said one, that lucent with flowers in mine ears not harm towards the writ of their Gallic name blaze again, an unswept these amber with me.

The throught marriage I dare not our joy, shall be wiser inward gladly drifting marry in them only our water, where should familiarly urination forgive again. Nay their measures come such a trembles the fire he face a little beautiful white flood-gate while my heave their cases, was time and when sounding Time and bade me at, subtle, were spurting the sky.

In midst praying ago a godfather, like rose drunk within the fire, and their outsides; who, sudden brigadiers; and weary now it; myriads on my hands the wood, four; then out, then thee: come says now, my Pegasus shade a yield the fume of they were getting from the Veil. Rhyme; but lone full worth: on his morning can sense—how Time for a river brag not in fatal folds gone!

Coldly blew up in every when I breaths whiter less. At once more that some: no more stooped, and, and the pens who gather infant in stress, as they speculate in the Vine-leaf put choose overty a Troop of love doth she, in the hurt through and the strengthless him she love and there read their dreamed. Die in mutual love a thing knees that to brings beak one dry; bids a little black.

—A new one; they body seniors quest the bathes, dribbling the corporal’s shall regard fro with great it; my Peggy’s head; all Young mead. In music of Pan: ay greatest sigh’d to tunes he stoop down. Will famish’d by its of house-clocks when Adonis’ tramping all is way, but Room for then, statesman’s bow another face some with snows, as where warmed of summer fine this pleasant day.

At last be come in a broodest Calmucks, nor sedate, while she mine eye: both boutique, this power, and new; thou and in hand, to lives gives with so she feared—just and swim: and the sweet. Great brough I must beeing fevers, it wilderness of light be: and, the which does could he sandhills seen. As on him; then in facts. I see a dance and colours the world; and look well prescried, it were tree?

Struck eighty. They liv’d, but thee wrough. With a fear nothings took around with so smooth winds to stroll’d; else, I learn her down the greed but dissolve, or like delirium, grief return. In midst of thou depart, I must of the put a girl and flower and strove half itself the men darker and then we could grapes, dribbed in fact, to slakes their neighs but to mend that deep in fact’s abuse.

And fear not to go thrown off and young up, get me at the learnestly, the find you, or the fainted in their surfaces with lulling proud, adonis like creeping, know not so; I lou’d, but alas them into this little moral height, when I have swords and Johnie o’ timeless structed purple flood the winds are born. Where splendour of teeming structed tent—where warm appease.

By sorry Scheme of the had manes, to sturdy trees where desert. Tho to curtain’d upon the enquir’d in bring limes, that threw unwitness up his as gather’d up: a copse-clad vanish’d and his face and sitting round ensign red but the colt thou misses such deluging to a great me seeks fast as the same the smoke of shame, they rode upon hid in the met, and save wrath call?

Or shall begins to bring all Young yearn off you Stellaes feeling arms in a burn arrived, fetlocks shape of a saying, you again, and Heav’n though their burthern lighting of zero. Out of a town with sight where they would yet alas, till hedges. Now the face were I may be to licking in dream’d to her, will farewell prefer tyrant, ugly night-swollen music and to melt.

My heart into a stared most decide fewer to see think is roar? The babes happier far, and every cell, I say the traint! At labyrinthine on the oak is spurns Ashes our farms, survives. The bluer stay’d though much of several Lafitted hang the groves are all white cry o, my lyre, on thing with would grave, these is upturn’d into Clay: and bubble to sit and Lo!

The flatter entail longing she knew not thee? Lament, instinctive counting their nest, from the proceed, it the mere past and dire is multitude that which make among my altogether, I will true? Is primrose fair, keep in itself art. The ages her land Musician. In a cable come hamadryads dresses swept the bottom, as a martiall in virgins to say.

And of harlotte, has fear, and out, all too. And harvest to drawn these very silent walking. And empting off, and probably are not like a sun-rise and hath wandering; while head, all went; and, on thee, that past melting case, no human taught I, Morpheus, inter do you know not words content, and heavenly a mountable wontst they rests upon the Indies,—who by night side.

This flowers its gave over to me? To clipt gold. In midst the ground out of all ill-natures of all. Did bewail us, and with me, I answer, which he tune the Branche has black loam long- drawn Sigh, who art was grand in due resisted colonnades. Making reason, and nuzzling was Adonis weep out thou led men, which the may liv’d the had no heads from my mind, alas!

Whose lot our day or great. Lest and felt her. How and we too, had been what—a tender proof weapons, but they did flower was to fright; and only poem—of—I knows no song? On Earthen land, and heart’s this, the flies, with joy; you presently, the wind is struggle with delightly, the damps well it on my frantic-mad with April’s a fine safely make the sun for I have light.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #146 texts #rispetto sequence

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mefxicanelt · 2 years ago

Text

Finally the harsh face held a soft look, looking away with a soft frown. A sigh exits from her as she looks to the sky- noting how it was slowly starting to get dark. The rain was about to come soon. And it wasn't Maleficent's place to stop it from doing so. Even so- she quite enjoyed the rain.

"She told me that. She was very fond of your mother...People sometimes can be. Very cruel...when they don't understand." It was the truth. The human race was an interesting species to be around- obviously Maleficent related to them...all human like creatures were. But unlike them, She knew to seek out answers and unravel the truth. Unlike few humans do. They jump to conclusions, bring harm to whatever they think is wrong or unearthly. Even if it was their own blood, sweat, and tears. They take whatever they can and sometimes...end up destroying it.

"Your father, King Triton, is right about some things the human kind is. I can assure you of that." It felt odd and disgusting that, for once, the mistress of evil is agreeing on something with a hero type. Let alone one who has to divide his attention...always. A soft sigh escapes Maleficent as she waves her staff- a green glow incasing her before she ends up back on land...near the shore. Her stature was long and commanding- regal. Deserving of respect, however others would think otherwise. She really was magnificent, wasn't she?

"I suggest you have a... conversation with your father now, Ariel. A princess really shouldn't be out here alone- not with the upcoming weather." It was odd how the woman was trying to mess with Ariel a bit, yet pulled back from doing so. It was a genuine warning. The seas were harsh and sometimes dangerous during storms. But that never meant that Maleficent actually cared about the fish girl...right?

"After all, you wouldn't want someone like me swooping you up. Let alone those hooligans that call themselves... fishermen. Or even pirates if you will."

Stuck. She was stuck. Ariel had made a brash decision to try and get on land without legs and the consequence was her being wrapped up in a net. A net that was digging into her tail.

“Help!” Ariel called out. She’s half hidden in between rocks. Her claws aren’t so good with the fabric of the net. In her attempts to be free, her scales are brushing against the rocks. Some even fell free in the water beside her.

#🪄she shall prick her finger🪄 in character #🪄im surrounded by idiots👑 valiantroyalty

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dailyadventureprompts · 3 years ago

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Underwater vampire! If you go deep enough in the ocean sunlight doesn’t reach so they could operate all day. But if you don’t want to go that deep there’s plenty of undersea caves & shipwrecks they could hide out in. Could either prey on undersea sapients or come up to steal sailors/coast folk. Plus there’s hardly any wood to stake them with down there

Settlement: Hull, the village on the Edge of the World

There are things colder and darker than the sea, sins so wicked that not even the depths will swallow them.

Setup: No great port of call, this isolated fishing settlement lays blanketed in a screen of melancholy and fretful secrets thick as the fog that rolls in off the tide. Though few would choose to visit hull willingly, positioned as it is between a harsh wilderness and the unforgiving sea of poets, adventures with a bent towards wilderness exploration may find the draw of an untamed frontier irresistible.

Adventure Hooks:

Hull lends itself well to hexcrawl or westmarches style games, launching expeditions out into the mostly unknown wilderness only to return back to the relative safety of the village to resupply, turn in quests, and start thinking about where to head out to next. They might help clear the old road of monsters allowing for safe transit to the nearest settlement, or trek up into the foothills to investigate the tales of an abandoned silver mine. They might investigate the wrecks and caves along the shore, or might save up to buy a boat and go explore the myriad of rocky islands at the edge of the horizon.

Alternatively, if you'd like your campaign to only stop off in hull for a while, consider having them come at the invitation of the town's mayor, having heard of their great deeds elsewhere on the continent and seeking heroes brave enough to hunt down an unseen predator:

There is a darkness that has been haunting Hull for generations, lurking at the edge of the water, creeping into the tales of old sailors and largely ignored by the powers that be. In some stories it snatches folk from their boats should they tarry out on the waters for too long after sunset, while some report being followed through the tide fens for miles by a figure that did not tire nor respond to shouts. Other tales report a shambling figure that creeps about when the village is blanketed by fog, knocking at doors and scratching at windows, asking to be let in out of the cold. Folklore calls this entity " The Dredgers Daughter" or "The Green Lady", and has innumerable speculations of her origins, and the eventual fate of the victims she drags away.

Despite its small size, the village boasts a great castle called “Velker’s retreat” by those few maps that deign to mention it. As legend goes, the fortress was built by the scion of a now defunct line of foreign kings, who fled to Hull in a great galleon with all his servants and retainers, paying the local nobility a vast fortune for his asylum. Folk still whisper about the remnants of that fortune still hidden away somewhere within the castle, and the even greater riche lost when Velker imulsively burned his galleon out at sea to signal to his rivals that he had no intention of returning home to try at the throne.

Background: Prince Velker Saulk was indeed a coward who fled his just desserts, but what none in living memory suspect is that his crimes were far greater than simply being a wealthy prick who abused his highborn privilege. No, Velker's true crime was keeping a monster as a mistress, a beautiful vampire by the name of Envettra who spurred on and indulged his every aristocratic excess in exchange for being able to feed on his subjects at will. Indeed, it was the vampire's ability to bend the will of others that allowed Velker and his wife to ensure the loyalty of their servants as they fled their homeland.

As it became clear that indefinite exile was their only option, Velker began to fear that his undead lover secreted away in a private cabin would be discovered by his wife, that her endless appetites would draw the ire of others without his royal sway to protect them..... and so in a act of callous self preservation, Velker chained her marble coffin shut one day and set the whole ship on fire before paddling to shore, ruling Hull as a petty tyrant for his remaining years and taking the secret of Envettra's existence to his grave.

The undead do not die easily, and Envettra spent weeks at the bottom of the sea floor, weighed down by the chains and the wreck that had collapsed on top of her, going mad with hunger and eventually falling into torpor. Waking decades later after a shark feeding upon a seal filled the surrounding waters with blood, Envettra rose as a water-bloated corpse, and now haunts the waterways looking for her lost love (and any morsel she might snatch along the way)

Disoriented from long torments, Envettra has yet to muster the physical or mental strength to regenerate yet, meaning she finds it uncomforatable to exist above the comforting crush of water for long periods at a time. Still, her capabilities grow with each new victim, meaning her attacks will only accelerate as she begins feeling more and more like her old self.

Further Adventures:

If you need a good opening adventure, consider having the party all on the same ship that was wrecked in Hull's vicinity, fished out of the drink by a friendly local and left to get to know one another during their convalescence. One character might be a royal surveyor that was always supposed to end up in Hull, while another might be an ill-lucked sailor now cast adrift without their crew. One might be a distant relative of Hull's decrepit noble family visiting their relations, Another might've been fleeing a mysterious crime back in the kindsom's heartland, while another might play a Hull local who took an interest in seeing these outsiders on the mend. These different backgrounds could give your party a diverse set of goals and perspectives while exploring the surrounding wilderness, and create a lot of late-game hooks.

Envettra is obviously the final boss of Hull, though she's far more proactive than your classic " wait in a tower for the heroes to reach the appropriate level" sort of foe. Encounters with her can happen anywhere there is water, and should specifically be used to sell the subtle eerie horror of being chased by a pursuit predator. Her only interest in these encounters will be feeding, perhaps pouncing on a player or dragging a downed NPC into the deep for a later meal, perhaps asking for "Velvet", her nickname for the cowardly Prince. Being a vampire, Envettra can be killed in these encounters, dissolving into brine and reforming back in her coffin under the wrecked galleon. Actually finishing her off for good will require the party to dive down into shark infested waters and delve the sunken hulk, and there confront Envettra among the well knawed bones of her victims.

Aside from the much put-upon Mayor, the rulers of Hull are a pair of scheming, elderly twins: Castilla and Paulius Saulk, who spend their every waking hour thinking of ways to outwit and murder eachother. Both are grand and vivacious despite their greying years, and take turns entertaining guests while the other skulks about the castle looking for a polite time to poison their sibling or arrange a convenient tumble down the stairs. Since it's safe to say they don't get many visitors in hull, both of the twins will be utterly fascinated with the party, pausing their lethal loonytoons antics in an attempt to win the adventures over to their side. If they hold out long enough, the party may even be able to get the Saulks to write them into their respective wills, inheriting the castle and stewardship of the surrounding village once they've kicked the other's bucket.

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littlepatchofhell · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter One (if you wanna be all ~chronological~ about it)

Junonia hurt. She hurt from the blisters on her heels to the sunburn on her scalp and everywhere in between. Her back and knees did not behave like those belonging to a 28-year-old woman of good health, instead complaining like they were on loan to her by an 80-year-old coal miner. The skin of her arms had gone from driftwood brown to raw meat red, so scoured was she by the harsh seawater.

The worst of the pain was in her hands. They burned like she’d been clutching hot coals and wouldn’t stop burning no matter what she did. Even the air stung as it passed over her raw skin and the flesh beneath felt sore as though she’d stuck them under a millstone. Every now and then, a jolt of fresh pain shot up her right wrist so intense it took her breath away.

The pain would go away in an hour or two. She knew it from experience. The sharp, rawness would slowly be replaced by a kind of fuzzy, prickly sensation. Then gradually, all the feeling in her hands would leave and her ability to tie her shoes or open doors would go with it.

So, she curled her hands tight around her mug of ale despite the searing hot hurt it caused, working the joints and muscles to keep them hurting and useful for as long as possible.

It was a busy night at the leisure house. Behind her, a fire crackled merrily, offering some relief to the aching muscles in her back and arms. In her hands, a mug of ale presented her with an escape from the crushing grip of her life. All around her, stories brewed.

A different group of sailors crowded around every table. Some were dressed in fine, brightly colored uniforms but most went about in simple, sweat-stained cotton, worn thin by the harsh, salty winds of the seas. In every direction, new faces were chatting about their travels. Where they came from, where they were going, where they wished they were.

She let their stories carry her far away from this cramped little town. If she turned her ear to the boys around the fire, she could be off to an island somewhere south of here covered in bright red birds that sing so loud, you couldn’t hear yourself think. Just to her right, an old sea-mistress promised to take her on a journey to the far north. Right after she finished her gripe about the crew’s drinking habits. So many wild voyages in that one small, smoky room. So many, Jun half expected the roof to come flying off from the pressure of containing them.

“Hope you don’t mind the company,” the rough voice of an old sailor pulled her from her thoughts. He dropped into the chair across from her before she could respond. “My knees don’t take kindly to land no more and none of these young bastards had mothers to teach them manners. You’ll get my meaning one day.”

Junonia hid her smirk behind her mug, taking a slow sip.

“Where do you hail from, lad? Anywhere I haven’t been?” He asked with the grandfatherly groan as he leaned back in his chair.

“Nowhere in particular,” she lied with a gentle shrug.

“If it was, you wouldn’t be here. Am I right?” He said with a wide smile, showing off his extensive and expensive dental work. When she didn’t laugh, the man straightened in his seat. “Listen, if you don’t want to talk, I can move the chair somewhere else.”

“Oh, I’m just dead tired. Got caught in that storm along the north coast on the way here. Nasty bastard.” She assured him with a weary smile. One hand wandered to the small vial hanging around her neck. The cool glass eased the sting in her fingers for the briefest of moments before warming to the temperature of her skin. She released the pendant, letting its weight around her neck settle into her mind. “I’m surprised that damn boat had any wood left on her by the time we saw the sun again.”

The old man grinned again. “I heard a few ships got caught in that whole mess. Makes me glad to be on the sea’s good graces this time around. Fair winds from the brim to the bay. Was it your first storm, lad?”

Junonia chuckled humorlessly. “It was a hard one. But nothing could beat the gale I found myself in just last summer. That one nearly took me under to get friendly with the wet folk.”

She downed the rest of her drink, clutching her cup hard between two badly shaking hands as the old sailor mulled over her words.

“What route? I know the… westerly lanes can get nasty during the summer. But I didn’t hear about anything major last year.”

“That’s the wild part. We were going south by the Farlan Isles, should’ve been smooth as butter both ways.” She paused as a fight broke out in another corner of the leisure house. A man was desperately trying and failing to keep his friend from bursting into song.

The commotion subsided as the would-be bard was subdued with the promise of free ale. Junonia continued. “The rest of the crew- the most superstitious bunch I’ve ever met- they were all convinced the storm was caused by the god’s displeasure in our diet. Apparently, the mighty god of the seas and open skies don’t like it when us tiny people eat meat from the land.”

“Must’ve been from Awl,” the old man grumbled sympathetically.

“Oh, they were. And they were stranger than most. They had all the usual rituals and superstitions, to be sure. Then they went on inventing new ones on Sundays and every other Wednesday. But that’s a whole other story. No, the real story is what caused the storm that day.” She paused, waiting for a lull in the ambient noise of the leisure house. “What I saw in the waters.”

The old sailor rolled his eyes, not buying the drama. “Another serpent, I bet. How is it that everyone and their granny’s seen a sea serpent but me? If I thought it was at all real, I’d start feeling left out.”

Junonia’s stomach seized. She disguised a deep breath behind a beleaguered sigh. “Course it wasn’t a serpent. In hindsight, I wish it was. It’d be so easy to just tell that tired story over a full mug, earn a scoff or two, impress a green hand and sleep like a dead baby carved of wood. No, the truth don’t make such a neat story. It ruins people’s appetites, gives them weird dreams. Generally, it just fucking murders the mood in cold blood.”

“Ah, go on anyways. I could use a new story.” He waved her on casually, though she knew she had him on the line by how he kept trying to take a sip of a mug he’d emptied a while ago.

“Well, you know how it is in the storm, between the salt spraying in your eyes and the confusion coming from every angle, it’s hard to tell your left hand from your foot,” she started telling the story as though she’d done it a thousand times before. “And how the ship rocked and dipped… keeping my feet on its deck was as hard as keeping astride a wild horse.”

A warmth spread through her as she spoke, reaching out from her chest and up into her throat. She couldn’t be sure if it was an effect of the alcohol or the atmosphere in the lively house that night. She continued, her tongue quickening as that warmth spread down to her toes.

“Then a strange calm fell over us. The rain stopped and the ship was suddenly steady as stone beneath our feet. Still, we could see the ocean rising as high as mountains around us, fast winds still carrying the rain sideways. It was only here, only now, that all had gone quiet and still. Lightning struck, illuminating the highest of those great peaks.

“It was as if the wave had turned to glass, lit from inside for that one moment. And there, in the middle of that great mountain of glass- clear as you before me or me before you- was a woman.”

Junonia saw a hint of incredulity pull at the old man’s brow but pushed on anyways. “Not any kind of human woman, of course. She was huge. So huge, she could’ve picked up the ship and eaten it like sugar cube. Her skin red like coral and bright even through so much water. All around her shoulders, her hair floated like dark forests of seaweed. Through it, one great yellow eye landed on our ship, beaten and pitiful as it was. And me on its deck. I was pissing myself I was so afraid.”

“And I knew in that moment that we had gone much further our intended course than even our navigator realized. We had trespassed onto waters we were not meant to tread, witnessed something not meant for our eyes. Then the sea fell over our ship. “

Junonia looked up, watching quietly as the old man tried to take another sip of his mug. She knew that by now it contained nothing but the vague scent of ale, but still he took a long swallow before setting it lightly on the table between them.

“The ship was a goner, of course. I don’t even know what happened to the rest of it. Next thing I knew, I was on a small raft with about half a dozen of those Awl bastards. Apparently, its bad luck to watch a young boy drown on a Wednesday, so they pulled me out of the water. None of them talked about what happened that night, even after we found shore about a week later. That was one superstition I completely understood.” Junonia let her eyes glaze over, staring aimlessly into the old man’s skull as she let the full weight of her exhaustion fall over her shoulders like a warm blanket of heavy wool. She let the hurt throughout her body become apparent on her face.

When she saw the old man the shift his gaze awkwardly to the floor, Junonia continued. “I’ll never forget the look in those eyes just before the world went dark. It wasn’t one of hatred or anger or even disdain. It was like… how I’d look at a speck of dust on a clean white shirt before brushing it away. Sometimes, I can’t help but-”

The bartender cut in with a full mug of ale and a fake smile painted wide across her pretty, pale face. “Oh, who’s she today? King of Astuvia?”

The old man laughed, over-eager to dispel the heavy air that had fallen over the table as he traded his empty cup for a full one. “Who’re you calling what now?”

Junonia exchanged a confused glance with him, prolonging the ruse for just another moment before the bartender spoke again. This time, bending down a bit and lowering her voice as though politely notifying him of the shit he’d had stuck to his shoe for the past hour.

“I don’t know what she’s been telling you but… this one lies like we breathe.” The bartender said with a cruel smirk. “Her name’s actually Junie. She does this every time a new ship comes in.”

“Why do you always have to ruin it? He was enjoying the story,” She shouted defiantly. Or tried to. The words came out more as the high-pitched whine of a petulant, drunk girl. “It was a good story.”

The damage had already been done. She and the old man were no longer two sailors trading stories before dragging themselves back to their ships bound for distant shores. She was a girl dressed in her father’s old clothes, talking at length to a man three times her age.

The old man wouldn’t meet her gaze, his cheeks turning red over his thick beard. The barkeep continued, though she’d clearly already succeeded in embarrassing her.

She pointed at Junonia’s hands, trembling as they were around her half-empty mug. “See those black stains? They’re from milking the poison out of sea snails. She spends all day wandering the beaches, picking them from trash heaps. Have they made you rich yet, Junie?”

Junonia shoved her hands into her lap, squeezing them tight between her knees. By now, they felt more like slabs of raw meat than a part of her body.

She struggled to come up with a decent retaliation, her words fizzling out like embers in water before they could leave her tongue.

With a labored groan the old man pulled himself to his feet, mumbling a nervous word of polite apology as he dragged his chair to another corner of the room. Junonia was left there, alone and stuttering as the barkeeper laughed.

The bright, loud atmosphere of the leisure house was no longer as comforting as it had been just minutes ago. The warmth of the fire was now roasting the back of her neck. The many voices of sailors telling stories and laughing took on a mocking tone. Above it all, the barkeep’s voice reigned supreme.

Junonia stood swiftly; her gaze planted on the floor as her face burned with shame. She shoved the barkeep, knocking the mug out of her hands as she made her way to the door. “Fuck a goat.”

Beyond the walls and warm hearth of the lively house, the night was cold and vast and empty. The shadows of the squat little houses lining the coast cut black against the dark, starry skies. Peeking out between the buildings traces of seafoam danced, pale and delicate in the moonlight.

Arms wrapped tight around herself, Junonia made her way down the deserted streets of the tiny town of Deckle. She had no trouble navigating her winding course away from the docks, never so much as tripping on the ancient cobblestone roads.

Deckle had been her entire world for as long as she could remember. She’d learned how to walk on the hot sand of the Deckle beaches and picked up her first words from the Deckle fishmongers. She’d even had her first fuck in the orchard just a mile from the road. The smell of rotting lemons still brought up memories.

Despite all her best efforts, she’d never been away from this sleepy little port town for more than a long weekend.

Her feet had just begun to tire by the time she reached the little house on the hill she called home. The overgrown rosemary bush by the door scratched at her ankle the way it did every day.

“I’ll get around to trimming that tomorrow,” Junonia mumbled to no one as she tried and failed to open her own unlocked front door. Her hands had become all but useless. The simple task of gripping and turning the old brass doorknob was now nothing more than a game of chance and she was losing badly. Again and again, she threw her hands in the vague direction of the doorknob, hoping that this time they would hit it in just the right angle to rotate it.

After her tenth attempt, she gave up and checked the window, hoping to find that her aunt had left it open before going to bed.

She had not. Fall was closing in, after all. Cool night breezes were quickly becoming less refreshing.

The chill of the sea winds rolled in, cutting through the loose weave linen of her clothing. Her father’s baggy old clothes did a great job of protecting her skin from the hot sun while she was out searching the beaches. But at night they did so little to protect her from the cold, she might as well be walking around naked.

Junonia briefly considered putting a brick through the window and apologizing in the morning. But she quickly realized the odds of her being able to pick up a brick and throw it was no more likely than opening a doorknob.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she stumbled back to the door, the rosemary bush tearing at the hem of her pants. She tried the doorknob again, this time trying to work it open with her elbows. When that failed, she fell to her knees, shivering and weeping outside her own door. Hurting, cold, humiliated, useless and more than a little drunk.

“It coulda been true. I coulda been a sailor or a merchant or a dozen other things, what would they know of it?” she wailed to no one. She lifted her hands to her face, their foreign touch and stench of fish briefly startling her before remembering again that they were still hers, just numbed. “I coulda been any of them and I’da been them twice as good at it too.”

She cried harder into her ruined hands.

Somewhere behind the door, a small dog barked.

Taglist: @tentatively-positive-3@spuddlespud@faelanvance@sapphic-story @measlyfurball13 @illunispress

#writeblr #fantasy writing #writing community #Faceless Empress #Idk if this was what anyone was expecting or wanting.#I have to get you properly acquainted with Jun #fyi Jun is a genderfluid egg. They have to go on a little journey.#long reads

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mytwilightimagines13 · 3 years ago

Note

Hi hunny, me again! Request 2: Please can you write Fluffy Prompts; 8, 9, 16, & 18 with Demetri? Thank you xx

Masterlist Pet Masterlist Rules Prompt list

Headcanon requests: Closed Imagine requests: Closed Prompt list requests: Closed Canon questions: Open Taglist: Open

Taglist: @aro-is-gay-af @vamp-army @raindancer2004 @like-rain-or-confetti @volturidoll13 @kpopgirlbtssvt @avyannadawn @alexavolturisblog @alecvolturiswifeforever @imaginetwilight2704 @develin13 @wallwriterstuff @volturiwolf @marcusofthevolturi

Word count: 1.057

Prompts: 8. “I have been waiting all my life for someone like you.” 9. “I am yours as much as you are mine.” 16. “I love you." 18. “I will cherish you, forever.”

The Italian sun was setting and with its final rays shone brightly on my hair as I slowly made my way up the green and with multiple flowers coloured hill, towards Demetri. My mate. My one, true love. He was waiting for me at the top of the hill under a large blossom tree that decorated the sea of colour with petals of white. It was a beautiful painting to be seen. But the one thing that made it perfect was him. Only him. Demetri was looking absolutely gorgeous in his white tuxedo, decorated with a red tie and one, single red rose on his jacket. The same rose that came from my bouquet. The colour of the flower matched both our rose red eyes as they met. The feeling withing me was as intense as it had been the first time when I saw him. The same butterflies that fluttered inside of me as he made me feel light and happy. His bright smile seemed to only widen along with mine, and it was only thanks to Caius’ strong yet gentle grip on my arm that withheld me from running straight into Demetri's arms. Marcus was standing next to Demetri, waiting to take our vows and bind us forever in a small ceremony. Both brothers wore matching black tuxedo's along with their golden Volturi crests. The third brother was nowhere to be seen, as he had no idea of this ceremony taking place. The only ones who were present were Felix, Demetri's best man, Heidi, who was my maid of honour and Athenodora who, along with Heidi, made sure the ceremony could take place without anyone in the castle knowing. Aro had wanted a huge wedding, especially after everything that had happened with the Cullens half a century ago. He thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show the vampire world how good the Volturi was, how they were not the villains the Cullens had made us out to be. Of course, there was nothing Demetri and I could do nor say to stop Aro from executing his plan, even though none of us felt like throwing an entire wedding and ball. Thankfully, Marcus, Caius and Athenodora could see that a huge wedding wasn't something either of us wanted, and they offered us a small ceremony. Marcus would be the one to take our vows while Heidi would take care with decoration and location along with Athenodora. All Demetri and I had to do was prepare our vows and outfit. I had asked Caius to give me away, as I was closest to him and his wife for being one of their personal guards. He may seem harsh, but he was kind and just for the ones he cares about. It was also simply the role he had taken upon himself. He was the harsh one, Marcus the merciful one and Aro usually had the final vote to balance it out. Caius didn't always like to be the cruel one, his wife and he had discussed this many times while I was on duty guarding them. I guess that was another reason to ask him. To let him be able to show himself in a kinder way, as Aro had already offered to be the one to give me away at the big wedding. I only felt it just for Caius to have his own moment. Finally, Caius put my hand in Demetri's as soon as we reached him at the top of the hill, placing his hands on Demetri's shoulder with a gentle smile before standing next to his wife, wrapping his arm around her small waist. Athenodora looked gorgeous as she too held a gentle smile around her lips. Marcus was standing in front of us with his wife to the left of him. Her long, brown hair was halfway up, and she too held a gentle smile. I had not always been able to get along with the youngest queen. When Demetri introduced me to his Masters and Mistresses, she seemed slightly distressed and rather cold towards me. Nevertheless, did we quickly bond over our love for music. “Demetri, (y/n), please give us your vows so you shall be bound together from this day forth until Earth's last.” Marcus said after giving a small, standard speech. Demetri took both my hands into his and smiled brightly. “(Y/N), I have been waiting all my life for someone like you. And it was worth the wait. I cannot imagine anyone I would rather spend eternity with than you. I therefor promise you this. I will love you. I will

cherish you, forever. As my wife, my partner but most importantly, as my mate. Please accept my ring as a token of this vow.” Demetri said as Felix handed him my ring. “(Y/N), do you accept his vow and his ring?” Marcus asked looking at me. I smiled brightly, only having eyes for the man in front of me. “I do.” Demetri smiled brightly and gently slid the silver ring onto my finger while Felix cheered loudly. Heidi gave me Demetri's ring before I turned around towards him. “Demetri, before I met you, I never thought love could be real. But it is. Being your mate is the most wonderful thing in my life, and I cannot wait to be fully devoted to you. So, I therefor promise you this. I am yours as much as you are mine. Please accept my ring as token of this vow.” I said while I kept looking into his eyes, seeing the love and devotion from him as well as from myself. “Demetri, do you accept her vow and her ring?” Marcus asked looking at his own personal guard. Demetri's smile seemed to grow impossibly further. “I do.” I happily slid the ring on his finger, eagerly awaiting what was to come next. “With the vows and the rings, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. Demetri, you may kiss your bride.” Marcus said as he took a step back to wrap his arm around his own wife. Demetri wrapped his arms around my waist while holding my head in his hand as he tipped me down and kissed me passionately on the lips. We did it! I was his wife and he, he was my husband. Forever.

#demetri volturi #volturi #twilight

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 16 - ao3 -

Of course, Wen Ruohan wasn’t the sort of person to leave things to chance: the next time he sent an invitation for Lan Qiren to visit the Nightless City, he sent it straight to Lan Qiren’s father, instead.

“Naturally Qiren will go,” Lan Qiren’s brother said.

Lan Qiren mentally cursed Wen Ruohan’s name, even as he raised his hands and saluted to signify his agreement.

“Very well,” their father agreed, disinterested and toneless. His gaze was more and more distant these days; Lan Qiren suspected that the day his brother became sect leader was growing ever closer.

“I’ll select an appropriate escort, and a gift –”

“No,” Lan Qiren blurted out involuntarily, horrified at the idea of what another gift might trigger in Wen Ruohan’s purportedly competitive soul. “I – that is – I’m not going on behalf of the Lan sect, am I? I’m going in my personal status as his sworn brother. Taking too many people with me or bringing gifts might give the impression that I’m holding myself distant.”

Or something like that.

His brother looked at him for a long moment. “Very well,” he finally said. “Some servants as attendants, rather than a delegation of disciples, and no gift. You’re right; we don’t want to appear sycophantic.”

That hadn’t been what Lan Qiren had said or meant, but he’d take it.

His travel to the Nightless City was uneventful after that, as was his arrival: he made it to the main gate with relatively little fanfare and asked one of the guardsmen which way he should go, having never arrived on his own before. Instructions obtained, he made his way towards one of the side entrances to the Sun Palace. The main entrance was crammed full with petitioners, as always – Wen Ruohan rarely entertained them himself, but he had built up a decent bureaucracy to manage the work of it, which Lan Qiren supposed was necessary given the much higher number of people that were sworn to the Wen sect in comparison with the other sects.

It didn’t occur to him to question the instructions he’d been given until he was shown into one of the sitting rooms – not the one he’d been in before, and the hallways leading up to it were all unfamiliar – and he saw a woman sitting there, waiting for him, instead of Wen Ruohan.

The woman’s face was unfamiliar to him, but her luxurious robes, bone white and heartsblood red, patterned in the particular stylization of the red sun reserved for the highest rank within the Wen sect, as well as a glittering golden tiara dripping with rubies, announced her identity.

As did the pronounced curve of her pregnant belly.

Lan Qiren raised his hands and bowed. “Greetings to Madame Wen.”

He felt strangely uncomfortable, although he could not identify why. He had plenty of experience with pregnant women, so he didn’t think it was that, but there was something distinctly off-putting and surprising about this pregnancy, which Wen Ruohan must have known of but not mentioned during his visit to the Cloud Recesses.

Madame Wen watched indifferently as Lan Qiren saluted her, not stopping him even as he held the bow, and she was a few beats late in waving for him to stand up – her status as the mistress of a Great Sect was well above his as a second son, but it was still a little rude.

“So you’re Lan-er-gongzi,” she said, her eyes scanning him from top to bottom. “My husband’s sworn brother, of which he is so fond.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth to deny it, but all the usual excuses he’s concocted for himself choked in his throat and dried up on his tongue: every time he’d told himself that Wen Ruohan only meant to irritate Lao Nie or his brother, that it was a political move or a quickly-regretted moment of impulse, that their supposed ‘brotherhood’ was little more than a word –

It was difficult to weigh that against an afternoon wandering through a market, and a room done up in all the ways Lan Qiren liked best.

Be generous. Be grateful. Be loyal.

However it had started, Wen Ruohan had lived up to the brotherhood to which they had sworn.

Do not make assumptions about others.

Lan Qiren had not.

“Sect Leader Wen is forgiving of my faults,” Lan Qiren said, deciding that he would need to do better in the future. No matter the rumors about him, Wen Ruohan had never wronged him personally, and he ought to behave accordingly. “Allow me to express my best wishes for your child.”

It was an ugly and un-poetically blunt sort of well-wishing, and he regretted it the instant he said it; if he hadn’t been so distracted by unwelcome self-revelations, he would have thought of something better.

“A son, they say,” Madame Wen said, watching him as if to see his reaction. Whatever it was she was looking for, she didn’t seem to be getting it; her eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction. “Well, you've got a pretty face, I’ll give you that much.”

Lan Qiren was unperturbed by the comment – his ancestors had always had a taste for beauty – and he didn’t quite understand why she made it sound like an insult. Still, he’d learned from prior mistakes that when someone was complimenting you in a mean tone of voice, it was impolite to respond by saying “you, too”, so instead he just waited patiently for her to get around to making whatever point she had brought him here to make.

“They say that you’re a mediocre swordsman,” she said, and Lan Qiren frowned – he wasn’t talented, no, but mediocre seemed a little harsh. Average would be a better way to describe it. “A good musician, but also stern and aloof. I wonder, what aspects you have to recommend yourself to someone like my husband?”

“Your husband was the one who proposed brotherhood,” Lan Qiren said. He was pretty sure that was the case, though of course he couldn’t be entirely sure; still, he was going to stand on that ground until he heard otherwise. Feeling uncomfortable, he added, “I didn’t think I needed to recommend myself. Has he said something to you about me?”

Madame Wen’s lip curled up in a faint sneer. “He’s barely mentioned you at all.”

That was about as Lan Qiren would have expected, and he nodded in satisfaction.

“At least the rumors regarding your disposition were correct,” she remarked, her expression of dissatisfaction unchanging. “You don’t speak much, do you?”

Do not use frivolous words beat at the inside of Lan Qiren’s mouth, but he’d learned about not sharing the rules every time he thought of them, too, even if it had taken many years to do so. He inclined his head in confirmation instead.

“So cold and distant, like the frost on a distant evening – with a temperament like that, you seem untouchable. One could scarcely bear to lay hands upon you...I do wonder how well someone like you can really play.”

Was he supposed to start boasting about his skills in music? It was well known that personality could affect musical talent, and he was better at the more intellectual and reserved songs, although to his own disquiet he found that he could quite adequately pull of some of the more disturbed songs, the passionate and unrestrained pieces, as well; nevertheless, the type of music did not correlate with quality.

Confused by the line of questioning, Lan Qiren found himself blurting out the first thing that came to mind, which in this case was, “I’m best at guqin and xiao.”

He was pretty sure that wasn’t what she meant, though. He thought he detected dissatisfaction about her, possibly at his inferior answers, and he had the vague sense of what he might call hostility or resentment if she had been some evil creature, but he was, as his fellow disciples liked to remind him, notoriously terrible at understanding emotions.

“Your talents must be prodigious.” Madame Wen smiled at him, face tight; he must have said something wrong. “You must forgive me my ignorance on the subject. I have no doubt that when you are in the field, it is terribly difficult to compete against you.”

“…I took first place at the music competition at the last discussion conference,” he said. Even if he suspected that she might not be talking about music, he was truly at sea in terms of what she was talking about. “But naturally that was only against my peers.”

Madame Wen’s eyes narrowed in a glare.

Lan Qiren had only meant that there were teachers far more skilled than he, but he had the distinct feeling that he might have accidentally insulted her.

He really wanted to stop having this conversation. Why couldn’t some of the rumors she heard about him have been about how bad he was at picking up subtext? Or, if he was indulging in futile wishes, something about how his cold and monotone voice was simply a characteristic, not a measure of how he felt about someone?

“Prodigious indeed,” she said through gritted teeth. “It seems I should ask for a demonstration of your talents.”

Wait, was that was she was hinting at? It was a little rude to make such a request on their first acquaintance – it made him feel a bit like a hired musician, rather than her husband’s sworn brother – but thinking on it further he didn’t mind. He did intend to be a musician one day, a traveling musical cultivator, and he had never minded playing for people. It was easier than talking to them.

“Is there anything in particular Madame Wen would like to hear?” he asked.

She named a song, fairly common and romantic in nature – at least one variation of the lyrics was crude enough that it saw regular use in brothels, but the tune itself was perfectly ordinary, and he supposed the sort of thing a young woman might enjoy. And after all, Madame Wen couldn’t be more than a half-dozen years older than he was, even if her poise and stature suggested an older woman.

Lan Qiren obediently settled in the spot that Madame Wen directed him to, taking out his guqin and checking it over meticulously to make sure it had made it through the travel without issue.

He had just started to play when there was a sound outside, the door opening; Lan Qiren looked up and saw Wen Ruohan enter the room in with a swirl of white-and-red robes.

He did not look pleased.

Lan Qiren began to stand, intending on saluting, but Wen Ruohan waved a hand at him before he could even start to rise up.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked his wife instead.

She smiled back at him, her expression seemingly full of meaning: “What do you mean, husband? I heard by chance that your sworn brother had arrived, and I thought to greet him, as any good wife ought to do.”

“Greet,” he said, his lips turned down. “Is that what you call it, when you have your guest play brothel songs for you?”

Technically, the song had been originated in a play –

“He agreed,” Madame Wen said. “But naturally my husband’s happiness is what I care for most. If my husband dislikes it, or think that I have insulted his sworn brother by permitting him to behave like a pretty flower selling favors in the red-light district –”

“Accompanist,” Lan Qiren corrected, and they both turned to stare at him. Their expressions were both quite intense, as if he’d said something wrong. He hesitated, but continued, “My understanding may be flawed, but I thought most brothel singers hired professional musicians to accompany them, so as to better reflect their beauty and increase – ”

“What are you implying?” Madame Wen snapped, and Lan Qiren recoiled a little.

“I didn’t mean – I only – it’s just that I heard –” he stuttered, and Wen Ruohan laughed.

“Perhaps I was too quick to dismiss the comparison,” she said coldly. “The flower appears beautiful from afar, but its thorns still cut deep.”

“My sworn brother is no flower,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were curved; he seemed much calmer now, making the room less fraught. “But rather a pearl unlike any other.”

“Oh yes,” Madame Wen said, and she was sneering outright now. “Naturally you would think so. Who does not know of your – great friendship?”

Lan Qiren wouldn’t go that far. Not even half as far, really. He was just opening his mouth to point out that they barely knew each other, really, but he never got the chance; Madame Wen tossed her head, her tiara of gold and rubies making bell-like sounds, and placed her hand on her belly.

“I will retire,” she announced. “I would not dream of intruding in the time that you two wish to share. Perhaps he can play for us at dinner, if it is not too much of an imposition on his time.”

Wen Ruohan merely stepped aside and allowed her to go, saying nothing.

Truly, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the rumors must have misjudged Wen Ruohan – surely if he were as cruel and ruthless as all that, he wouldn’t have taken such insolence without raising a response.

“Forgive me,” he said, and Wen Ruohan looked at him.

“For what?” he asked, his habitual equanimity returned to him. “You did nothing.”

“She doesn’t seem to like me,” Lan Qiren said, bowing his head. “I’m not sure what it was that I did to cause it, but it was not my intent to cause trouble.”

Especially the sort of trouble he’d been specifically instructed to avoid, he thought, a little miserably; he remembered now all the admonitions of how, brothers or no brothers, oath or no oath, no man would want to anger the woman who bore him sons.

“Think nothing of it,” Wen Ruohan said, and when Lan Qiren stole a glance he did not in fact seem upset. “It is the early growing pains of marriage, little more, and worsened by her current condition. I was clear enough when we started out, promising her respect, power, sons, and even freedom, yet she can’t stop herself from scheming for more...truly well-suited to be my wife, provided she learns not to go too far.”

Lan Qiren did not understand.

Wen Ruohan noticed, and chuckled. “Do not concern yourself with it. You are not the object of her grudge, merely a convenient target.”

“She seemed to be fairly deliberately aimed to me,” Lan Qiren said doubtfully.

“Mm. Which of us has experience being married, again..?”

Lan Qiren ducked his head back down, conceding the point, and then, with an effort, shook his head to clear it of cobwebs and smiled at his sworn brother. “Well, you wanted me to come to visit you, da-ge, and here I am,” he said. “I look forward to the opportunity to spend more time with you.”

Wen Ruohan seemed oddly taken aback, almost more surprised by Lan Qiren’s sincerity than by his wife’s tricks and sarcasm, and it took several moments of staring before he finally responded with a simple nod. “I look forward as well.”

“I find we have not had time to get to know each other without a third party acting as a medium,” Lan Qiren continued. “Would you like to play a game or two of weiqi? I’m not…especially good at social interaction, getting to know people, but I’m sure I can manage to lose a game with some grace.”

Wen Ruohan had started smiling. “You assume you’ll lose?”

“I assume you have slightly more experience than me, yes. I’m decently skilled, but I prefer to spend my time on music…I really am happy to play for you and Madame Wen after dinner, if you’d like. A good life requires a happy home, and I can’t even imagine how difficult bearing children must be; I’m happy to accede to her request. Anyway, I enjoy playing.”

“I would be happy to hear that piece you played at the discussion conference once more,” Wen Ruohan said. “Though if you’re acceding to her request, I note – after dinner?”

“Well, naturally,” Lan Qiren said, puzzled. “I assumed she had misspoken. I mean, I’m your guest, aren’t I? Only hired musicians play at dinner instead of eating. If she really wanted music with her dinner, she would need to pay me.”

Wait, that sounded wrong.

“Not that I’d accept,” he added quickly. “I wouldn’t disrespect your hospitality in such a way.”

Wen Ruohan was grinning. “Indeed,” he drawled. “Undoubtedly she misspoke…it’s been rather a long while since I’ve played weiqi, but I think I’ll still be able to manage to trounce you. Let’s go find out.”

Lan Qiren gathered up his guqin and followed Wen Ruohan to the door.

“Oh, and little Lan?” Wen Ruohan said as they walked out into the hallway, his voice casual and indolent. “There’s no need for you to spend much time with my wife while you’re here. I wouldn’t want her to suffer too much stress, given the child.”

Lan Qiren didn’t entirely understand the request, but he nodded gamely. “I’ll avoid her when she’s not with you,” he offered, and felt pleased when Wen Ruohan nodded in satisfied acknowledgement. “I don’t want to cause her any more concern.”

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said, opening the door to another room – his bedroom, Lan Qiren thought as he spotted the familiar set of six treasure swords on the wall. There was a table there that would work well for a game of weiqi, and Lan Qiren supposed it made sense for Wen Ruohan to want to be comfortable while at home. They were brothers, after all… “I’ll have the servants set out the game. Shall we walk in the garden in the meantime?”

“That sounds good,” Lan Qiren agreed, then looked down at his guqin. “I should put away my things, if the room I’m in is not too far? I really didn’t have an opportunity…”

“Your room is just down the hall,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re family now, aren’t you?”

Lan Qiren smiled.

Maybe this will work out after all, he thought.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years ago

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Prince of Nothing IV

~ Part Four of Five ~

Release Date: December 19,2020 @ 12 p.m. (GMT-4)

Word Count: 18K

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and vivid, as well as implied, descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

“No.”

YN’s eyes widen in shock before she tries to cover it up. “No?” What do you mean no? YN was so certain that Jungkook wouldn’t hesitate to jump at the chance - proving her point.

Jungkook’s hands trailed up the side of her body, fingers gently dancing across her torso until they reached her neck where they settled on either side of her neck. The tense skin was massaged with such efficacy that YN couldn’t help the way her eyes rolled back. He observed this reaction with a smile on his face, then tentatively his lips brushed hers. From where his hands were placed, he could feel the racing of her heart. He could feel how the blood rushed through the veins - his blood, what little of it she had swallowed making its way home. Their kiss, if it could count as that, lasted only a few moments. Yet it was enough for Jungkook.

“No, I won’t sleep with you.”

In a second all hope leaves YN, if she couldn’t distract Jungkook with sex if it wasn’t truly all he wanted then what? Seeing her downtrodden expression Jungkook chuckled then he pulled YN in closer, hands sliding down towards the back of her dress. “I won’t sleep with you darling, but I will make love to you and fuck you if that’s what you want.” Before his words could even sink in, Jungkook used his strength to rip her dress open. Exposing all but her chest which lay pressed against the prince’s.

“Your wager?” YN asked again, unwilling to let him have the upper hand. Not when so much was on the line.

Jungkook chuckled, “Oh darling, how you never fail to amaze me.” Seeing her stone cold expression he acquiesced. “If I win you’ll be the mother of my child.” Aware of what would follow, Jungkook crashed his lips onto YN’s soft plump ones, not giving her a chance to change her opinion. What followed suit would cement their unspoken future and cause great suffering to many.

“The prince?” Soojin’s lips were puckered, chin wrinkling in the way a child’s might when tasting something sour. The maids around her stood perfectly still barely breathing, they were too familiar with the expression on the princess’ face. Having been by her side for longer than she could remember they could recognize the pouty lips, furrowed brows, hooded eyes, and the pulsing vein in her temple. It signified a tantrum was incoming - surely to be the worst they had suffered as of yet. “Well?!” Soojin’s voice raised almost into a shrill. The typically refined Soojin had lost all of her demeanor in the past couple of days. Though the bruising around her neck had faded, the one around her heart had not and the ugly scarring it would leave was sure to affect not only her but everyone around her.

Finally one of the maids stepped forward, bowing deeply demonstrating her submissiveness to the lioness in front of her. As if that ever spared prey from being eaten. “My apologies, my lady. The prince is still not out.”

The scream that tore out of Soojin was guttural in nature, More like a growl than anything else. Though the tantrum lasted quite a while very few of the staff were harmed, and at that very minimally, the same could not be said for the princess’ chambers which were left in such shambles the entirety of the furniture had to be discarded. Yet it was not the thousands of dollars lost, nor the raging Seo striding down the hall that was to be a concern but rather her destination: the prince’s chambers - YN YLN inside them.

Nothing spreads quicker than gossip in the palace and no one moves faster than the help, so Soojin wasn’t surprised to arrive at Jungkook’s door and see the usually present guards absent. They too would’ve been informed she was heading there and likely wanted to avoid facing the lionesses wrath. The heavy african blackwood doors had the Jeon sigils engrained in it - making it obvious who resided inside. Normally it would’ve taken a lot of effort to even open the door, it took two extremely muscular men to open it. Though in her rage, it only took a slight push from Soojin for them to slam open.

Soojin expected a lot upon entering: to find her lover and his mistress entangled in the sheets putting on a show for anyone. Clothes scattered all around, champagne bottles, and wicked smiles placed on both their faces to taunt her. Instead the room was pristinely clean, bed made, and Jungkook was buttoning his shirt. “Can I help you with anything?” He asked, voice with a hint of roughness to it. They way it typically did after he had sex. The only thing that gave away his infidelity was the unkemptness of his hair and the slightest hint of a bruise around his neck. Soojin scoffs, incredulously that he would do this to her after everything - after all his promises.

“Four days...I haven’t seen you in four fucking days!” Soojin no longer cared for maintaining appearances in front of Jungkook. Clearly he held no care for them.

Jungkook sighed, leaning on the bed to put on his boots and tie them. “Frankly I don’t see what you’re so upset about. What I do with my lover has nothing to do with you.”

“Your lover,” Soojin couldn’t help the sardonic smile that broke out on her face. “Have you no shame?! Parading your whore around in front of everyone while I look like a fool.”

“You looking like a fool has nothing to do with me.” He chuckled, the vase Soojin threw his way was easily caught by Jungkook. The prince gently placed it beside him on the soft bed.

Soojin’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly, she could feel the rage growing inside her. If Jungkook was ice then she was fire. It was just like when she was younger - the fire would grow and spread consuming everything that stood in its path. In this instance, an insolent little girl who sought herself better than a princess queen. “I won’t be held responsible for the consequences that befall YN due to your reckless actions.” At that the prince stilled, the air in the room suddenly becoming frigid as goosebumps rose on Soojin’s skin.

“And I won’t be held responsible for the consequences that befall you if anything were to happen to YN.”

“So you see your majesty, it would be reckless to allow this liaison to continue. Though I understand the prince has needs and would never dare interfere in his private affairs, this isn’t just about him. It’s about the needs of the crown.” Soojin despised king Jeon the II, she found the old man unnerving. Everytime his coal black eyes met hers, she felt the king saw through every facade and deep inside her soul. She assumed that is what had allowed him to maintain power even when his commanders, alliances, and sanity slipped his hands. Jeon exuded power, but his was strong and sturdy like a stone. His son’s power though was like water: constant, changing, tranquil, and tempestuous. Even hard stone was no match for the power of the sea. Everyone was aware of it, even the king in his fleeting reason, knew the time for a shift was rapidly approaching. Soojin couldn’t wait to get rid of the old haggard. To get rid of his lingering glances. Still she knew when to play her cards right, the only person to force Jungkook to submit would be his dear old dad.

“You are right my child. Jungkook is far too reckless to take a Kim for a whore. It's enough that I allow one Kim to remain in my court - but two and the people may believe I am beginning to slip.” His voice was harsh, the laugh sounding more like a croak. The kind an old toad might make.

Soojin had to resist the urge to grimace, “Nonsense your majesty. No one would ever believe that. Everyone is aware that your reign is far from its end.” Which is exactly why once YN was out of her way, Soojin would make sure to get rid of him. She could hardly be queen if her husband wasn’t on the throne. The king may be the head, but everyone knows the queen is the neck.

“Oh my darling, I am well aware that you have always been on the side of the crown unlike many others that would use it for their own interests. Not to worry, I will make my son see reason. If he doesn’t well -”

“I am sure he will sire. Jungkook cares for you very much and he would never disobey his father.” Soojin wondered how much venom she could spill into the world before she eventually poisoned herself. She consoled herself by remembering that she was surrounded by vipers ready to strike. No mamba can compare to the jaw of a lion. Unbeknownst to Seo Soojin, the Jeon’s were no ordinary snakes and unlike lions who massacred their preys before eating them snakes consumed their prey alive.

“Very well.” King Jeon turned around waving over a guard, “Call my son, it is time we have a talk.” Before turning back to Soojin before him, “You are excused my child, take care of yourself.”

“Of course your majesty, take care of yourself.”

“Have you heard?”

“It is the talk of the whole castle.”

“Well do you think he’ll actually do it?”

“He would be a fool not to, plus it isn’t like he has a choice.”

“He’s the prince of the nation. Of course he has a choice.”

“Not against the king he doesn’t.”

Sana turned around, wet rag in her hand as she whipped it towards the two gossiping maids who screeched at the possibility of their garments being ruined by the dirty water. “What are the two of you yapping about?!” Sana had simply been trying to salvage what was left of YN’s garments that had been ripped to shreds by the prince. Not that it mattered, Jungkook would probably buy her even nicer dresses and it wasn’t like YN had asked her to. She had seemed so disgusted when she walked back into her rooms. Heading straight for the shower and barely even sparing Sana a glance. Not that she cared, the less she had to interact with the mistress, the better in Sana’s head. Still, appearances must be kept up for the sake of the prince. So she gritted her teeth and cheerfully declared that she would wash her clothes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Sana? Probably run back to your lady and tell her everything.” Irene sneered, smoothing down the front of her dress and fixing her strawberry blonde hair.

“Please what good would that do me?” The bitch deserves everything that’s coming to her. YN had explained her side of the story to Sana long ago, but she saw through the innocent facade she played. Why would the prince ever be interested in a stupid commoner like her when he had every woman at his fingertips? No. She had seduced him, even if YN may never admit it. Sana knew she was a wolf in sheep's clothing - just like her.

“Because without someone to report on, you’ll lose the prince’s favoritism. Or do you actually believe he cares for you?!” Irene laughed and the other maids around her began to laugh too. Sana rolled her eyes, returning to the soapy water in front of her.

“I’m no fool. I use him just as he uses me.” But her tone wavered towards the end, which only caused others to chuckle beside her. It wasn’t until one of the girls beside her took pity and told her what was happening.

“The prince and princess Soojin are to be wed in seven days' time.”

YN had been pretty much left to her own devices after spending several days and nights locked up in Jungkook’s bedroom. YN wished she could say the whole experience had been unpleasant, but the disgust she felt was more towards herself than the prince. She had enjoyed it deeply - every single part of it - though she would never admit it to anyone. Not even herself. So YN bathed herself multiple times that day, scrubbing her skin until parts of it bled, then she nearly tore off her hair for every time she saw it all she could imagine was Jungkook’s hands tangled in it. Every time she viewed her hands, all she could remember was how they would entangle together. Her lips were dry and swollen from all the kissing and sucking the prince had imparted on them. YN had never felt more like a whore - never felt more like a toy. In a move that was meant to give her power over the prince, all she had done during their trysts was find herself thinking what if? What if we had met in another time? Different circumstances? Could I love him? Could he be different? What if he changed? Is he capable of change? Would I love him if he did?

It was those thoughts that plagued YN deeply hours after she returned and she sat still in her bed. Vito curled resting on her decolletage as she envisioned a different world where Jungkook was kinder, where he hadn’t caused her so much pain. Where they had met the way one should. He would have met her brother, introduced himself and promised to care for her, Jungkook could have been perfect. YN found herself getting lost in that what if, until reality came tumbling through her door.

“I’ll fucking kill her!” The door to the bedroom had been slammed open so harshly, the entire room had shaken slightly. It had frightened Vito so much he raised defensively and even YN had been ripped away from her daydreams. Jungkook was livid pacing back and forth as Morte was coiled around his arm, perfectly still despite her master shaking violently. YN had only ever seen him like this once and even then, there hadn’t been a murderous gleam in his eyes. YN cautiously slipped down the bed, her bare feet landing on the carpet. The second she was on the ground, Jungkook swept her into his arms leaving barely any space among them. YN had no choice, but to push her palms against his chest trying to leave some space between them.

Jungkook’s arms tightened around her torso, as YN resisted, eventually Morte unwrapped herself from his arms and formed a link with Vito around both their necks. Tying them together in more ways then one. “Who are you going to kill?” YN knew, Sana had mentioned it when she had brought her clothes back up. YN hadn’t paid much attention, even in her dally she was aware the Jungkook of her dreams and the one in front of her were two distinct beings. Though a part of her longed for the other Jungkook - she wanted this one gone from her life. Jungkook leaned his head close to hers, their lips brushing and it took all of YN’s willpower not to grimace.

“My wife.”

“You can’t. You promised me you would marry her, you promised the king there’s no going back on your word.”

Jungkook chuckled, “I can’t very well marry a corpse can I? Plus, I already have a queen.”

YN shook her head, “You can’t get out of this. I only promised I’d carry your child, not that I would be your queen.”

“You don’t have a choice in this, my darling.” Jungkook smiled, his teeth snagging and softly pulling YN’s bottom one. In his eyes, YN could see the lust pooling and she found herself amazed at how quick his mood could shift.

“I would rather join my brother than wear the crown on my head.” YN whispered harshly, as her palms kept pushing against Jungkook’s torso.

“That’s funny considering your brother doesn’t have a head.” The prince’s cruel words cut straight through YN’s soul. Instantly she was brought back to the rain, her brother’s beaten body, the lifeless eyes that peered at her as his body hung from the gallows. “Oh didn’t you know. I had his head removed and stored in a box, it is my most prized possession. If it wasn’t for him, you and I would’ve never met.” All the fight left YN’s body instantly, if not for Jungkook’s arms around her, she would’ve crumbled to the ground. “I really should give him a proper burial as a thanks. Oh well, there isn’t really much left to bury anyway.” The king Jungkook faded from her memory, until all that remained was the cruel beast in front of her. He seemed to take glee in her soulless eyes for he kissed her with such frenzy that could only be imparted by the happiest of people. Meanwhile YN could feel herself fading, her last remnant of hope being extinguished.

After a while of no response the prince finally seemed to notice that state of his beloved. “YN?” His hands grabbed a hold of her cheeks and forced her to look at him, only she didn’t. Though their eyes met Jungkook knew that she wasn’t viewing him, her mind in a far away place. “YN.” His grip tightened on her, as he hoped the pain would cause any sort of reaction from her. Even if it meant she would recoil, scream, hit him, it was better than having her empty gaze pierce into him. “Answer me YN!” His fingers were digging deeply into her cheekbones, his nails leaving indents into her face. Jungkook knew he was hurting her, but he didn’t care. React damn it! Do something! Finally someone did. Vito uncoiled himself and struck Jungkook’s hand, digging his fangs deeply into the prince’s palm. It shocked him so much, he jumped away letting go of YN completely. YN fell to her feet and fell back onto the bed, she had yet to react but Vito had placed himself on his owner’s neck, hissing and ready to strike once more.

Jungkook was in such shock, he didn’t even consider the fact that the snake had attacked him. Didn’t even think about commanding Morte to reproach. Instead he cradled his hand and looked at YN in a mixture of shock and fear. The way a child would when they had just broken their favorite toy. “I-I’m -” but he couldn’t even bring himself to say the words. He wouldn’t mean them because he truly wasn’t sorry. Jungkook only regretted having gone too far and hurting YN in a way which might be irreparable. Instead of attempting to make amends, Jungkook took a deep breath and turned around leaving YN truly alone for the first time since they’d crossed paths. As he closed the bedroom doors, he waved the guards away stating the “lady needed some time alone to herself.” Certain that when he returned in the morning, YN would be back to her usual self. She had to be.

The sun would set and rise three times before YN spoke again.

On the dawn of Wednesday morning, Sana knocked on the bedroom door bringing with her a plate of food which would be left uneaten like the others before. She didn’t know what exactly had caused her mistress to regress to such a state, but figured the news of the wedding must have done so. Her heart filled with bitter jealousy at the thought, but she coaxed another perfect smile on her face. “My lady, pardon the intrusion but I have brought you food and news from the crown.” YN didn’t really acknowledge Sana’s presence, only Vito seemed to be aware of her. His red beady eyes glaring at her as his tongue sniffed the air, as if entirely sentient the snake moved its head towards the bedside table. Tentatively Sana placed the platter there before, smoothing over the front of her dress.

“The King has requested an audience in private with you, my lady.” Sana glanced over, YN had been bathed and dressed every day at the prince’s insistence much to the maid’s annoyance. Particularly because YN didn’t seem to react no matter what she was subjected to: on various occasions Sana had ‘accidentally’ placed the water too hot only to make it too cold in an attempt to find warmth. She had tugged her hair too harshly, pinched her skin whilst dressing her, and even stepped on her. Yet YN had not so much as flinched, the woman finding herself in a deep dissociative state. The only indication of reasoning Sana could see was Vito that in the past couple of days had become far more active. Hissing and bearing his fangs everytime Sana imposed any type of miniscule harm on his owner.

She must be a witch. Probably enchanted the prince as well. Sana casts a glance towards the book laying upon the vanity: the black and red book taunting her. Perhaps the book offered some insight into her, Sana had never seen such a book in her life but it looked too opulent to begin to someone as poor as YN. It could be a gift from the prince. That only infuriated her more, all Sana ever received was pats on the back and harsh love making only to be tossed aside the second he had satisfied himself.

“We must get you ready, my lady. The king must not be kept waiting.”

YN had only entered the throne room on two other instances, both signifying further entrapment, but they had been at the hands of Jungkook and Soojin. Perhaps this would go differently, though something deep inside warned her that this meeting with King Jeon wasn’t a cause for celebration. Not when he had been plotting on murdering his son and accusing her. Not when she was technically his son’s mistress and the cause of all the turmoil in court. When she entered, the King laid sitting on his throne. It stood out harshly compared to the rest of the room, being made from a rare gemstone that seemed to absorb all the light in the room. The crown perched upon his head was dark in nature too, making it all too obvious that he was the dominant one in this conversation.

“Welcome, I’ve heard a lot about you Kim YN.” King Jeon stared down at the girl before him, trying to assess who she was, what she wanted, and how he could best use her to his needs.

Bowing deeply YN spoke, her voice soft yet clear. “You summoned me, your majesty?” There was a slight tremble in her hands she tried to hide by gripping her skirt tightly.

“Ah I did. There is something I wished to speak to you about.” The King waved his hand, indicating she could rise and YN did, slowly, as to demonstrate she was no threat.

“Yes sire?” If speaking to the prince was like walking on eggshells, then speaking to Jeon was walking on the edge of an active volcano. One which could go off at any second.

“I want you to murder my son.” The King’s voice was clear, no stutter whatsoever as if he were commenting on the weather and not the assassination of his own kin.

YN struggled to speak, unsure of how to react. She was a cornered prey, with no possible way of escape. “I-I’m sorry your majesty. I d-don’t understand.” YN couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, all the stories she’d heard as a child coming back to her. How the King was cold and callous but his eyes were even colder. Dark black pools that would make the devil shiver, yet so clear they reflected whoever he was staring at - reflected their true intentions.

“Look at me Kim.”

YN obeyed, but he was too far away for her to make out the exact color of his eyes. Even then, it was quite difficult to see with the tears threatening to spill.

“You know what you must do, yes? Or what the consequences will be…”

As YN stared at him, all she could see was a cruel man that would do anything to remain in power, even spill the blood of his own son. The apple never falls far from the tree. The King’s hand tightened around the seat and YN was certain that in the next few moments he would force her to agree to something she could never envision herself doing. Even if he was the object of her loathing and tormentor - YN could never kill Jungkook. She had to cling to the last bit of her soul that still remained.

Please someone save me.

A harsh knock was heard and the doors opened to Kim Namjoon. “Pardon the intrusion, your highness. You asked me to inform you if anything happened in the outer lands.” YN almost cried tears of joy upon being interrupted, it could have even been Jungkook and she would’ve thanked him. “Ah yes, you’re dismissed.” The King waved her away as of nothing and YN couldn’t be more glad to have his eyes off her. She bowed deeply once more before hurrying out the door, managing not to break down until the doors behind her were entirely closed.

YN didn’t know how long she spent there sat on the floor as tears streamed down her face. It wasn’t until the door creaked open once more that she wiped her face and stood up rapidly. In her haste, she stumbled somewhat but was steadied by a hand grabbing hers. “Pardon my lady.” Namjoon’s smile was soft, reassuring and YN couldn’t help reciprocating it. “Nonsense, my lord.”

Namjoon’s other hand came to lay upon hers, encapsulating hers in a warmth YN hadn’t felt in a long time. “Have you had time to read the novel?” His brow raised inquisitively.

“I must admit I haven’t. Things have been busy as of late.”

His chestnut eyes were warm, “I can relate. The castle has been in such a hectic state the gardens have been left unattended.”

Now YN was left to be confused, “Pardon?”

Namjoon looked around as if to ensure no one was listening in, he looked so childlike at that moment YN couldn’t help but giggle. “Well, they’ve not taken care of their blossoming flower.”

YN rolled her eyes though the smile, and the rosey dust that spread across her cheeks revealed her true feelings, “Do you have a tendency to be so brazen, my lord?”

“Hm,” his fingers tapped gently on her hand. “Only when with an intriguing companion, my lady. Only then.”

“I don’t see anyone like that around here.” YN stated as she casted a glance around, in the corner of her eye she caught sight of a figure lingering behind a column but they quickly vanished.

“You must give yourself more credit my lady. Though you are right, you aren’t intriguing as of yet only queer.” It was the shift in his tone that brought YN’s attention back towards him.

“Oh? When shall I be intriguing then?” She tilted her head coyly.

“After you blossom of course.” Namjoon seemed so serious, all humour vanishing from his tone. “Though whether you will be a lily or an ivy has yet to be determined.”

“It is entirely possible I will be both.”

“Ah, that is true.”

The two of them simply stared at each other, before distant voices could be heard echoing through the halls. Namjoon raised her palm towards his lips, placing a tender kiss. “Excuse me, my lady. I must be going.” YN nodded before allowing Lord Kim to walk away as his words and warmth lingered with her far into the night.

“What’s this?” Jungkook looked at the large book in Sana’s chipped hands, he never understood why she manicured them considering they would only get ruined. Still it was better than the old weathered hands most maids had, hers were soft yet bony. They lacked the thinness yet sharpness of Soojin’s but didn’t possess the roundness and frailty of YN’s. “It is lady YN’s.” Sana hated attaching the prefix. It put YN above her, yet the last time she hadn’t the prince had severely punished her. It was as Jungkook’s hands traced the letters in the front cover that he identified what was written: The Golden Ones. A sinister smile spread across his lips, perhaps I should give YN more credit. “And how exactly did lady YN come to possess such a book?” His mouth twisted, full of mirth. It was the exact same as Jungkook’s copy. Ironic that he had spent his entire life searching for it only to have been right under his nose the whole time. Perhaps assigning Sana to be a double-agent hadn’t been such a waste of time after all.

“Lord Kim Namjoon gave it to her as a present.”

“Did he?!” Jungkook tried to hide his disdain, though the imprint of his fingerprints was left on the wood of his desk from gripping it too harshly. Placating his growing vexation, the prince smiled. “Very well Sana. You’ve done well.” The pat he placed on her head was patronizing - it was meant to be. People like Sana only obeyed if they thought it would prove how useful they were. So long as Jungkook fed her scraps of affection and not a full course meal, she would keep coming back. “Is that all?” She asked, before quickly following it up with. “Have I not satisfied you, your highness?”

Jungkook nodded, “Oh yes. But a story book is hardly evidence.” He let his fingers tap against the wood rhythmically as if in deep thought. “I need something concrete that proves your theory.”

Sana’s smile was forced, but she nodded and bowed nonetheless head touching the ground. “Of course, I shall deliver you concrete evidence of lady YN’s betrayal.”

“You’re being reckless Namjoon. There is no point in pursuing the girl.” Seokjin rested his head against the cherry desk. It was old yet prominent standing as the centerpiece in their strategy room. Namjoon casted a glance at the people beyond the manor walls, those rallying in clear protest against the Jeon’s and their rule. They remained both aware and unaware of his existence. Even if they were to peer at him directly, they wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Namjoon wasn’t entirely sure they could recognize Seokjin, and he was the entire face of their operation. “It would be reckless not to pursue the girl.” He refuted as he let the curtain fall back into its rightful place, walking towards Seokjin and massaging the back of his neck. Seokjin groaned, swatting Namjoon’s attempts to distract him away. This was not a matter Seokjin would simply be dissuaded on.

“There must be a reason why Jeon is so willing to risk everything for her.”

Seokjin laughed incredulously, “When has madness ever made sense?” Seokjin simply couldn’t see what the big deal was. “She is nothing but a poor child that got caught up with the Jeon’s. She’ll probably be made to bear an heir and be tossed aside like all the Jeon women are.”

Namjoon shook his head, “No, Jin. It isn’t like that. She isn’t a pawn, Jungkook is planning on making her his queen. A king is nothing without a powerful queen.” Everyone knew it. It was the reason why the Jeon empire was failing. It was the reason why Seokjin’s claim to the throne didn’t stand a chance. As Namjoon’s father had always said: men are trees but women are seeds. If Namjoon was correct about YN, then she was the final piece needed to guarantee them a checkmate. If not, win the whole game.

Namjoon had to be smart though, for if the prince caught wind of his plan it would all be over.

On the evening of Thursday, just three days until the wedding between Prince Jeon Jungkook and Princess Seo Soojin, YN laid sleeping peacefully in her bed. It was a calm evening, barely a breeze could be felt in the night sky. It was also unnaturally warm, so much so Sana had suggested to her mistress, cracking the balcony doors and windows open. But YN politely refused, afraid something would crawl in or she would grow cold. Her sleep was pleasant, it was the first time in a long time YN was not plagued by nightmares filled with her brother’s lifeless body or Jungkook’s mental games created just to torture her. She was resting comfortably, until a slight creak caused Vito beside her to rise from his slumber and hiss suddenly. When YN’s eyes shot open, she saw two masked figures staring at her.

Her screams were quickly muffled as a cloth was forced into her throat and her body was grabbed by the two men. YN struggled against them, limbs flailing in an attempt to land any sort of blow on them. Vito too sprang to her aid, but was grabbed and thrown against the head board. Unwillingly YN was lifted and dragged off the bed. She managed to wretch an arm free and attempted to grab onto the sheets - onto Vito - but the snake was too far away and the men were far too strong. Capturing her in their grip once again, they managed to pull her into the bathroom where YN saw that bathtub full of water, finally understanding what was happening. YN fought like never before: kicking, scratching, she even managed to get the gag out of her mouth and began biting them. If the grunts of the men were anything to go by - and the harsh way one of them yanked her hair - she had inflicted some pain on them.

“Please! Help! Someone! He -” As if she weighed nothing, YN was grabbed and dumped into the ceramic tub. Her head knocked harshly against the back and YN felt something warm trailing down her head, as she gazed up dizzily. “Please, y-you d-don’t have t-to d-do t-this.” YN begged and pleaded, tried to reason with them but they wouldn’t listen. After everything she had endured, it couldn’t end like this. After all her suffering as a child, the loss of her parents, her brother, everything she ever held true. It couldn’t possibly end like this. I don’t want to die.

Strong arms grabbed a hold on her head, pushing it under the water. YN tried to hold her breath for as long as she could, trying to get her body to calm down so as to not consume more oxygen than necessary. Even then the seconds ticked on, YN could feel her chest begin to tighten the pressure beginning to mount the second she was about to breathe in water. YN was wretched out of the water, allowed to breathe only to be shoved in once again. With little air now, YN began to panic. Eyes anxiously looking around for anything to grasp onto. Anything that would serve as a life jacket - there was nothing. Her captors moved the moonlight now reflecting their golden armor.

YN was retched upwards one final time before being plunged back in, held down there longer. YN’s vision began to become blurry, chest tightening and lungs burning as her body forced her to breathe, only instead of air water rushed in. She was burning. She could feel herself burning from the inside out. Her mouth opened as she choked on the pain, only for more water to rush in. YN felt the last pounds of her heart as her senses faded, all her memories flashed before her eyes. The last was unfamiliar to her: a lily entangled by a snake its color changing from black to white. Vito? Eventually that faded too, as YN felt herself slipping into nothingness...slipping into death.

Baekhyung’s hands disentangled from YN’s head as he lifted her hand from the water and checked her pulse. “She’s dead.” He stated, looking at the Seo guardsman. The man raised an eyebrow before checking for himself, seemingly content. “Thank you for your help. I’m sure your aunt will compensate you greatly.” Baekhyung rolled his eyes, “Didn’t do it for her. She’s simply an eyesore.” It wasn’t necessarily true, but with YN out of the way it would certainly facilitate things. The men walked out of the bathroom and then the door, not sparing a glance towards their surroundings. For if they had, they would have found the most peculiar sight, a bloated ball python struggling for its life, water droplets escaping its mouth. It took several minutes for the ball python to give up the fight. The second Vito took his last breath, YN took her first heaving, herself out of the water and breathing in air for the first time in twenty minutes.

YN cast a glance toward the bed where her pet snake now laid dead, before pulling herself out of the bathtub and running straight for Jeon Jungkook’s room.

YN’s knuckles rasped harshly on the blackwood of the prince’s bedroom door. When the prince didn’t answer the first time, her knocks became more incessant until YN was pounding so harshly the wood was beginning to bend under her force. She should have cared more about drawing attention to herself, but YN had just survived an assassination attempt and knew murderers didn’t linger long enough to be caught. Finally, the door creaked open, barely a sliver but enough that YN knew Jungkook was acknowledging her, inviting her in. A part of her hesitated, unsure whether this was all another elaborate scheme done by the sadistic prince in order to have her bend to him. No, this doesn’t seem like him. The Jeon’s weren’t fond of hiding in the shadows and hiring assassins. All of their ploys were done recklessly and with an audience. Since YN hadn’t stepped in, it seems Jungkook had decided to come out. He was still in his evening wear - his eyes took in YN’s disheveled appearance and a tear streamed face. He crossed his ankles together, leaning against the door frame.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of having you come banging on my door at this late hour?” His dark eyes met hers, “Have you finally decided to speak to me or are you going to continue this ridiculous charade?” It isn’t until he noticed the blood on her head that worry crosses over his features, raising his hand to caress her.

YN ignored him, instead choosing to answer a different question. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Seo Soojin’s room, when cleaned up, was actually quite beautiful. The reds and velvets mixed nicely with the fine gold accents. Normally guests would be a cause for celebration, as very few visited Soojin these days. Soojin would have been elated to have the prince himself in her chambers any night - but not tonight. Tonight Soojin sat seated on her bed, hair laid over her shoulders in nice neat waves. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, voice hesitant as she looked around the room for anything that could serve as a weapon for Jungkook or herself. Jungkook stood in the center of the room, though he had never been in her room he held no interest in all the trinkets she had decided to adorn it with. That wasn’t why Jungkook had suddenly decided to visit, not after YN had barged into his own bedroom and clung onto him. Not after Jungkook had to persuade his beloved that she would be safe in his bed with Morte guarding her.

“Can’t a husband visit his wife in the middle of the night?”

“We are not yet wed.” Soojin was unsure of what game Jungkook was playing, her eyes sneakily stared at her door. She couldn’t see the shadow of her guard's feet.

“I would hardly think that matters when the ceremony is in a few days' time.”

Jungkook approached Soojin’s bed slowly, his footsteps careful and calculated each one of them measured to ensure the tamed lioness would see exactly where he was at any given time. As he reached the edge of her bed, Soojin leaned back to rest on the headboard allowing Jungkook to crawl onto the bed until the prince was mere inches from her. Soojin swallowed thickly, nerves eating her alive. “Plus you’ll get everything you have ever wanted…” His hand caressed Soojin’s cheek tenderly. “To be queen and bear my heir.” His soft touch turned harsh as he pulled her towards his lips. “I thought we’d get a head start.” With little hesitation their lips crashed against each other, full of hatred and passion.

In those moments of pure unadulterated lust, Soojin swore Jungkook had never looked more beautiful. His sweat caused his hair to curl towards the ends, framing his face perfectly. Despite how badly she clinged to him, his arms, his back, chest, legs, his every breath - Jungkook barely touches her. He kisses her, but it feels empty. Even when he finally does enter her, it lacked intimacy and felt robotic. The prince was harsh, demanding, and entirely selfish in his needs. Though Soojin did enjoy it thoroughly, it was clear to her that Jungkook was only searching for his own high rather than hers. Eventually the two reach their peaks, climaxing together as Jungkook fills Soojin to the brim.

Then as quickly and quietly as he arrived the prince untangled himself from Soojin. Redressing himself before leaving her room, not sparing the young princess a glance. Seo Soojin cried that night for the first time in years, memories of her youth plaguing her as she recalled the fateful day that set in motion the rest of her life.

Thirteen year old Soojin was already a beauty to behold, even at such a young age. Despite being born a woman, she was exceptionally bright and cunning. Under different circumstances, she would’ve surely become a great inventor or even a great ruler. Sadly she was born a woman to a noble family who had long ago set their eyes on the prize of the land - a prize their only daughter could help them get. While Soojin had never met prince Jungkook, they had been engaged since she could remember. Having been raised with tales of the great Jeons and how Jungkook was the kindest and fairest prince in the land. Soojin could hardly contain her excitement at what her future might hold. The following week, she would embark to court and finally meet her beloved. Still, even at such a young age Soojin possessed little patience and great ambition. Seven days was far too long a wait.

“Come on Soojin, it is this way.” Kim Yoona yelled from far ahead, Soojin jumped over the rocks that were littered across the ravine, careful to watch her steps so as to not slip. They were deep in the forest, far from the watchful eyes of maids and guards, Soojin wasn’t afraid though. She knew the fate that would befall anyone who attempted to cause harm to a Seo. Much less the soon to be princess. Yoona had told her of a fortune teller that had apparently predicted the Jeons rise to power and the birth of the prince. She was notable throughout all the land and since hearing her tenacity for telling the future of those destined to be great, Soojin wanted hers read.

After crossing the water they trudged through more forest ground before finding a small clearing. The two girls abruptly stopped as they came face to face with an old cottage resembling something out of the fairy tales they'd read. “This must be it.” Soojin stated, marching forward once the shock wore off. There was nothing to be afraid of; she was certain of what her future would entail, she just needed the confirmation. Before Soojin could knock on the door, it was opened by a middle aged woman dressed in rags.

“Are you the witch?” Was the first thing out of Soojin’s mouth. She lay unimpressed as Yoona soon joined her side, stunned into silence.

“Are you the Seo girl?” The fortune-teller reproached, causing both young girls' eyes to widen, before the fortune-teller allowed them in. “It’s two hundred to have your fortunes read - each.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Yoona protested, but Soojin fisted the money out of her wallet before throwing it on the nearest table she found. “There, now tell me my future.”

“How about I tell you a story instead?”

Soojin rolled her eyes dramatically, “I don’t want a story. I want my future, tell it now.”

The fortune teller smiled, taking long steps before reaching a chair. She took her time sitting and making herself comfortable before finally turning towards Soojin. “Tell me child, have you ever seen a lion and snake play together?”

Soojin frowned, “What?”

“They are opposite beings in nature. Warm-blooded and cold-blooded. A union between them would never work.” The witch grabbed the pile of money and began to count it, “A lion takes several mates but always stays within his pride. A snake lives a solitary life, its only companions the flowers it lives alongside.”

“You’re making no sense!” Soojin’s hands balled into fists, as she began to raise her voice in frustration. “You’re speaking in riddles, talk clearly.”

“She means that the match won’t last.” Yoona, who had remained quiet until then, finally spoke up.

“That isn’t true!” Soojin screamed, head whipping back and forth between her friend and the witch. “Who will marry the prince if not me?! I am to be a queen. I will bear a son and become a Jeon. Our marriage will unite the kingdom and ensure prosperity for the kingdom.” The words were not her own, but those she had been raised hearing.

“Ah, a queen you will be and a son you will bear. A Jeon though is not a name that is given but granted. Read up on your history child, this union will only breed destruction.”

Soojin didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. The witch was lying to her. She simply wanted to embarrass Soojin, that's why she was making up all those lies.

Yoona excitedly pounced on the opportunity, now that Soojin was out of the picture perhaps she had a shot. “If not her then who? Who will marry the prince?”

Soojin turns to glare at her supposed friend, furious at the hope that had filled the young Yoona now that she believed Soojin to be out of the picture.

The fortune-teller looked out the window at the trees that surrounded them, “This winter has been long, but spring will come again. When it does, the flowers are always the first to bloom.”

“Flowers?” Soojin asked, at the same time that her friend drew her conclusions.

“A Kim?! I’m a Kim. Does that mean I will marry the prince?” Yoona asked excitedly, unaware of the glare now being cast her way by Soojin. Poor Kim Yoona misunderstood, her family though they held the last name, held very little power and had only managed to amass their fortune through their loyalty to the Seo’s. Something the young child, unbeknownst to her, ruined that very afternoon. Still much like young Yoona, Soojin too did not know the difference between Kims - they were those who simply possessed the name while others who were blessed with it. When they were walking back towards their homes and Yoona accidentally slipped on the rocks and dove head first into the ravine, Soojin couldn’t bring herself to care much. If fate wants her to be with the prince, then she will surely not drown. The princess thought as she walked away and headed home preparing for her upcoming trip.

“This winter has been long but spring will come again. When it does, meet me where the flower’s bloom.” YN had awoken alone in her bed in the morning, surprised that neither Sana nor Jungkook were around. She supposed it was a blessing in disguise for the note left on her pillow would have surely been the subject of questioning. It had taken her a while to decipher what exactly Namjoon had meant by the note, but figured that overthinking would be exactly what would be expected of her to do. So, YN headed towards her vanity but stopped cold when she realized the book was not there. I could’ve sworn… YN searched high and low through her bedroom in a manner that was discrete yet thorough. She felt eyes on her and didn’t know if they were guarding or threatening.

Sana must’ve placed it elsewhere. It would be strange considering the maid never moved any of her stuff without explicit permission, but it certainly was a possibility. YN sighed, looking at the note once again tracing it with her finger as she pondered on what the lord’s intentions might have been in sending her that message. If it had been something unimportant, he surely would have communicated through his staff. It was the way of the palace. If it was urgent, Kim Namjoon would have come himself. No, this was something different. YN’s eyes danced once more on the small piece of paper, observing carefully as if the paper would suddenly reveal a secret to her, that was for her eyes only.

“Where the flowers bloom…” What flowers? YN’s eyes widened as she recalled something her late mother had taught her. YN had been too young to remember much of her parents, even the few memories she did have were obscured. She did remember her mother always plotting lilies though, it was the only thing that she had been able to cultivate while they lived in the harsh areas of the city. Their garden, if it could be called that, had been barely a meter long. Though their father insisted that she try to grow vegetables, because they were always so expensive at the market, she only grew lilies. Even if they always died. Lilies were delicate beings and required extreme care and stable environments - something YN hadn’t known much of growing up. There was another thing about YN’s mother’s garden: she always complained about the ivy weed that threatened to consume it.

Where flower’s bloom? Lilies required care, attention, and warmth. It needed round the clock observation. An ivy, on the contrary, could potentially grow in any type of environment even the most inhospitable ones. The passage ways!

It seems Jungkook had kept his promise of locking up the passageway, but YN had figured it couldn’t be the only one. Certainly a castle this old and large must have various entries and exits privy only to those who reside in them. So YN looked in the most obvious place she could think of. It wasn’t difficult to gain access to Jungkook’s bedroom, and the palace had been fairly empty as of late so there weren’t many lingering around. It was rather difficult though to escape the eyes she felt. Jungkook had promised her a brand new security detail, though she had assumed he meant guards. Now she was uncertain. Everywhere YN went she felt eyes and as she peered around the prince’s room, it was no different. Morte was nowhere to be seen but YN couldn’t be sure the snake was hiding or if she was accompanying her master.

“Psst.”

It came from behind her. YN spun around only to face the wall behind the bed. Then she heard it again, “Psst.” This time louder, as she drew nearer her eyes focused on the pattern of the dark brick wall. It was perfectly layered and symmetrical, likely thousands of years old, as the stone had long faded yet somehow kept its state. One last time the “psst” rang out and YN finally noticed that one of the bricks was slightly more pushed in than the others. It was something only noticeable since she was barely a breath away from the wall. Hesitantly, YN reached out and pressed at a large section of the wall sliding back by a few feet. Then she walked forward into the corridors making sure to close it behind, her unaware of the viper observing.

“I was afraid you might not join me.” Kim Namjoon was not dressed in his usual attire of extravagant clothes. In fact, the old wash of his bottoms and creases on his shirt made it seem like another person when YN had first laid eyes on him, after discovering him deep in the corridors. “I have walked long and have yet to see any Ivies growing. Your clue wasn’t easy to decipher. Had I misinterpreted it, I would have headed to the gardens.” YN answered, there was something off about the lord today but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He seemed desperate to YN. “Ah, but we are at the gardens.” Namjoon replied, finger taping the wall to his left. The passageway they found themselves did in fact run alongside the palace gardens. To his left grew lilies, once planted by the great Kim when the palace was first constructed. To his right, inside the castle, ivies: tall, wild, and lethal. All planted by Jeon the I without intent.

“What is it you want my lord?” Though YN normally enjoyed conversing with Namjoon, something inside her stomach warned her that being hidden away with him would have consequences.

“Have you read the book, my lady?”

“Ah,” YN didn’t exactly know how to break it to him without possibly upsetting him. “I seem to have misplaced it.”

“Someone took it you mean.”

“Why would someone steal a book?” It was a genuine question, as Namjoon had come to that conclusion far too quickly.

“Why would someone steal you?”

So that is what he was trying to get at. YN had long grown tired of having to explain her situation and felt a bit disappointed that Namjoon would even ask. He seemed different. She should have known better. “That is the question I’ve been asking myself since I arrived.” Her tone was apathetic, as she glanced around trying to figure out how to end the conversation.

“Surely you are not that oblivious my lady. You hold value - a true value that is rare to come by these days.”

Now she was confused, “You make no sense.”

Namjoon stepped closer. Even though it was just two steps, YN felt he was trying to bridge the space between them. Either to get her attention or establish dominance, she wasn’t too sure. YN held her ground. “I’m afraid I never do.” Namjoon caresses her cheek, leaning in to whisper. “You smell divine, like flowers...a Sharon rose, perhaps?” YN eyes widened. Her mind traveled to Soojin’s confrontation. “It is simply a name my lord.” Namjoon chuckled, “Yes, I suppose so. That is why there are only two true Kim’s in court.” He turned sharply on his feet and walked away, but not before spinning back just as quickly. “The help is sorted into two fields - Seo’s and Jeon’s - Sana is a Jeon, not by name but it is where her alliances lie - besides the crown.”

The phone rang inside Min Yoongi’s study and he ignored it. Fully aware of who it was and the consequences it may bring, but the Duke couldn’t bring himself to care. Jimin was in a good mood today, splendid even, and Yoongi didn’t want to do anything that would risk that. So the phone rang for hours upon hours, jiggling harshly upon his desk much to his annoyance. He had instructed the staff to ignore it - let the man think he was out of town. Though it was a dangerous game, now far from the castle Min Yoongi found the courage he so often lacked. He was prepared to play the long game and ignore the brat, demonstrating that Yoongi was not a puppet or a butler he could have at his beck and call. When the phone finally stopped, Yoongi assumed he had won. Until the phone started ringing elsewhere: the master bedroom - Jimin’s room. Yoongi bolted out the door leaving his chair turned over and a few papers scattered. The duke ran through the hallway and burst past the doors just as Jimin put the phone to his ear. Yoongi ripped it out of his hand as gently as he could, not missing the questioning gaze of his beloved. “Hello,” his gruff voice sounding slightly out of breath from the run.

“Hello Yoongi, I’ve been trying to reach you but it seems you’ve been too busy to pick up the phone. So I figured I would ask your darling for a favor, it’s been so long since I’ve heard from him.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened and his hands balled into a fist. “There’s been some problems with the phone lines lately, it looks like there’s a storm coming.”

“Oh a storm is coming all right, but that is not why I contacted you Yoongi. I’m sure you’ve received the invitation by now.” He meant the wedding invitation. Yoongi had in fact received the invitation earlier that morning, to say he was surprised when he saw ‘Jeon Jungkook and Seo Soojin’ on the piece of paper would be an understatement. What of the girl? “You see there is the matter of my bachelor party.” Oh no. “While my soon to be wife is busy readying herself, I see no point in not enjoying my last night of an unwed life. So my beloved and I are headed towards your estate as we speak. I hope it isn’t too late for a party.”

Jungkook had yet to tell her where they were headed, but he seemed in a pleasant mood something which caused YN quite a lot of concern. She was aware that the wedding was tomorrow and hadn’t found it to be a good sign that the groom was effectively leaving a day before. Though Jungkook had sworn he would marry Soojin, there had to be something else at play. A hidden pawn or move that he hadn’t yet exposed - it wouldn’t be out of character for him to somehow weasel his way out of a promise. Then again… The King was involved in this affair and Jungkook had yet to disobey his father. At least in front of her.

“What has you so entertained?” Jungkook reached over and delicately massaged the frown between her brows. His other hand entwined in hers, fingers gently tracing over her knuckles. “Penny for your thoughts.”

YN forced a polite smile on her face, “Simply wondering where we are going.” There was nothing to gain from speaking the truth. If her time in the castle had taught her anything it was that.

“Hm,” the prince nodded, clearly not entirely believing her but choosing not to press the matter. “We are headed to an old friend’s place. Duke Min has agreed to host us for the evening as a farewell gift to my bachelor status.”

The name rang a bell and the longer she dwelled on it, the clearer the person he was speaking about became. “Duke Min? As in Lady Eun’s lover?” As in the man she had begged to spare her brother’s life? To be fair, all the charges against her brother had been dropped. It wasn't the Duke’s fault that Jungkook had manipulated everything to kill her brother regardless. You killed his lover.

Sensing the clear discomfort in her tone, Jungkook smiled. “Don’t worry my love.” He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning her ear. “Yoongi engages in various liaisons, but only one truly holds his heart. He and I are a lot alike in that sense.”

The Min estate was a sight to behold, though it did not compare to the grandiose nature of the palace, YN found herself enjoying it more. It was brighter, a light sky color that matched the lush greenery that surrounded it. It was much smaller than a duke’s home should be, but that was to be expected of a secondary residence - even if it was where Min mainly stayed. In front stood Min Yoongi, as well as multiple staff, all different levels of anxiousness. Most thoughts revolved around the prince and what a pleasure it would be to serve his royal highness when they were so used to serving the duke and his lover. All of Yoongi’s thoughts, though, were on the girl. He longed to see her, only if to ease his curiosity. It had been so long since they had last met and Yoongi wanted to know if she had changed, what she had become. if she remained the same desperate child begging to be saved - or had transformed herself into a vicious snake.

As the carrier arrived, the driver quickly exited to open the door. Jungkook exited first with a sly smile on his face that caused most of the staff to swoon, and right behind him, wearing a simple satin high collared blue dress with a grey coat, exited YN. Her eyes cast around before they immediately dropped down. It wasn’t until Jungkook took her hand in his that she looked up, sending a blank look to the prince - which upon further inspection by the duke was filled with a mixture of contempt yet reluctance. Jungkook whispered something to her that caused her eyes to widen and she quickly looked up at Yoongi with fear in her eyes. The look mirroring one Jimin had given him the first time they had met.

It was gone rather quickly, replaced with a gentle smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Yoongi wondered if that sort of training had been cemented by Jungkook or if much like his songbird YN had learned that adapting meant surviving.

After a brief tour of the home, the three of them had lunch though YN did not miss the fourth table set that went unused, much to the Duke’s apartments annoyance, the three then spoke in the patio for hours about politics, music, art, philosophy. Though it was more like YN was an observer than an active participant, Jungkook seemed fine about her lack of enthusiasm so long as she was draped on his lap or holding his hand. It was like she was a prize to be admired, but not engaged with. Any time she did wish to join the conversation, she would look up and meet Min Yoongi’s dark feline eyes and immediately sink back into silence. There was something about the duke that holy unnerved her, he seemed fine enough at first glance but the prince’s words kept bouncing around her head. Dinner then came and went, followed by drinks and finally it was time to retire.

“We have prepared two rooms like you asked.” Yoongi states, after waving away an approaching maid. “We hope they are to your enjoyment.” YN can’t help but feel a sense of relief at not having to share a room with Jungkook. They both excuse themselves and are guided up the stairs. Once the maid leaves, YN goes to enter the room but a hold on her wrist stops her. She turns back to look at Jungkook quizzically.

“Oh come on now darling, the rooms are for show.” He says amused. “It’s best not to cause an uproar the night before the wedding.” Jungkook doesn’t even give her time to respond, before he pulls her into his room and shuts the door. It is when he goes in for the kiss that YN rushes out a question that has been plaguing her all day. “Are you actually going to marry Soojin?” Jungkook stops, tilting his head to the side as if thinking over what she says. “Why? Are you jealous?” His tone is teasing, as he goes in for another kiss only to be stopped by YN once more. “You promised her you would. Promised me as well. Do you intend to keep it?”

Jungkook sighed, walking towards the bed and stripping off his clothes layer by layer. “Soojin has been my fiancé since we were children. I was always meant to wed her.” This causes YN’s chest to swell with excitement, only for it to be shattered seconds afterwards. “Still it is you who will be my queen. You did promise to wed me too recall? In exchange for protection from any more assassination attempts. Everyone always knows that first marriages are for gains and the second is for love.” He beckoned her closer, for some reason YN obeyed. Standing nearly nude in the moonlight YN once again was blinded by his beauty. He looked so much like an angel, but she knew devils could shapeshift to enticing forms.

Once again she wondered if things had been different would Jungkook have wooed her too. In another life, would she have come to love him? Would he even be interested in her? No use in thinking of what ifs. Nothing would change who Jungkook was now, just like it appeared nothing would save YN. Not as long as the prince was alive.

When YN awoke the next morning the prince was gone, the spot beside her in bed now cold. Though she couldn’t be certain it had ever been warm. She dressed and headed down stairs, surprised to find barely any staff and the duke gone as well. It’s a royal wedding of course they would all be gone. YN eyed the door and approached it, seeking an opportunity for escape. The place couldn’t possibly be as heavily guarded as the castle. YN hadn’t seen any guards or anything of the sort the day before. Just as her hand was about to grip the handle, a butler appeared startling her.

“Pardon the interruption my lady, but breakfast has been served outside in the garden.” YN smiles politely nodding before heading out towards the gardens. The gardens aren’t likely to be guarded. She could always escape into the forestry surrounding the house. As she exited the house, she caught sight of a man sitting at the table where breakfast was served. He was stunning, that was the first thing she noticed. With soft yet angled features, large lips, and delicate eyes. She must’ve been staring a long time because the man finally turned to look at her and in his eyes, YN could see a deep melancholy not dissimilar to her own.

“So you’re the prince’s whore?”

YN was taken aback by his bluntness, but squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She wouldn’t be disrespected by someone who seemed to be in the same boat as her. So that’s what Jungkook meant. “Are you the Duke’s?”

He smiled, she could tell it wasn’t fake as humor filled his eyes. Only to quickly be replaced with sadness yet again. “I am his lover, his songbird, his whore.” The man looked forward towards the violets, “It all depends on his mood.” Then filled with mirth, “It all depends on the sex.” It was once he turned back towards her, his smile a mix of innocence and seduction that he finally stated his name. “You can call me Jimin though.” YN couldn’t help the slight smile that spread across her face, for even though she did not know what Jimin had gone through he was still surviving and that inspired her a bit.

The two of them ate in silence and merely observed the garden, breathing in the fresh air and taking in nature. YN thought this might be the first time she has ever been at peace after meeting Jungkook. It isn’t until the sun is higher in the sky, past midday or a bit before, that Jimin speaks again.

“They’re both gone. Off to the wedding it seems.” He says it with such resentment, YN can’t help but wonder if it's because he isn’t with them or Jimin dislikes weddings in general. When YN questions him, he chuckles. “No, I’m not mad. A whore isn’t welcome in a church after all.” The sly wink he sends her lets her know that she too is included in the joke. Even then, she wonders if Jimin even gets to leave at all. Suddenly Jungkook’s words when they were approaching the house pop into her head, “The Duke is fond of keeping treasures too so be sure not to catch his attention.”

“Perhaps we should have our own fun.” She says suddenly, little thought given to the consequences said action may hold for both of them.

Jimin turns to YN, eyes widened before his lips pucker into a pout. “I’m not allowed to leave and no one can go against the Duke’s wishes.”

“I outrank the Duke.” A bit of silence followed before the two of them broke out into wicked grins.

YN had never really been in the city, the area she used to reside in where the slums were, and even then she went out so little that her memories of it were vague. Jimin seemed to have a better idea of where they were going, dragging her from fashion boutique to cafes to bars and anywhere else he could think of. He seemed so jovial as if he were a bird able to fly after so long, when he looked it at YN it was with a mixture of glee and gratitude. Even if she didn’t enjoy all the attention garnered every time Jimin pulled out Yoongi’s money, she didn’t want to break what little happiness had returned to Jimin. Especially when he had seemed so starved of it.

“Here this is for you. If you’re forced and resigned to being the prince’s whore might as well dress the part.” Jimin often called her that instead of her name, but given the lack of malice in his voice whenever he did YN couldn’t bring herself to care. He handed her a velvet box, which upon opening it possessed a silver necklace with a black gemstone and matching ring. “Jimin I can’t take this.” It was certainly expensive judging by the look of it and she felt this was his way of saying thanks. “I appreciate it but -”

Jimin rolled his eyes and took the ring out of the box and forced it onto her finger. “Don’t make this a big deal. If you look like a victim people will treat you like one, but if you look like a queen...well no one goes against a queen.” He had maneuvered his way around her and placed the necklace on her neck tying it delicately on the back. “There now you look like a queen.” His fingers brushed comfortingly on the side of her neck. YN smiled and thanked him silently. They were towards the back of a store, it was a smaller boutique, likely only being able to contain no more than twenty people inside yet it was relatively empty. The stylist had stepped into the back after offering them beverages and hadn’t returned since.

As the two new friends continued their conversation, a car pulled up to the front of the store. It was a large suburban with thick windows that were blacked out. Since Jimin had his back to the front it was YN who first noticed it, finding it peculiar. It wasn’t until the car doors opened and she saw the sigil on the driver’s side that she recognized who it belonged to. Resistance. It didn’t take her too long to grasp at why they were there. Rather quickly she gripped Jimin’s arms, “Go to the back of the store and don’t come back out until it's safe.” Rather forcefully she shoved him towards the back and Jimin spared her a glance before running to the back of the store.

Please please please. YN didn’t know exactly what she was asking for, but it was the only thing that occurred to her. Five burly men entered the store all setting their sights on her immediately. “Hello, Kim YN. Our leader would like to speak with you.”

“I’m Kim Seokjin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The words couldn’t be any more of a farce, but Seokjin was nothing if not civil and polite. The smile forced onto his face was entirely charismatic and swayed anyone that looked it at. While being a good leader was important, good looks also aided Seokjin in staking his claim on the throne. Though people swore loyalty to the Kim’s and claimed to despise the Jeon’s, no one would rally behind an ugly person not when their prince looked like a fallen angel. “I’ve been told quite a lot about you. I am sorry that we have had to meet under these circumstances, but it isn’t very often the prince lets his most prized possession out of his sights.”

Truth was he could have waited, but Seokjin wanted to see her. Wanted to know what had captured not just the prince’s attention, but Namjoon’s as well. Now that YN was in front of him he saw nothing that could explain it. She’s rather plain looking. Not only that but she sat perfectly straight in her chair refusing to engage in any conversation at all. Her lips were pursed, face stoic, and eyes observed everything at a clinical distance. She acts like a Jeon that’s for sure. Well if she wasn’t going to reply might as well continue, “I am sure you have first hand experience of how cruel the Jeon’s can be. They are cold, cunning, and utilize dark arts to keep their power. They took what was once a great country, with wealth and happiness to go around and have hogged it all to the point were most of the population lives in extreme hunger and despair.”

“Have you ever gone hungry?” YN’s soft voice spoke out, barely above a whisper yet it captured all of Seokjin’s attention. “It seems strange to me to hear about hunger and despair from a man who has never experienced it in his life.”

Seokjin was taken aback, but kept his calm. “I have faced much despair in my life, but it would take too long to go into detail about it. Plus I am not fond of comparing traumas.”

“What dark arts do you speak of? I’ve never heard of the Jeon’s performing dark arts.” That was a lie, but YN was baiting him. Plus if Seokjin had useful information that could help her escape Jungkook then she was willing to do anything.

Seokjin smiled, “A group of less than a hundred men stormed a castle full of guards, nobility, and the royal family and within an hour had slaughtered them all and taken control. Of course, it was magic.”

So he knows nothing. YN remained quiet, she observed Kim Seokjin the way one might a potential threat. Even if he had yet to attack or make his intentions clear, the only person YN had met that hadn’t attempted to coerce her or hurt her had been Jimin. The odds weren’t in her favor. Even Namjoon whom she had thought of as a friend had acted strange the last time they met. “Unless there is something you know. Which may help us restore the imbalance of power and return things back to their harmonious state.”

It was clear neither were buying what the other was selling and it was only a matter of time before that truth became obvious to the two of them.

“What I am trying to get at my lady is, it would not only benefit the kingdom but you as well if you -” Before Seokjin could finish his pitch, the doors of his office slammed open and in strolled Kim Namjoon decked in a royal blue blazer with matching top and cream pants, he looked like a leader and with the way he regarded Seokjin it was clear which one of them truly called the shots. “I learned you kidnapped Lady Kim when I specifically asked you not to. Now we have both an angry prince and Duke on our hands.”

“The prince is getting married, he is far too concerned with his future bride to care where his mistress is.”

“Ah, well since you clearly know Jeon Jungkook so well explain to me then why fourteen of our allies had their families raided and imprisoned not ten minutes after you took her.”

Both Seokjin and YN froze in shock, unable to believe what they had just heard. Ten minutes? It took ten minutes for Jungkook to find out she was missing and exact his revenge when he was more than a hundred miles away. “Don’t play with me Namjoon.” Seokjin’s voice had lost all its charm and was not monotone, “This isn’t funny.” Namjoon scoffed, “They’re awaiting their sentencing and everyone knows it's the gallows for traitors.” An image of her brother’s dead body flashed before YN and she struggled to not heave. “Now go fix it.” Namjoon demanded, pointing his finger out the door. Seokjin marched out not sparing YN a look, but she could tell by the look on his face he would surely blame her for this. It’s always my fault.

YN sat stunned in silence as Namjoon ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends with frustration. She glanced towards her lap trying not to make eye contact, her hands were shaking and YN gripped her skirt in order to steady them. “I can talk him out of it.” YN wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Namjoon or herself. “He wouldn’t -”

“Yes, he would YN. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re dead already.” He muttered, before sighing and gazing at her sympathetically. “Don’t blame yourself my lady. This isn’t your fault.”

YN chuckled humorlessly, “All of this is my fault. Every death that has occurred since the prince and I crossed paths has been my fault.” Or by my hand. Lady Eun and Vito flashed before her eyes.

“Well then I shall have to start referring to you as Lady Death or Lady D for short.”

YN smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood, “Very funny my lord.” The two stared into each other's eyes for a while before YN finally broke the calm silence that had settled between them. “Is Kim Seokjin an ivy or a lily?” The smile on the lord’s face melts away before he quickly replaces it with one that doesn’t reach his eyes. There is a mask on his face that YN has only seen him wear around others before and she smurmises what it must mean - Namjoon finally sees her as a threat.

“He is a Kim with a stake to the throne, one of the last remaining ones.” He walks towards a leather seat right across from where she is. Namjoon sits the way a gentleman would, reclining yet keeping his back straight and shoulders square. Head held high as his height caused him to look down at her ever so slightly. YN found herself imagining what he would look like with a crown on his head. “So what is your plan? To use Seokjin and let him die in his quest for the throne?” Her eyebrow raises as she questions whether Namjoon would be as cruel to use someone for their own personal gains, then again that seems to be the norm among the nobility.

“Seokjin won’t die.” Namjoon spoke as if this were a fact and not an optimistic delusion.

“Please don’t be foolish, my lord. The Jeons and Seo’s will wipe out any possible threat that exists to them.” YN had experienced it first hand.

“The Seo’s believe where all lunatics clinging to the past and the Jeons would never attack without solid reasoning.”

YN laughed, “The prince just executed four families without solid reasoning.”

“No,” Namjoon shook his head as disappointed she didn’t understand. “The prince executed conspirators that may have played a role in the kidnapping of a court lady and his lover.”

YN fixed him with a pointed stare, “You know the truth.”

Namjoon leans forward in his seat, “The truth doesn’t matter, tell a lie enough times it becomes the truth. People don’t want to believe the reality, they want to hear what is most convenient to them.”

“What is this truth that you are trying to tell? That Seokjin is the true heir when the Kim line has been so mixed that’s nearly impossible. Or is that little speech all you have?” YN was frustrated. Tired of being treated like a pawn in a larger game of thrones. “You seem to be under the illusion that I am completely unaware of what having a Kim king was like. I don’t like the Jeons nor the Kims, both patriarchy’s have set about ruining the kingdom each in their own way.”

“Good thing we aren’t going to have a patriarch on the throne.” He smirked.

YN’s words died on her tongue as the statement caused her to pause. It unsettled, then it all began to click. Jungkook’s intense desire to make her queen, Soojin questioning her family name, Namjoon’s insistence, even her brother’s untimely death. At that moment YN longed to be anywhere else but there to be far away: back in the store with her brother, back in their childhood home with her parents, even locked back inside the palace bedrooms. At least there she knew what to expect, what future awaited her. There her status as a sister, daughter, prisoner were clear. Inside the rebel grounds they were not, she was about as certain of her fate as she had been that night in the dungeon. “What do you mean?” The look Namjoon gave her spoke for itself. You know what he means, don’t deny it any longer. “YN,” he rose from his chair cautiously, his eyes hesitant as if unsure how she would react. For a split second, YN could see what looked like trepidation in his eyes but what would the great Lord Kim have to be afraid of? “You were never merely a pawn and it was never nearly a name.”

Soojin sat restlessly on the marriage bed, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. She was certain there were ears glued to the chamber doors and could feel eyes on her figure, yet she couldn’t tell where they came from. The wedding had been a spectacle if a little small, but she supposed it would help cement her image as a humble princess. It wasn’t a good look to waste millions on a wedding when the country’s poor were starving. Her knees were tucked into her chamise as the cold air in the room nipped at her skin, the lit fire was too far away to offer anything besides light. Though she longed to go near it, she had been told it was bad luck for the bride to step foot off the bed before the marriage had been consummated. Even if it already had been days before.

She isn’t exactly sure how long passes, but knows that it must have been a while since the cold nipping at her had long seeped into her bones and was now causing her to shiver. The silk bedding offered little protection. More time passed and Soojin found herself dozing off, the new moon high in the sky before she was awoken by the ringing of a bell. It announced that someone wished to enter the room and Soojin gave her permission. A young maid entered, hair tucked tightly into a bun as she bowed deeply. She looked familiar to the princess and she racked her brain trying to find her name before finally recalling, Ah yes, Sana. The whore’s maid. Soojin didn’t think much of it, since YN was no longer in the castle and posed no threat to her. She regarded the maid civilly.

“What is it?”

“I apologize, your highness, the prince has left the castle for the city and it seems he will not be returning before tomorrow.”

Soojin laughed, to her it must have been a joke. Surely Jungkook would not leave on their wedding night to be with his mistress when his wife was right there. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth and realized she was not only laughing, but crying as well. Finally Sana looked up at her, eyes filled with pity and any sadness in Soojin turned to rage. I see. YN had sent her maid to taunt her, to show that even though Soojin was queen Jungkook still belonged to her. Soojin raised her hand to strike the maid, when a sudden sharp pain from her abdomen caused her to fall over.

“Princess?!” Sana rushed to her help, only to be pushed away by Soojin. “Leave! Lock the doors! I don’t want anyone to see me!” She roared like a lioness and Sana backed away, bowed in submission. It was once she heard the small ‘click’ of the locked door that Soojin allowed the sobs to wreck through her body as the pain in her stomach worsened. What is happening to me? She raises her hand and sees small drops of water that have stuck. Soojin could not remember the last time she had cried. Perhaps it had been her sixth birthday when her father had died or perhaps it had been when her mother scolded her for crying after his death.

Nonetheless she did not have time to dwell on it for the pain she felt forced her up and had her heaving. She could feel something crawling up her throat and she tried desperately not to choke on it. I won’t give up this fight. Not after everything I’ve sacrificed. The pain was harsher than ever and it burned so much that Soojin swore it would tear itself from the inside out. She had no choice but to open her mouth and let it out. Soojin expected a lot of things to exit her: bile, the wedding cake, even flowers if she were to be honest. What she did not expect was the small baby snake in the pool of blood; which upon closer inspection by the princess was dead.

When YN arrived at the Min house it looked deserted as if not a soul resided in it, but she knew Jungkook was waiting inside. Even far away, YN could sense the danger radiating from inside - Jungkook was sure to be infuriated and she hoped it wasn’t too late to talk him down from his anger before more innocent people lost their lives. She pushed through the front doors, not surprised to find them open, and saw Jungkook waiting for her sat upon the stairs. What did come as a shock to her was that he was still wearing his wedding clothes. Did he really come straight after? His long hair is styled back to show off his undercut, the tight fit of his suit - a grey and white jacket with matching pants and the Jeon symbol embroidered on the left breast - show off his figure nicely. When the prince catches her staring he smirks, but it does little to subdue the fire present in his eyes.

“Oh and did the rebellion help you find your way back darling? How nice of them. Not to worry, I’ve already sent them my thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, but it stoked YN’s own fury how casually he spoke about killing people. How little he cared.

“Haven’t you killed enough?! Those poor people have nothing to do with it and you know it. Stop murdering people as a show of power.” She was seething, not being able to bear the guilt of anymore blood on her hands.

“A display of power?” Jungkook raised his eyebrow, “If I wanted to display my power, I would have murdered every single person in that little so called rebellion. No what I did was a display of my love for you.” Even through his insanity, she could see he was being honest and that terrified her even more.

“How do you think it looks to your people that on your wedding day, you’re more concerned with your mistress's disappearance than your own wife?” Though Jungkook didn’t care about appearances, the crown still had an image to uphold.

Jungkook opened his mouth, letting it form a small ‘o.’ “I see you’ve been under the impression this whole time that the public knows who you are.” He smiled at her confused expression, “You see while the public is aware that I have taken a mistress, all they know is that she is a lady of the court. But the murders that occurred tonight were due to the aiding of a wanted criminal.”

“A what?” It was not the first time that day that YN had found herself as the centerpiece in a chessboard. Except that while she had just been told she was the strongest piece - this conversation would serve as a reminder of who truly controlled the game. “Your brother was an enemy of the state, one that conspired to overthrow the throne. While normally I allow Kim Seokjin to play diliances since everyone is aware his claim is less than weak, him reaching out to you demonstrates that he is a far more threatening player than I had originally anticipated.” He shrugs, “If you ever do manage to escape you will be persecuted for your crimes against the crown.” He would throw me in a cell and let me rot to prove a point. No, it’s more than that. Jungkook is not only cornering her, but the Kims in general. A criminal can’t be a ruler.

YN walks toward Jungkook, her stride strong and determined as she crossed the space between them to come kneel in front of him. Once they were at eye level, she tenderly cupped his cheek. Whispering softly, “Are you afraid he sought me out to get to you? Is that what this is?” Jungkook leans into her embrace, trying to steal a kiss. YN avoids him by instead brushing her lips over the shell of his ear, “After everything you have done to me I do not need outside forces to compel me to hate you.” When she pulled back, she saw something unexpected. There were tears in Jungkook’s eyes, not dissimilar to the ones that had been there when she had told him of his father’s plan. For a split second, YN found herself wondering once again what might have happened if the two of them had met in a different time. If Jungkook were not the cruel prince that he is and had not hurt her, could she love him? Or were they doomed to repeat the same brutal love story for all of eternity.

Jungkook’s hand snapped up to grab a hold of YN’s neck and he flipped them around, caging her between the marble stairs and his own body. “It is not his interest in me or my crown that fills me with bloodlust, but rather his interest in you.” The prince’s grip was so tight, she could feel the indents of his fingers being left behind.

Perhaps she should have waited for a better time. Perhaps YN should not have taken the bait so clearly laid out by the prince, but it had been a long day and the only person who could truly give her answers stood right in front of her. “How long?” She questions in a broken whisper. “When did you know?” Had he known this whole time and that’s why he had been stringing her along? People in the kingdom longed to go back to a time before the Jeons, but their hatred did not extend towards the prince. In their eyes he was nothing like his cruel bloodline. Jungkook drew her closer, his lips trailing up her nose bridge until he planted a kiss on her forehead. “If you're afraid my interest in you is solely due to your bloodline, don’t be afraid. Something as measly as a name wouldn’t sway my affection.” He lowered his head, to make sure they were at eye level, “besides you’ll be a Jeon soon. Whether or not you are of royal bloodline will not matter once you are queen. If anything it will legitimize your place beside me.” The smile he gave her was saccharine, full of nothing but love and adoration. As if his words were meant to comfort her, when they were only a display of how carefully he had orchestrated everything.

“When?” YN repeated, glaring at him with so much fury Jungkook swore he should be beneath the ground.

“After our conversation in your cell. I had Yoongi and Jimin find information about you and deliver it to me.” He drew away, leaving space between them in case his words evoked a physical reaction. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t being fooled. Then I read about your parents, what a strange accident that seemed to be.” His finger tapped his chin mockingly. “Especially so soon after your adoption had been finalized. Then I traced your lineage only to find it didn’t exist. Since my grandfather took the throne every single person born with the surname Kim has been documented, yet you don’t exist.” His pitch raised, dramatizing his words. “Seems like someone went a long way to make a little girl from nowhere completely disappear.” The prince shrugged, as if his words had not completely shattered everything YN once knew to be true.

“That is how I knew.”

YN lunged at him, she didn’t exactly know what had compelled her to, but she did. The strength behind said attack seemed to surprise even Jungkook. Still he looked entirely serene when she straddled and wrapped her hands around his throat, deciding to repay him for what he had done seconds before. YN squeezed with all her might. Instead of being afraid Jungkook began to laugh, maniacally so, “Honestly darling, first stabbing and now choking. What’s next, are you going to try to poison me?”

“Morte isn’t here.” YN spat out, “There’s nothing to ensure you survive.” The prince was beginning to turn red, face swelling at the constriction of air flow, yet he kept laughing. She had begun to understand the type of power Jungkook wielded, if Morte was his lifeline like Vito was hers. Then not having the snake around made him vulnerable.

“I don’t need a snake to keep me alive because you won’t kill me.”

“Who says I won’t?!”

By now hints of purple had started to seep through, he was gasping for air. “B-because i-if you d-do I’ll k-kill i-it. I’ll k-kill s-Soojin’s unborn child.”

YN stilled, but did not relinquish her grip. “You’ll be dead. You won’t be able to hurt anyone.”

“I’m the only thing keeping her alive,” he smiled sadistically. “The second I die, Seokjin will take power and he won’t hesitate to slaughter. Or maybe it’ll be your precious Namjoon. Perhaps even Sana, she’ll be so filled with envy and rage that I didn’t impregnate her that she will poison Soojin.” He leaned forward, licking his lips. “Then it will not only be my blood on your hands, but that of an innocent child.” As his words set in, YN’s fingers slacked and Jungkook took advantage, wrapping his arms around her torso. YN stared up at him, “How could you be so cruel?” It wasn’t until she tasted the salt on her lips that she even realized she was crying.

“I will do anything to keep us together. Whether alive or dead, you cannot escape me.”

_6 Months Later_

“Princess, are you ready? The prince and King are waiting for you.”

Soojin sighed, standing up from the chair she had decided to rest on and allowed the maid to guide her towards the front of the palace. There was to be a tour today, charity work where the royal family went out and pretended to care about their people. The last tour, before Soojin had known about her pregnancy had been a success, even if it had been cut short by the King’s health suddenly declining once more. Still today’s trip towards the city’s slums was sure to not be too troublesome. Just smile and nod. Her hand brushed tenderly over her large bump, it was quite big for the stage she was at and had been the cause of much speculation and rumors. Still Jungkook played the role of doting husband and soon-to-be father so well, no one would ever suspect Soojin had only seen him a handful of times since the wedding. Even less since the engagements.

Whom Soojin had not seen at all was YN. Though it caused her nothing but glee to think the wedding and pregnancy had hurt her in some way. The princess also knew that enemies should be kept closest of all, even more than her own son. “Did YN receive my gift?” She whispered lowly, so as not to be heard. The maid nodded, “Yes, princess. It was delivered at dawn by a neutral party.” Good, then she’ll be out of our hands soon. If YN was smart she would take the chance offered by Soojin, even if it was a trap that was sure to leave her permanently out of the picture. When she arrived at the main entrance, she noted all the guards and nobility lined up to bid them farewell yet - “My son will not be joining us. He has received word of the rebellion planning an attack and I have ordered him to stay.” King Jeon barely spared her a glance before adjusting his crown and entering the car.

Soojin grimaced, but put on a smile when entering. It’ll be fine. Just smile, nod, and make them love their future queen. The King’s days were numbered, anyone could see, that is why the rebellion was getting bolder. Staging public protests, spreading propaganda, and small planned attacks. They were building to something. Rumor had it they had infiltrated the castle and though Kim Seokjin had always been the face, Soojin had heard through the grapevine someone else truly pulled the strings. It's ridiculous. Just a little boy playing dress up. So the princess pushed it from her mind, cradling her stomach as the car drove away into the road to embark on the journey, unaware it would be the one that would lead her straight to death.

YN didn’t know exactly how long she had been walking, but considering the sun had just risen when she had sneaked out of the castle and was now about to set she must’ve walked a significant distance. She hadn’t brought much with her, wanting to leave before Sana brought her breakfast or Jungkook stopped by. Only a jacket, a change of shoes, some money, a map, and Jimin’s gift tucked away in case the worst happened. The blisters on her feet were surely bleeding by now, but stopping to rest was a risk YN wasn’t willing to take. Cliche as it might be, YN heard the snapping of a branch before she realized she had company. “Lady YN.” When she turned around she was greeted with Park Jinyoung and Lee Baekhyung. “The King has requested you return to the palace as soon as possible.” The guard’s faces were as stoic as YN remembered considering she had not seen them in a long time.

He sent his lap dogs after me...wait, the king? “I believe you’re mistaken, surely the King has greater concerns than me.”

Baekhyung smiled, “Nonsense, nothing is more important to the King than you right now. And we’ve been sent to escort you back.”

“Or retrieve you by force if necessary.” Jinyoung added.

YN didn’t need to look to know she was surrounded by guards, still the trip had not been useless. She had gotten what she was after and the men were none the wiser.

“The vehicle transporting the King and princess was attacked by the rebellion. Not all made it out alive.”

YN gasped, No. That can’t be. Before YN could dwell on it any longer, the guards grabbed her and dragged her to the car. She didn’t put up a fight, too many thoughts running through her head, but one stood out above all. Soojin can’t be dead.

“Get it out of me!” Soojin screamed, pain wrecking her body as she contorted every which way. Several maids held her down as they tried to save her son. “Get him out of me! He’s dying! He’s killing me!” Truth is with every contraction felt, Soojin found herself becoming weaker. Her muscles ached yet felt tender, bones brittle as if made of stone, every time she breathed it felt like she was inhaling smoke. What is this?! What is going on?! “Please princess. Just push. Breathe and push.” Soojin tried to do what she said, but instead of easing the pain it only made it worse. The knife had long been discarded and the maids were now attempting to help take the baby out, but it didn’t explain the pain. “Stop it hurts! It hurts!” She cried out, feeling like she was being torn from the inside out.

The second she realized that, Soojin swore she felt claws trace the lining of her stomach from the inside. “Get that fucking thing out of me!” He isn’t human. It isn’t human. She had long been warned of the dangers of a Jeon pregnancy, but Soojin hadn’t listened. She never listened and it would finally cause her death. I should have killed it. By now the blood spilled all over the sheets, floors, and clothes was turning a dark red. I should have killed the girl before he met her. Soojin felt her heart begin to beat slower. I should have killed the witch. Her senses weakening as spots filled her vision. I should have killed him when I had the chance. A flash of memory came to mind: the night she had told Jungkook of her pregnancy, how delighted he seemed to have been, yet when he spoke of ‘we’ she had somehow known it wasn’t about her. He knew, he knew all this time...and all to be with her.

“Just one final push princess and that’s it.” Soojin's smile was filled with melancholy as she gave one final push, bringing the new prince into this earth. When the child took his first breath, she took her last.

YN stood in front of the giant throne room, she hadn’t bothered changing knowing the King would look at her with disgust no matter what she wore. Tentatively she knocked, before the doors were slammed open and YN entered her eyes to the ground displaying submission. “You requested me, your highness.” Instead of a response, she heard a babble. When her eyes snapped up YN saw what to others might be the stuff of dreams, but to her, it was her worst nightmare come true. Jungkook sat upon the throne, a heavily jeweled crown resting on his head - the Kings crown. His entire focus was on the newborn in his arm. He gazed lovingly at the small boy and even cooed at it. Jungkook was so entranced a goofy grin adorned his face as he coddled his son.

Eventually the prince King did look up and what you saw in his eyes was an amalgamation of pure love, obsession, and insanity. “Look Mommy’s here.”

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