#milk hearth

[loftyangel]

marupan.0219

[sleepis4theweak]

Came across this post the other day and realized I relate to it a bit more than I initially thought....

doomed siblings... save me doomed siblings...

[marsprincess889]

Basic themes of nakshatras

May edit this later, this is as far as I understand and have observed them, and I think it's pretty nice to see them simply.

Ashwini:

Newness, freshness, the unmanifest, speed, energy, vitality, instinct, healing, fast healing, unlimited energy, self-expression, selfishness, blocking outside noise, trusting yourself, self-empowerment, unfiltered actions.

Things that remind me of Ashwini: bees, the sun, horses, two white horses, golden deserts, horses gallopping, honey, long hair flying in the wind, apples.

Bharani:

Love, death, sex, the female, the feminine, limitations, the material, fate, destiny, coming into the body, struggling against limitations, struggling against fate, mind trapped in its own hell because of the inevitable, dealing with the harshness of life, harshness of mothers and mother nature, the hierarchy, privileges and deprivations, desire, going after your true desire, the immortality of the soul, adapting to changes, passion, tragic love, bravery, facing the truth, choicelessness, nessecity, revenge, violence, gatekeeping, reduction, denial of access, conquering your fate, everlasting beauty, immortality, eternal love.

Things that remind me of Bharani: hot pink and black, darkness, roses, the yoni, gateways, keyholes, caverns, boats, rivers, the damsel in distress, fantasy, high fantasy.

Krittika:

Adam, the main character, naming things, language, rationality, precision, sharpness, criticism, the poet, the "it" person, simplicity, cleanliness, expressing oneself, selectivity, the heat, the knowledge, the light, masculine ideals, stoicism.

Things that remind me of Krittika: knives, razors, lighers, sparks, fire, hearth, cooking.

Rohini:

Eve, sugar babies, growth, receptivity, enjoyment, pleasure, unrefined, doted on, subconcious, absorbtion, sharing, union, creation, the youngest daughter, naivete, feeling no shame.

Things that remind me of Rohini: sugar, stickiness, sweetness, heaviness, red, pink, flowers, the A.I(lol).

Mrigashira:

Distraction, realization, fickleness, adventure, running away, chasing, the hunt, excitement, softness, pleasure, altering conciousness, magic substances(iykwim), curiosity, fulfillment, insatiability, teasing.

Things that remind me of Mrigashira: silver threads, deer, green forests, green and blue, running in the woods, alcohol, the moon, Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

Ardra:

Disillusion, crying, lamenting, awareness of others, awarness of other's expectations, hyper-awarness of everything, intellect, the rational mind, pressures from society, rebelling against society, anxiety, hunting.

Things that remind me of Ardra: tears, water, storms, technology, teenage angst, emo culture, the rain, sad songs, dogs.

Punarvasu:

Mercy, forgiveness, permission, freedom, flying, expansion, gentleness, regrowing, realigning, returning, home, unconditional love and nurture, celebration, peace, peacefulness, centering oneself, sunlight, warmth, fostering, taking care, being taken care of, luck, unlimited fertile space, shelter, genuine kindness, believing in humanity again, cycles, patterns, seeing the cycles and the patterns, prophecies, the oracle, openness, second (and third, fouth...) chances, a comeback.

Things that remind me of Punarvasu: staying at home, pets, plants, cats, gentle rain, a bow and arrows, a target.

Pushya:

Asceticism, routines, self-restraint, servitude, control, self-control, working, working on yourself, patience, simplicity, striving for perfection, nurturing, nourishment, quiet ambition, symmetry.

Things that remind me of Pushya: milk, milkmaids, country life, milking, symmetry, goats, sheep, agriculture.

Ashlesha:

Manipulation, abuse, poison, emotional abuse, blackmail, resorting to everything for safety, protection, pent up energy, the nervous system, purity, water, sensitivity, cleanliness, energetic build-up, tension, restraint, preservation, self-preservation, virginity, feminine tactics, being "mean" for protection, lying for safety, sensuality, mother issues, agitation.

Things that remind me of Ashlesha: the color white, transparent things, cats, poisoning, snow white, Sofia Coppola films, teenage girlhood, ties, strings, knots, snakes.

Magha:

Royalty, power, ancestry, family trees, history, the past, regality, honoring the past, honoring the elders, honoring the authority, religion, tradition, customs, confidence, ego.

Things that remind me of Magha: crowns, thrones, churches, goth culture, smoke, big hair(like the lion's mane).

Purva Phalguni:

Pleasure, enjoyment, being spoiled as the feminine, loving to spoil as the masculine, procreation, sex, leisure, art, holidays, parties, exclusivity, pride, charisma, sexual dispersion, love as a method of self-expression, admiration, directness, active pursuit of your passions, indulgence.

Things that remind me of Purva Phalguni: fruits, eating fruits topless, rose gold color, the "rizz"(lol), the phallus, dramaticism.

Uttara Phalguni:

Favors from friends, family and partners, contracts, beneficial agreements, the perfect wife, likeability, popularity, friendliness, appearing cool, stoicism, beneficial arrangements, gain through partnerships, self-expression through relationships, wife/girlrfiend material, harvest, family associations, marriage associations.

Things that remind me of Uttara Phalguni: the "chads", simplicity, genuine friends, loyal companions, family business, the perfect male stereotype, the "rich heiress running away" trope, wheat, gold, power couples.

Hasta:

The earth, the veiled feminine, manipulation, denial of access, materialism, cheating, everyday matters, empowerment of women, deception, skill, seeking knowledge, wanting to be in control, activism, street-smarts, manipulation of masses.

Things that remind me of Hasta: the hand, Goddess Persephone, skilled hands, thieves, easy money, fairies, witches, scammers.

Chitra:

Crafting, building, perspective, truth, law, gems, sacrifice for your craft, vanity, stereotypes, aesthetics, the truth in stereotypes, building based on the law and the truth, the surface of things, the appearance of things, the substance reflected in the vessel, gossip, cliques, tricks.

Things that remind me of Chitra: the god Hephestos, martian gods in general, jewelry, fashion, make-up, drama, pettiness, the coquette aesthetic, pranksters, Olivia Rodrigo(ig).

Swati:

Space, the cosmos, shifting realities, love, rebellion, alternate realities, possibilities, seeing beauty in everything, inspiration, art, the cosmic egg, creation of the world, creation of worlds, microcosm and macrocosm, freedom through love.

Things that remind me of Swati: video games, the wind, plants beggining to sprout, the sword, technology, the Sims.

Vishakha:

The lightning, snapping, splitting, joining opposites, compromise, marriage, repressed anger, repressed aggression, alter egos, passion, enthusiasm, standing up for yourself and others, repression and then expression, energy, love and hate.

Things that remind me of Vishakha: lighning bolts, Zeus, Thor and other lighning gods, superhero "Shazam", celebrations.

Anuradha:

Friendship, devotion, depth, loyalty, unconditional loyalty, bonds, the occult, sex with love, numbers, gatherings, friend groups, groups, gentleness, humbleness, discipline, seriousness, organizing society, social groups.

Things that remind me of Anuradha: the color burgundy, dim lights, bunnies, "Sex Education" (tv show), sci-fi (for some reason), "The Vampire Diaries" (and very similar teen shows), frat boys, cheerleaders.

Jyeshta:

The battlefield, war, hunger, thirst, insatiability, conquering, the underdog, street-smarts, competition, strategy, extreme independence, mind games, the art of war, survival, ruling, rising above, self-reliance, wisdom, becoming the authority, the eldest, dryness, trust issues, enemies, destroying enemies, outsmarting all enemies.

Things that remind me of Jyeshta: grandmothers, owls, eagles, dry places, flags, marching, chess.

Mula:

Horror, the abnormal, the truth, the core, the center, the absorbing darkness, the black hole, the roots, violence against falsehoods, seeking the truth, seeking the cause, seeking roots, uprooting, chaos, from chaos to order, the unchanging truth, taming beasts, holding to your truth.

Things that remind me of Mula: "Phanton of the Opera", "Twilight", final girls, horror movies, dark murky green, the wilderness.

Purva Ashadha:

Art, beauty, alliances, artistry, ideals, fighting for the ideal, discrimination, exclusivity, philosophies about beauty and art, passion for love and art, attachments, secrecy, luxury, vitality, vigor, going for victory.

Things that remind me of Purva Ashadha: the sea, seafoam, goddess Aphrodite, seashells, mermaids, sirens, fans (the ones you hold in your hand lol), Arwen from LotR.

Uttara Ashadha:

Victory, loneliness, individuality, government, empowerment, independence, being looked up to, composed self-expression, ease, simplicity but regality, confidence, self-assuredness, melancholy and hardships of aloneness but contentment, stoicism, invincibility, unapologetic behavior.

Things that remind me of Uttara Ashadha: earnest people, goddess Nike, mint color for some reason.

Shravana:

Connecting everything, secret knowledge, interest in everything, reading between the lines, subconcious access, extreme sensitivity, holding the humanity together, secret agencies, percieving what others can't percieve, saving humanity, navigating, receptivity, mysticism.

Things that remind me of Shravana: Superman, Geralt of Rivia, Aragorn, King arthur, pathways, footprints, ear, color blue, spies, astrology, outcasts, fringe societies.

Dhanishta:

Celebration, celebrities, fame, visibility, aggression, agitation, action, bringing people together, idols, propaganda, wealth from fame, that which attracts attention, public image, benefits and downsides of fame, openness and flashiness, branding, movement.

Things that remind me of Dhanishta: supermodels, Princess Diana, dancing, rhythmic drums.

Shatabhisha:

Complexities, seeing everything, lurking in shadows, holding the knowledge, secrets, secrecy, hiding, technology, innovation, being ahead of your time, advising but manipulating, society, the collective, trends, the conciousness of masses, propaganda.

Things that remind me of Shatabhisha: midnight sky, stars, the seas, water reservoirs, the circle, the all-seeing eye of Sauron(lol), Lord of the Rings, rings, the movie "Stardust" (the book too), the evil advisor/black cardinal trope.

Purva Bhadrapada:

Notoriety, expansion, uncontrolled expansion, persmissiveness, growth to ruin unless restrained, fighting for your soul, the scapegoat, going against society, getting tested, the point of no return.

Things that remind me of Purva Bhadrapada: gangs, famous criminals, laziness, femme fatales, the grotesque, deserts, werewolves, the black sheep.

Uttara Bhadrapada:

Finding grace, hardships, working, inner strength, steeliness, resilience, patience, restraint, contol, self-restraint and self-control, bravery, honesty, stubbornness, fighting for your truth, perfect control, freedom through limitations, seeking a permanent foundation built on truth, working for the foundation, long-term goals, innocence, purity of soul, stillness, refinement, honor and glory.

Things that remind me of Uttara Bhadrapada: butterflies, clouds, baby blue color, Cinderella, warriors, knights, knight orders, ice, coldness, queens, ice-queen, dragons, water dragons, deep waters, deep sea and its creatures, wings.

Revati:

Ultimate freedom, creativity, wisdom, gentleness, compassion, guiding, herding, fun, laughter, mischief, lightnness, ease, finding peace, reaching the end, enjoying what you have, contentment, nurturing, open-mindedness, conclusions, gratefulness, freedom and free will, having choices, diversity, finding the truth, true wealth, parenthood, the guide, guidance, individuation.

Things that remind me of Revati: shepherds, herding, everything easy and light, the tricksters, the fool, jokes, Loki, The Joker, fish, comedy, the movie "A Fish Called Wanda", caring for everyone and everything, light and soft shades of green and blue.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟿𝚔 || 𝐎𝐔𝐓-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐃

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You ask Sirius if he’d still love you if you were a worm.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Sirius Black x fem!reader

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual evening buzz. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the scattered armchairs and sofas where students unwound after a long day. Yet, something was distinctly different about this particular evening, and it wasn’t just the sight of Remus Lupin trying to hide a smile behind his book.

Sirius Black—usually the life of the party, the source of everyone's laughter—was pacing the room with the expression of a man who had just been told he was being disowned (again).

The reason? You, his usually forgiving and smitten girlfriend, were sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, glaring at him with the intensity of a thousand howlers. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife—or at least thick enough for Lily Evans to finally take notice.

“What’s going on with you two?” she asked, setting down her Muggle novel and looking between you and Sirius with a raised eyebrow.

James perked up immediately. “Yeah, Pads, why do you look like a puppy that’s been kicked? Did you finally tell her that awful joke about the werewolf and the moon?”

Remus shot him a look. “Don’t even think about it, James.”

But Sirius was too busy grovelling to engage in their usual banter. “It wasn’t a joke! I was just being honest!” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with the kind of desperation that made Peter look up from his sweets.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a look that could have curdled milk. “Honest? You call that honesty? You could have at least pretended to be romantic!”

Peter, munching on a chocolate frog, looked between the two of you in confusion. “What did you do, Pads?”

Lily leaned in closer. “Yeah, what did you say that was so terrible?”

You finally looked up from your magazine, fixing Sirius with a glare that could melt the snow on the highest peak of the Forbidden Forest. “Do you want to tell them, or should I?”

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again—like a fish out of water. “It’s not that bad…”

“Not that bad?” you scoffed, slamming the magazine shut. “I asked him a simple, hypothetical question—”

“A trap,” Sirius interjected quickly, holding up a finger. “A trap disguised as a question.”

You ignored him, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “I asked if he would still love me if I were a worm.”

A beat of silence.

Then, James erupted into laughter, nearly toppling out of his chair. “A worm? You asked him if he’d still love you if you were a worm?”

Remus was struggling to keep a straight face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked between you and Sirius. “And… what did you say, Sirius?”

Sirius looked pained. “I… I said no.”

James fell out of his chair for real this time, clutching his sides as he howled with laughter.

Lily, however, looked scandalized. “You said no?”

Sirius nodded helplessly. “But—”

Lily cut him off with a look of pure betrayal. “Why would you say no? She asked you if you would still love her as a worm, Sirius! The correct answer is always yes!”

“I know that now!” Sirius exclaimed, looking around the room as if begging for backup. “But at the time, I wasn’t thinking about the emotional implications! I was thinking about the logistics!”

James was gasping for air, tears streaming down his face as he tried to compose himself. “Oh Merlin, this is too good. Padfoot, mate, you’ve really done it this time.”

“What logistics?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not that complicated! Would you still love me or not?”

Sirius threw his hands up in the air. “But you’d be a worm! How am I supposed to know it’s you? What if I accidentally step on you, or you get eaten by a bird? And what would we even do together? It’s not like we could… I don’t know, go on dates or—”

You rolled your eyes so hard you could’ve seen the back of your skull. “That’s not the point, Sirius! The point is that you didn’t even hesitate to say no. I could’ve been anything—a cat, a dog, a bloody flobberworm—and you just shot me down!”

Sirius threw his hands up in the air. “Well, yeah! I mean, how am I supposed to love a worm? It doesn’t even have a face! Or a personality! It’s just… squirmy and gross!”

You shot him a withering look. “So that’s it, then? You’re only with me because I have a face?”

“Wha—no!” Sirius spluttered, eyes wide. “That’s not what I meant at all!”

Remus, barely containing his amusement, decided to chime in. “Pads, I think what she’s trying to say is that you should’ve said yes, no matter how ridiculous the question was.”

Sirius looked like he was having an existential crisis. “But it’s a worm! How am I supposed to kiss a worm? Or hold hands? Or—”

You cut him off, your voice icy. “Oh, so that’s all I am to you? Someone to kiss and hold hands with?”

Sirius’s eyes widened in alarm. “No! That’s not it at all!”

James was now thoroughly enjoying the show. “Sounds like it to me, Pads. You’re only in it for the snogging.”

Peter, ever the peacemaker, tried to step in. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that…”

But you were on a roll now, standing up from the sofa and glaring down at Sirius, who was still kneeling in front of you. “If I were a worm, Sirius, I’d have a heart, even if it’s small and squishy! But apparently, that’s not enough for you!”

Sirius, now in full panic mode, reached for your hands, trying to make you sit back down. “But I don’t want you to be a worm! I love you as you are—human, beautiful, with a proper face!”

You yanked your hands back, crossing your arms again. “So you only love me because I’m not a worm. Not because of who I am.”

Remus snickered behind his book. “You’re in deep now, mate.”

Sirius shot him a desperate look. “Not helping, Moony.”

Remus decided to step in. “Sirius, you have to understand—these questions aren’t about the actual scenario. It’s about the sentiment behind them. She was looking for reassurance that your love is unconditional.”

Sirius threw his hands up. "But it was a worm! I thought honesty was important!"

You finally looked up, narrowing your eyes at him. "Honesty? You just admitted you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm, Sirius. That’s not honesty, that’s cruelty!"

Peter piped up, "But… how would he know if the worm was you?"

Everyone turned to Peter, who shrinked slightly under the attention. "I mean… if you were a worm, how would Sirius know? And… does a worm even have feelings?"

Lily shakes her head, still laughing. "You boys are impossible. The worm is a metaphor, you idiot!”

Sirius rubbed the back of his head, still looking confused. “A metaphor for what?”

You sighed, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “For love, Sirius. For whether or not you’d love me no matter what.”

Realization dawned on Sirius’s face, and he looked genuinely horrified. “Oh… Oh. I see now.”

James, having finally caught his breath, piped up, “Well, it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? You’ve got to make it up to her now, Padfoot.”

Peter nodded sagely. “You really messed up this time, Sirius. Girls don’t just ask you if you’d love them as a worm for no reason.”

Sirius turned to you, eyes wide with desperation. “Okay, I get it now. I was wrong. I should’ve said yes. I should’ve said I’d love you even if you were the slimiest, wriggliest worm in the world.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting him squirm under your gaze for a moment before speaking. “And why should I believe you?”

“Because,” Sirius said, his voice softening as he took your hands in his, “I love you. And I don’t care if you’re a worm, or a dog, or a… or a Blast-Ended Skrewt. I love you for who you are, not what you are. And if you were a worm, I’d find a way to make it work. I’d carry you around in a little jar, and I’d protect you from birds, and… and I’d even learn what worms like to eat!”

But you weren’t having it. “Too late for that, Black. You’ve already made your feelings clear.”

James leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. “You know, Pads, if you’d just said yes in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this mess. But now, she knows your true feelings.”

Sirius turned back to you, his expression one of pure, unadulterated pleading. “Please, love, I’m sorry. I was just being stupid. You know I’d love you no matter what, even if you were… I don’t know, a Blast-Ended Skrewt!”

You blinked at him. “A Blast-Ended Skrewt?”

Sirius nodded earnestly. “Yes! Anything but a worm!”

Remus couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “And you think that’s better?”

Sirius groaned, running his hands through his hair again. “Okay, bad example. But you get what I mean, right? I’m sorry. I love you—worm, human, Skrewt, whatever.”

You paused, staring down at him as he knelt before you, looking thoroughly pathetic. The room was silent, all eyes on you as they waited to see what you would do next.

Finally, you sighed and sat back down, though you still kept your arms crossed. “Fine. I forgive you. But you’d better start thinking before you answer stupid questions in the future.”

Sirius beamed, his relief palpable as he quickly scooted closer to you on the sofa. “I promise! No more stupid answers!”

James leaned over, whispering to Remus. “Bet he’ll say yes to anything she asks now.”

Remus smirked. “No doubt about it.”

Sirius, now fully back in your good graces, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple. “So, just to be clear… I’d love you no matter what, even if you were a worm. A very cute worm.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, though you tried to hide it. “Good. Because if you ever hesitate again, I might just have to turn you into one.”

Sirius laughed, pulling you closer. “And I’d still find a way to love you.”

James, watching the two of you, sighed dramatically. “Merlin, if this is what love is like, maybe I’m better off single.”

Lily rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. “Oh, please. You’d have said the same thing if I’d asked you.”

James grinned, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You wouldn’t have to ask. I’d love you no matter what.”

Lily blushed, playfully shoving him away. “You’re ridiculous.”

James smirked. “So, Sirius, if she were a Blast-Ended Skrewt—”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, “We are not going down that road again.”

Hope you all liked it!

[celuere]

Can we have a part 3 to the Not Enough/Sweet dreams Arlecchino x reader fic where Reader finds out she's pregnant and has to break the news to Arlecchino? Maybe some cute stuff about Arlecchino taking care of pregnant reader, just a bunch of FLUFF

Pretty please🙏🙏🙏

Anon if you’re asking SO nicely how could I possible decline…

To be honest I thought about this for quite a while because I am actually not that sure about how Arle would receive the news. I don’t think she would react in a negative way and just… dip out but I also don’t think like she would spin you around in sheer happiness (only if you‘ve been actively trying ofc but that’s not the case here). So I thought about a more neutral reaction, not knowing what to make of the news at first. But trust me when I say that I tried to make it as fluffy as possible without going too much ooc

Bu Arle taking care of her pregnant wife? Sign me the FUCK up.

pairing: Arlecchino x pregnant!reader

context: look at anon request!

cw: pregnancy, a bit angsty at the beginning, so much fluff that you’re suffocating in it, idk what else to put here tbh, not proofread!

Also I wrote the paragraphs shorter on purpose since I wanted it to have more of hc look than a full length fic!

Two. You connected a lot of things with the number Two.

For once there was your husbands birthday. 22nd of August.

Then there was the second Fatui Harbinger. Dottore.

You always put two spoons of milk into your coffee.

You have two eyes, two arms, two hands, two legs, two and so on.

You never connected any negative feelings with the number two up until now.

Two lines.

There were two lines on the paper stripe you were currently holding in your hand.

You weren’t shaking. You weren’t crying. You weren’t hyperventilating.

You just stared. Stared down at the positive pregnancy test as all you could hear was the thrumming of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You were pregnant. Pregnant from your husband. Pregnant from the fourth Fatui Harbinger.

Pregnant from Peruere.

You suspected it for a few weeks now. The frequent morning sickness, the headaches, the sudden exhaustion washing over you at the weirdest moments, not being able to keep certain foods down for a longer period of time.

You weren’t surprised, really. But you were afraid.

Would she be happy? Would she tell you to not keep it? Would she yell at you? Would she be ecstatic? Despite being married for a good five years now, the topic of pregnancy and a family outside of the Hearth never once came up in the thousands of conversations you already had.

You had exactly no idea how Arlecchino would take the news.

And that scared you to death.

To add more salt into the wound, your husband was currently not even present. She took on a mission in Mondstadt two weeks ago, only returning this upcoming Saturday.

So you‘ve got four days to come up with a plan on how to break the announcement to her. And you hoped with all your heart that it wouldn’t destroy your marriage.

Over the timespan of the next few days until Arlecchino‘s arrival, the children of course noticed your changed demeanor. The tense look on your face, your often exhausted expressions, how you often excused yourself to the bathroom after shared meals, they even noticed that you stopped wearing clothes that highlighted the curves of your body, exchanging them with a warm cardigan instead. They knew something was off but they couldn’t quite put their finger on it.

And Father wasn’t spared any details of it when she arrived late in the afternoon on a quite rainy Saturday. As a result, Arlecchino observed the situation for her own better judgement.

Your greeting was as usual, a soft kiss onto her lips while your soft hands cupped the outlines of her face with the exception of one thing.

Your weren’t smiling into the kiss like you‘d always do. But that was no reason for her to already draw a conclusion, so she simply went along with it, taking your hand into hers and lead you to the living room so she could tell you all about her little trip to the Nation of Freedom.

Furthermore she noticed how you stopped changing in front of her, even going as far as to lock the bathroom door when taking a bath, how you were always up much earlier than her, often leaving the dinner table as soon as you were finished with the excuse of „still having to go through some paperwork“.

It weirded her out just as much as it worried her. What could you possibly be hiding from your Husband?

On the other side of the coin, you were completely distressed. You had no idea how to tell her, when the perfect timing would be- just the thought about telling her caused your heartrate to increase unhealthily fast. And the bump that was getting more and more visible as time went on, it was getting incredibly hard to conceal it.

So now you where sitting next to your Husband at a fancy gathering of the Fatui, not daring to take off your coat despite Arlecchino‘s insistence.

You were sweating to death but there was no way in hell you‘d expose your bump like that so you just endured and declined the multiple wine glasses that were offered to you and stuck to your simple glass of water.

And that’s when it dawned on Arlecchino, every little puzzle piece slowly coming together as she watched you bring the simple glass to your lips.

The concealing clothes, not changing in front of her, how you avoided any kind of intimacy ever since she arrived, your distaste for certain foods and the sounds of you hurling up your guts in the morning.

How could she be so dense to the obvious? How did she not notice anything sooner? What on earth did go wrong for her to not think about the possibility of a pregnancy?

And for the first time in her life, the Knave felt something in her stomach sink. Was that nervousness? Guilt? Whatever it was, she hated this feeling. Wanted to rip it right out with her own hands and burn it to ash.

A family? With you? Sure, this particular scenario crossed her mind quite a few times. The image of you carrying her child, accompanying you to doctors appointments, waking up in the early mornings for a baby. Her own baby.

But was she fit for that role? Was she fit to raise this child with you? What if she turned out to be just as bad as Mother? What if she failed you during the pregnancy? These new paths opening up in her mind where so incredibly overwhelming for her, she had to excuse herself quickly for a quick breather of fresh air.

You knew something was off by stiffness in her voice before she left for the balcony, you were following her footsteps not a few moments later.

The cold evening air made the hair on your neck stand up, forcing you to pull you coat tighter around your frame when you strode up to her. She had her back turned to you, head leaned back to gaze upon the moon shining down at the both of you, her hair almost glowing in the moonlight.

„Peru-”

„When did you find out?“, her words were soft. Hidden with a slightly sharp edge but you knew exactly what she meant. You figured that she’d eventually find out on her own but you couldn’t help but feel that wave of anxiety wash over you.

„Around three weeks ago… four days prior to your arrival… Peruere, I… I tried telling you so many times but I simply couldn’t bring myself to- we never discussed the possibility of a family and considering your work in the Fatui- I simply didn’t want to put another burden on your shoulders…“, the tears formed very much on their own, the wind now stinging in your eyes.

„You think that my wife being pregnant with my child would burden me?“, she now finally turned around, her face was like nothing you’d ever seen. There wasn’t coldness edged into her facial features. Nor anger or irritation.

It was disappointment.

She was disappointed in you. Was she that bad of a spouse? What made you believe that she‘d be angry with you for something you were both responsible for? Seriously, was there ever a point in your relationship when she was truly mad at you? Sure, you had your disagreements like ever other married couple but your Husband was never angry at you. Anger makes one impulsive. You should know that best.

„Thats not how I meant it- but a child? Is that something you can imagine, is that something you truly want?“, the desperation in your voice cut deep into her heart. You must’ve carried these words with you for so long now, she should’ve acted sooner.

She finally took a step towards you, „Do I look appalled? Do I look disgusted by the idea? Am I even angry with you? My love, you tell me if I want to take this path with you.“, the worries from earlier still plagued her mind but that was a discussion for later. All that mattered to her now was to soothe whatever doubts you had.

„I… I don’t know… we never talked about this- you are often away on missions, what about your reputation, what abou-”, you words were swallowed up by her soft lips being pressed against yours, her hands sneaking around your back to pull you in closer to her.

The kiss was soft, so full of love and affection and suddenly it wasn’t nearly as cold as mere moments ago.

Slowly, she parted your lips, leaning her forehead against yours. A gesture she always did to signal you to calm down, that everything is alright.

„Tu parles trop…“

„You talk too much…“

She made no comment when her thumb gently brushed away a tear that silently ran down your beautiful face. The both of you just stood there in each others arms, not moving, simply just enjoying the presence of the other.

„I‘m sorry for not telling you sooner… I couldn’t- I just didn’t know how…“, the words came out barely as whisper, almost swallowed up by the wind.

„My sweet… what did I just tell you about talking too much?“, she gently squeezed your hands, getting a chuckle out of you that warmed her heart.

„So you’re not mad with me?“

„Do I seem mad to you?“

„No… No not at all…“, you both shared another soft kiss with each other.

„Then there is you answer. Now please… stop hiding from me…“, carefully, she shoved the coat aside to take a closer look and oh boy, you might just shoot her right there.

The cute baby bump might just changed her brain chemistry for the rest of her life.

A faint blush crept up on your cheeks at her reaction. It was unusual for her to loose her composure so easily, „the Doctor said I’m at the end of my first trimester… would you like to have a feel…?“, weird to propose to her again, but yes. You didn’t have to tell her twice before her warm hand carefully ran over your visibly swollen belly, she might just touched Heavens Gates itself right now.

There wasn’t any words being exchanged between you. There was no need for that. The softness in her eyes was all that you needed.

Over the course of the next weeks, you got to witness a completely new side of your Husband and loved this one even more.

Arlecchino immediately got you one of these long pregnancy pillows so we’re as comfortable as possible in your sleep, always making sure you weren’t laying flat on your back

You weren’t even allowed to carry your own bag anymore. You even had to convince her to let her walk up the stairs without her assistance, she was just fretting way too much about you, you were pregnant and not sick, right?

She made it part of her bed routine to apply and gently massage your belly with a special lotion that she went out of her way for to get it from Bubu Pharmacy itself, you didn’t even dare to ask about the price.

Can’t take her hands off of your belly for the love of it. The sight is just so admirable to her, thinking about the little life that grew up inside your tummy was just so- mindblowing to her so and when the first kicks start to set in… she is a GONER. Beyond salvation. Don’t even try to speak her.

Mandatory nap time. She did her research way before your pregnancy and knows how much of a toll this lifechanging process will have on your body so she lets you nap whenever and wherever you want and even sometimes tucks you into the comfort of your bed when she thinks you‘ve been active for way too long. You need rest. Lots of rest.

Stops leaving the house for mere paperwork or negotiations after your five months in, those are to be held now in her home office in case something might happen or you need her and if that happens to be the case- she quite literally drops anything for you.

Literally thanks you every chance she gets for bringing your daughter into the world, often wrapping her arms around you from behind, hands gently lifting up the weight of your baby belly as she plants soft kisses on your neck while telling you how much of a strong woman you are and how grateful she is for you the carrying out her baby. She is far gone your honor.

Did you every think to meet the Knave in a course about birth preparations on a Friday evening? Now you have.

Literally doubles the security in- and outside of your house, always having someone at your disposal and even arranging a team of nurses. That is of course only if you are comfortable with a bunch midwives swarming around you 24/7.

Her worst ever fear would be to miss the birth. Nothing sounds as horrific to her as making you go through the traumatic experience of giving birth without her presence, it drives her nuts to a point where she even refuses to leave you alone for more than hour in the ast few weeks of pregnancy

Of course buys you pretty pregnancy clothes that fit your taste, wether it be something to hide your belly or rather highlight it, she buys it all.

You literally can’t have a conversation with her without her ass mentioning her pregnant wife. Childe is so sick of her atp.

I‘m so down bad for arle being a goner for her pregnant wife. I can’t stress this enough.

[hallow-witxh]

Kitchen Staples and Their Properties

If you're any kind of kitchen user, there are a few things that are usually present. Things like bread, cheese, beans, and vinegar are all things that many kitchens keep in stock. So, here is a list of some staples you may have in your kitchen, and what they mean.

Bread: health, abundance, the hearth, kindship

Beans: wisdom in choices, luck, money, divination, prosperity

Butter: peace, friendships/relationships, spirituality

Cheese: goal completion, happiness, moon magic, health

Eggs: feminine/goddess magic, fertility, mysticism

Honey: joy, love, sex, wisdom, lust, purification, health

Milk (Cow's): feminine parenthood/guidance, love, sustenance, spirituality,

Rice: fertility, protection, luck, money, growth

Salt: purification, protection, grounding, cleansing

Sugar: banishing negativity, love, affection, invoking kindness/sweetness

White Vinegar: cleansing, purification, protection

Adding some things together melds their properties! Cooking in butter for your friends can strengthen your relationships with them, and baking bread can bring abundance into your home.

As always, do your research, practice safely, and blessed be!

Support your local witch on Ko-Fi!

[saintgoths]

☾༺♰༻☽ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʙᴇʀʀʏ ☾༺♰༻☽

mdni - nasty sex. angry sex.

carlos oliveira, ellie williams, sim ghost riley, joel miller, leon kennedy, levi ackerman and will herondale.

this is for you guys helping me reach 400+ followers :)

ᴄᴀʀʟᴏꜱ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇɪʀᴀ

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks as your face had been pressed against the soft mattress, his large hand had been entangled within your locks while the rough thrusting of his hips had aided you into an eternal pleasurable tunnel, your whines mixed and embedded with his soft grunts as he angrily fucked his cock inside your tight cunt, his width twitching between your hearth while mumbling strong words of affront.

“I’m sorry,” you grumbled, your chin wet with your own shameful saliva, yourself incapable of keeping your mouth shut in response to his lewd roughness, eyes blurred with gratifying tears while the thumb of his free hand found way to the tightness of your second hole, your legs spreading further apart in sensual apathy while your boyfriend continued to rip you apart.

Finding the strength to grip your fingers into the bed sheets you had clenched your sex around his size. “I---I can’t take it!” You cried out, “Too big!”

“Shouldn’t have tried to make me jealous, princess,” he sneered, nearing his lips to your ear, “Want me to stop?” He whispered, dragging the hand that had been tied with your hair to your waist, the heaviness of his chest pressing against your back and with desperacy you had shook your head. “Just as I thought, like the slut you are,” he gritted, the thrusts of his length deepening against the softness of your pussy driving you into a delirious ecstasy.

“Yes! Yes!” You chanted, crazed feeling your orgasm heat and peak around your cunt you had moved your hand to the swollen pearl of your sex, desperately rubbing and circling your digits around your bud while you had frantically moaned against your bed sheets, your tears slowly drying against your cheeks as you respired all the animalistic thrusts your partner contacted you with, your eyes twisted shut as your high pushed through your entire body, your juices leaking on outsides of your thighs as your figure inconsistently twitched.

Over-stimulated by the quickness of his pushes, you had allowed Carlos to take care of your body, milking his warm cum against the slickness of your back. “There, there,” he whispered as your body slumped against the mattress, you felt his lips go close to your face once more. “Now, you won’t do that again?” He questioned, his voice laced with cunningness that had caused you to throw a certain look his way.

“Maybe.”

POSITIONS REFERENCE.

ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ

You knew you couldn’t stay angry at each forever, and you knew Ellie would give into you once you met her with bright deer-like eyes; she’d drag you into her small cabin and begin to kiss you, though you had still felt the irritation that had vibrated through her body, but what she hadn’t realised is that you had just been as angry as her or even more

Once your clothes had met the floor, the two of you had continued to re-discover each other’s bodies, your fingers slipping and circling places that would cause her figure to jerk, and the second you had found yourself on top of her, your swollen bud had pressed against her eager pearl, your body circling and thrusting against her slim but muscled figure, your paw finding way to wrap around her neck as your once slow motion had carried into a stronger and competitive rhythm.

“Fuck,” Ellie whined, her back deeply pressed against her mattress as she had wrapped one leg around your waist, possessively and greedily twirling her body with yours as her coloured eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body shivering in pleasure as your juices mixed with each other, the friction sending her into a crazed edge as she held back her cum, embarrassed with how quick you had made her ride to her climax. “Don’t stop!” She cried out and cocky, you had smirked at her, your other hand finding way around her neck as both of your buds humped each other.

“Not stopping anytime soon,” you lustfully smiled, tucking your bottom lip behind your teeth you breathed out a moan as you gently bounced against her swollen pearl, finding yourself wanting to squirt against her cunt you allowed yourself to orgasm against her sex, combining and fusing your nectar with her natural wetness, the view of the whiteness of your ambrosia stirred Ellie into an soaring climax, both of your cunts pulsing against each other as you both resumed to grind in sync, both faces red and covered with love-tears as you had mutually sent each other into a second climax.

With a loud sigh, you had pressed your forehead against Ellie’s, with the both of you exhausted you had rolled your body off her physique and landed beside her. “You looked so pretty fucking me like that,” Ellie worded out and confident, you had sat up with your arms, an encouraging smile embedded on your face.

“Do you still have your strap?” You asked and with a faux-offended look on her face, Ellie clicked her tongue.

“Of course, I do.”

POSITION REFERENCE

ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ 'ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ' ʀɪʟᴇʏ

“You love pissing me off, don’t you doll,” he flared, tightly wrapping his hand around the back of your knee, your arm wrapped around the back of his neck to aid you to be roughly fucked by the tall man who had possessively held you against him, you had a playful smile on your face, content on sending your husband over the edge, your eyes currently doe to his dignity and grace while your cunt had hungrily pulsed around his shaft, your lips snugged behind your teeth as you had loudly whimpered and moaned to his rough and coarse fuck.

Easily drunk off his sex, you had leaned your head backwards, your cheeks rosy and flushed with erotica as your spouse continued to pound his cock so deeply inside your tight cunt. Your closeness sending him into a beastly bawdy lust as he continued to thrust his length upwards, he commenced to tuck his lips against the skin of your neck and shoulders. “You drive me crazy,” he moaned, his dark eyes laced with romantic madness as you aided your fingers to the bud of your pussy, rotating your digits around your clit while your pussy had sweetly soaked his size.

“I love driving you insane,” you whispered before pushing yourself to his lick his tongue, both you hungrily moving towards each other, latching against each other as your mouths had quickly melded with one another, the roughness of the curve of his tip poking and licking the soft texture of your sex while he ardently guided his dick deeper your vagina whilst the heat of his impending climax heated his body, his cock twitching tightly inside of your cunt while your nectar graspingly coated his length.

“Y’know I’d do anything for you, luvie,” he whispered, his eyes potent with anger mixed with thirst. “You know I’d kill for you,” he moaned, his legs then twitching and shivering as he heavily cummed inside your cunt, his balmy semen seeping and coating against your cervix, careful to push as much of his load inside of you, the man had continued to thrust his hips upwards, your toes curling in response as your eyes watered with sex and intimacy. “You love driving me to that point.”

“I don’t know if I should hate that,” he moaned while tightening his grip around you. “Playing with my feelings like this---oh fuck!” He loudly moaned, his second orgasm pushing through, his cum filling your tight area while the bulge of his cock lightly imprinted your stomach.

Moved, you had licked your lower lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gently moved your body with his. Your competitive tastes obsessed with driving you insane, the thought of him handling others in your name had lifted you, while the friction of your fingers guided you to your peeking orgasm, you had pushed your lips against him once more. “I love you,” you moaned, your nectar sheeting around his width, mixing with his juices while you continued to squirt and cum around his cock.

“Shit—I love you too, doll,” he moaned while pulling his length out of your body, you had quickly held onto the table he had fucked you near. Dizzy with the tight and intense orgasm he had put you through, you had sneery smiled at him as you had watched him get to his knees. “Now let me lick my cum out of you.”

POSITIONS REFERENCE

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

The drop-off had went to shit, Tess had been missing and within your thoughts you had believed she had committed herself to another side-quest while pushing both you and Joel to stay in the current crappy apartment you had all currently inhabited; and due to this, you could tell Joel was pissed.

Well pissed off was an understatement to how the man had currently felt but you had understood that your man had wanted a relief, thus you had your second hole roughly ripped open by his girth, your anus wet with your saliva that had once coated his cock after the intense dick-sucking you had gifted the bearded man which had sent Joel to an acute orgasm.

Though, Joel was a man of stamina, he had wanted more, and now he had wrapped his arms around the back of your legs, pressing your back against his chest while fucking you ruthlessly. “Take it like the good girl you are,” he groaned, “Good girl,” he repeated and with your moans over-lapping his comments, you had thorwn your head backwards, mouth opened with un-swallowed saliva as you had attempted to live through his passionate plows.

“Fuck, you’re being so rough on me,” you cried out, snaking your hand towards your untouched pussy, the dew ample and sultry enough for you to easily slip in three fingers, the heavy over-stimulations forcing you to roll your eyes backwards as your walls gripped and twitched around your fingers and his cock.

“Keep doing that imma cum,” he gritted, his voice hoarse as his length began to throb inside your anus while he continued to aid you to bounce on his dick, you could feel your cunt want to spit with your juices.

“More,” you had whined, “I want to feel your hot cum inside of me,” you whimpered while bucking your hips forwards in autopilot. “I want it!” You moaned and satisfied by Joel’s quick turning point, the heat of his load painted and capped your walls just in time before Tess’s knocks echoed on the front door. “Shit,” you had muttered ere slipping yourself off his length, you could then hear Joel scramble onto his feet to pick up his thrown garments.

POSITIONS REFERENCE

ʟᴇᴏɴ ᴋᴇɴɴᴇᴅʏ

As much as you had been stubborn, you had known you always became somewhat of a tramp of Leon’s whenever he had wanted you, you the woman who had loved playing games and as much as you had told each other you were just co-workers, every second away from each other he had lusted for you, yearned for your wetness and touch

Though, as much as he had told himself he wasn’t a jealous man, the view of you being touched by someone else had driven him crazy to the point that, he had set up a faux meeting that had involved just the two of you, you on the other hand had thought you’d meet the rest of the members so when you had entered the meeting room to be met with an upset, Leon, you had taken the imitative to wonder what he had up his sleeve, and what had been the commodity up the fabric had involved the two of you naked.

Carried by his strong arms as he aided you to bounce up and down his thick and long shaft, involved you moaning shamelessly against his ear while your wet hearth had squeezed and throbbed around his size whilst his fingers gripped into the skin of your buttocks, you had felt the curve of his thick tip lick and press the softness of your cunt. “That’s it, baby!” You moaned, the high erotic sting pushing you into a lustful end while you had felt his soft lips press against the skin of your neck.

“Like that?” He reassured biting his lips. “Feel so good, so fucking wet---uh!” He moaned out, his size endlessly throbbing and solid between your warmth, “You’re gonna make me cum so fucking early!” He cried out, his legs weakly shaking as he could feel his cum want to spill and seep and paint the inside of your walls, but just as adamant as you, he had kept in his semen while roughly handling your cunt with his length, the curve of his cock brushing against your heat and pulling you into an obsessive cock-drunk state.

“Yes! Yes!” You moaned, your ambrosia reaching and peeking to its end and sheeting and finishing around his size that had resumed to buck upwards, greedy and hasty to find its own climax, Leon’s eyes dark with lust, he clenched his teeth, finding his strength to bounce your body upwards as he began to milk his cum inside of your body.

Relieved, he had pressed your body against the wall, lifting your figure off his dick as he watched the mixed liquid of both yours and his cum fall out of your body. “So beautiful,” he hummed before taking your mouth with his, deepening the dual passionate affection the two you both proudly and stubbornly shared for each other.

POSITION REFERENCE

ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ

With the vibrating of the toy that he had pushed inside your cunt working its way within you, Levi had lost himself with fucking his cock deep inside your anus, his thick size hastily humping backwards and forwards while the Ackerman had possessively wrapped his firm hands around your waist. With your mouth opened, you had looked back at him, your mouth wide as he continued to fuck you into his bed.

With the sounds of the slapping off his balls hitting your ass, you had watched his steel-like eyes examine how intoxicated you had looked by the help of his length. Teasingly, you had squeezed your hole around his dick, over-stimulated with the buzzing off the toy that hummed against your pearl, instigating you to roll your eyes back whilst you had felt his other hand snake around your throat, possessively pulling you closer against him. “Don’t hold it in---I want everyone to know you’re being fucked by me,” he growled and with his permission your mouth had opened wider, your high-pitched moans vibrating off the walls as the pounding sounds of the bedframe had continued to hit against the wooden walls.

“Oh—Captain!” You wailed, “you’re so deep inside of me, feel so---good---ah!” You moaned, feeling a wave of orgasm wash through you, the bustling of the small toy hopping harder against your overwhelmed clit, your body falling numb within his grasp as he continued to pummel his cock down your ass, his swollen sac pelting against the skin off your ass cheeks while the wetness of both of your sweats continued to meld with each other.

“Moan for me like that, brat---let them know!” He grumbled, “ass so fucking tight around me---brat---oh fuck!” He sobbed, his body shaking as his cock began to shoot out his load, his warm semen piling and filling inside of you, helping him move his body faster between you, his fingers leaving bruises against your skin as he had trouble with pulling his cock out, and when he did the rest of his load spilt against your back, leaving you shaking against the bed.

Your ass still up, you could feel Levi press his lips against your anus before giving it a long lick, cleaning up his mess, sucking and whipping your ass with his mouth and tongue before moving it down your clit, helping your toy send you through another intense and addictive orgasm.

POSITION REFERENCE ONE

POSITION REFERENCE TWO

ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇʀᴏɴᴅᴀʟᴇ

It must’ve been another run in by Gabriel Lightwood, Will was usually someone who won over his disputes, but this time, the Lightwood must’ve hit a sore spot which had Will knocking on your door when everyone was asleep, he was in one of his rare moments, silent, but there had been a look on his face that had granted him access to your room.

He must’ve taken a walk, a walk in the rain in fact, his dark curly hair had been stuck against his skin such as his shirt had clung against his body, without an utter, the boy had already been unbuttoning his shirt while you had closed the door behind the two of you, though, you had not wanted to do anything with him, not without having him speaking first, so you had leaned against your wall. Arms crossed and eyes with slight judgement. “What happened?” You asked as you had watched him peel off his white garment.

With a quick glance you had watched him throw his shirt against the floor, in thought that you would follow after but you hadn’t. Earning a short piercing look from his ocean eyes and as you had returned with a darker glare, you had tightened your grip around yourself. “I’m not going to take off my clothes and lay with you because you want to.”

“You normally do.”

With your eyebrows furrowed you had ended up clicking your tongue in disapproval. “You’re such a dick.”

“I just need you,” he breathed out. “Gabriel---he…he spoke about you---” without allowing him to say another word, you had grasped his face, melding your lips with his while tucking your hand beneath his trousers.

“This will be the last time you come into my room expecting me to fuck you this easily, understand?” You questioned and with a soft nod, the both of you had continued to passionately embrace each other, mouth tight and swollen by your heated combination, while the two of you aided each other to take off each other’s clothes, naked under the long moonlight that had gently seeped through the curtains.

Will, strong and fast had pushed you against the bed, using you to get into the position he had wanted you to be in the second he had left the drawing room he had once shared with Gabriel, his eyes currently furious with lust, the stiff cock of his had gently stroked against the skin of your cunt, the wetness of your hearth easily welcoming him inside of you, the soft yet fiery friction had commenced a moan from both of your mouths, thus you had abruptly squeezed around him as his arm had welcomed around the back of your knee, aiding himself to dive and thrust deeper inside of your cunt.

“Oh fuck,” Will moaned, “fit so well for me,” he moaned as he quickened his pace with his thrusts, each plow filled with anger and erotica and each thrust quicker and rougher than before, leaning your head back in auto-pilot while your moans resumed to sing in his room, aware to feel the embarrassment and walk of shame that would occur the next day, you helped yourself to grind your body against, the tip of his cock circling and embracing the softness of your sex while your juices heavily capped and painted his shaft, his length then slipping in and out carrying him to his orgasm. “Oh [Y/N]!” He cried in adoration, his swollen sac releasing his climax inside of you, his grunts mixing with your high-pitched moans as he continued to move his body forwards.

Your body ridden stiff as you could sense your own climax attempt to spill against your mattress, your eyes locked with his, signalling your turning point, lustful to his encouraging look that had influenced the peak to your capstone, and thus you had relieved yourself, your amrita glazing and layering around his girth and once you had been done, you had rested your body against Will’s, an embarrassed and breathy laughed emitting from the back of your throat as you could feel Will leave your body.

“Charlotte is so going to be mad tomorrow,” you laughed.

POSITION REFERENCE

masterlist

♆

[myocsfanfictions]

THE WRATH OF FIRE

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 8

The rumors surrounding Rhaenyra’s children only got worse when her third child had been born.

Ysilla was now a girl of fifteen. She was very different from the skinny little child that had left Runestone so long ago. People would describe her as elegant, intelligent, and beautiful. She had grown to be graceful, as much as her dragon was. And as Dārysyr, her fierce was known by now. Her dragon had grown large and powerful; his muscles were well-formed, and his wings were strong. Ysilla went flying on Dragonback once a week. She would have liked to do it more, but she had her studies and her duties.

Just a couple of years before, Ysilla had the chance to speak with the Alchemists of King’s Landing, and she had been left very fascinated.

“Vysenia was said to be familiar with dark magic,” she said one day, sitting beneath the Hearth Tree as she observed Aemond practicing combat movements with a stick.

“You want to be Vysenia born again?” He asked, fighting against air.

“Do you think I’d made a fool of myself?” She asked with a little smile as she looked at the boy.

“No,” he answered, turning to her, “I think you are as willed as her. But with the grace of Rhaenys.”

Graceful. Yes. Ysilla had grown up to be very grateful. She knew how to bow, to speak, and to dance. The court was well impressed by her. And from Runestone, her aunt Jeyne was hoping for a good arranging for Ysilla. Not only because she had become very well respected by the people in King’s Landing but also because Queen Alicent seemed to have high expectations from Ysilla. She called her her ward.

“She probably wishes for you to be wed to one of her sons,” that rumor had reached her aunt Jeyne as well. And she seemed pleased by it in her letters. A Royce on the throne.

Ysilla, on the contrary, had no thirst for power. The thought of ambitions and schemes only reminded her of her father and what he had done to be always a step closer to the Iron Throne. But she was not her father.

The lack of personal ambition, though, did not make her blind to politics and schemes. It was because she knew how harmful they could be that she was always vigilant and observant of what happened in court. Fully aware that knowledge and duty were what was required to keep alliances and peace. She had grown up side by side with the Queen, raised by the same people that raised the princes. She knew that the health of the King was faltered, as did the respect some people had for the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms when her children started to grow up to become more similar to the Captain of the Guards than her own husband. Everybody knew, and yet the King did nothing. This had also happened ten years before when her father had killed her mother.

“Are you not coming to the pits?” Aegon asked that morning when they were breaking their fast.

“You heard that right,” she answered, smiling at him before taking a sip of her milk.

“You cannot ditch me like this,” he said, leaning towards her with playful eyes, “I’ve promised you today would have been fun.”

Aegon had grown up, but his search for fun and enjoyment had remained the same. “Helaena wished to dance today. You know how I love her and how I enjoy dancing.”

He cocked his head to a side, “More than riding Dārysyr?” Then his hands moved to touch a strain of her hair, “Did I say how I like your hair today?” Ysilla took his hand to push it away. Aegon had always had a fascination with her hair, and since he had started to grow and notice women, he had begun to voice his compliments on her hair and appearance more often than not.

“I love nothing more than Dārysyr,” she answered, looking at the boy. "And we already flew with him and Sunfyre last week.”

Not so long before, Aegon managed to bend Sunfyre, becoming his dragonrider. Sunfyre was known to be the most beautiful dragon alive, and he really was. He had golden scales and pink shades, and even his flames were golden.

“I wasn’t meant to go fly together,” he said, a mischief light in his eyes.

“What’s with the face?” She asked, making him laugh.

“What face?”

“The one that always brings you trouble,” she answered with a glare. He was planning something. She knew him too well to be mistaken. She didn’t have time to ask because the wooden door opened to let Aemond enter the chamber.

“Good morrow, Aemond,” she greeted him with a smile.

“Ysilla, brother,” he answered shortly. It was how Aemond was, very different from his older brother. He was composed and dutiful. Less impulsive than Aegon was. “Mother is looking for you, Ysilla.” He said, sitting down.

“That’s why you’re not coming. Because of Mother,” Aegon said, making Ysilla turn to him.

“I wasn’t supposed to,” she said, standing up. Her eyes went from one brother to the other. "I’ll see you both when you return from the pit,” then she looked at Aegon.

“Behave.” He blown her a kiss.

“Like always, my sweet.”

“Stop that,” Aemond said, focusing his attention on the plate in front of him. Ysilla ignored Aegon, making her way towards the door. She wondered why the Queen wanted to see her. Ysilla knew she would have been busy with Rhaenyra after the princess’s labor ended and the third of her children would be born. Rhaenyra had been screaming for hours, and Ysilla stopped to observe the corridor that led to her chambers on her way to the Queen. By the screams, she seemed to be suffering very much. That made her anxious. She knew that it was a woman’s duty to give children to her husband. She just hoped the gods had mercy for them and an easy way to bring life to the world.

“Princess,” Ser Cole was guarding the door, bowing his head as she walked closer.

“Good morrow, Ser,” she answered politely. “I hope your day has been good so far.”

The man smiled, “It is, Princess.” His smile would have made her blush just a few years before. But the more she grew up, the less embarrassing it became to share words with men, even handsome men such as Ser Criston.

When Ysilla entered the chamber, the Queen was standing next to the window, and a serving girl was fixing the back of her dress.

“My Queen,” she greeted, bowing. “Have you asked for me?”

“Good morrow, my dear,” Alicent Hightower smiled kindly at her, “Indeed. Helaena is a little... agitated today."

Helaena had stayed the same in those years. She was still the sweetest girl that Ysilla had ever met. Sweet and gentle. But her queer behavior sometimes agitated even herself. Ysilla had seen Helaena in those moments, and she knew that the princess didn't like to be alone when she was feeling like that.

"We'll find something else to do then," Ysilla answered. They could have taken a walk or talked about bugs. Helaena liked bugs. Ysilla would have found something to ease Helaena's mind.

The Queen smiled at her, putting a hand on her arm. "What a blessing you are." Ysilla returned the gesture, bowing her head in gratitude and respect.

At that moment, the door behind them opened to reveal Rhaenyra and Laenor. Ysilla widened her eyes to see her cousin.

"Rhaenyra," the Queen gasped, "You should be resting after your labors."

"I have no doubt that you would prefer that, Your Grace," Rhaenyra answered, trying to keep her trembling voice steady. The pain that she had experienced was well visible on her face, and it was not surprising.

Ysilla had heard Rhaenyra screaming only a few moments before. She knew what happened during labor, and the septa had explained that to her. How could her cousin possibly walk? Or even walking up the stairs?

"You must sit," the Queen said, turning to one of her serving girls, "Talya, fetch a cushion for the Princess.” The girl bowed and turned to attend Rhaenyra.

“There’s no need,” Rhaenyra said. By the Queen insisted.

Ysilla followed Alicent as they walked towards the couple. Rhaenyra had finally accepted sitting down with Laenor's help, but seeing her in pain and holding her newborn baby, Ysilla felt like moving so that she could help her cousin sit. As the girl touched her arm, the Princess turned to look at her. A small smile appeared on her lips, probably still trying to hide her pain. It was well-known how stubborn Rhaenyra was.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“There’s no need,” Ysilla answered, then exchanging a look with the Queen.

Alicent was observing the baby like she had done with Lucerys just a few years before. Ysilla knew what she was thinking: even this child had nothing of Ser Laenor in him.

As Ysilla went back to stand next to the Queen, King Viserys entered the chamber with a huge smile on his face. “What happy news this morning,” he exclaimed.

The years had not been gentle to the King. His body was weaker and more fragile. His skin had gotten paler and his hair thinner. The condition of his left hand had gotten worse. He first lost just three fingers, but it kept getting worse until the Maester decided that it was better to cut off the entire arm. Even so, Ysilla’s uncle tried to maintain a positive attitude, always smiling at everyone.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” said Ser Leanor, taking the child in his arms to present him to the King. Ysilla observed Rhaenyra’s husband’s face as he looked at the baby. He smiled happily and proudly. Could he really be so blind? He had never seemed such a man to Ysilla. It was true, though, that he was not very present as a father.

He is more present than mine, anyway. She thought as she observed the unbothered son of Corlys Velaryon pass the child to the King. But even in his expression, Ysilla could not see surprise or disappointment. She could not understand why both men acted so blindly about the behavior of the future Queen? Why did her actions have no repercussions? Everybody knew, everybody whispered. And yet the King did nothing.

He must truly love her, if he is protecting her like that. Ysilla thought, observing the happiness on Viserys’ face.

“A fine Prince,” he said, his eyes looking at every one of them. Ysilla smiled, lowering her eyes. “Sturdy. You will make a fearsome knight.”

Surely, Ysilla thought. If the rumors were true and his father was Ser Harwin Strong, he surely could have become a terrific fighter as an adult. Breakbone was the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

“Does the babe have a name yet?” The Queen asked with curiosity.

Rhaenyra took a breath, “We haven’t spoken-”

“Joffrey.” Ser Leanor interrupted his wife. “He’ll be called Joffrey.”

Ysilla looked between them, hoping that her face did not give away the kind of thought she had in mind. Had they spoken of it or not? Did Rhaenyra agree with such a name?

“An unusual name for a Velaryon.” The Queen was speaking the truth. Velaryon came from Valyria as much as the Targaryens. Their names came from Old Valyria to keep the traditions. But it wasn’t only their costume: in the Seven Kingdoms, all the Noble Houses had names and family names. Ysilla’s name was a Royce name. Her mother, Lady Rhea, had done it on purpose. Ysilla’s father could be a Targaryen, but she had Royce’s blood in her veins as well.

“I do believe he has his father’s nose,” Ysilla would have frowned at the King’s words, but she had to keep her composure, so she decided to look at Rhaenyra and smile at her. The Princess did the same, but there was no truth behind that gesture. They were both aware of what was happening.

The King chuckled, still focused on Joffrey, and soon after, Laenor did the same before clearing his throat.

“If you don’t mind, Your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest,” Ser Laenor said, ready to help his wife get on her feet.

“Of course,” the King answered. The Queen was soon at his side, taking Joffrey in her hands. Ysilla moved aside when she saw the King walking closer to his daughter, but she didn’t walk very far, curious about what they would have talked about.

“Well done, my girl,” Viserys said with tenderness. Such a tone forced Ysilla to lower her eyes, fully aware that her father would never have such sweetness for her. If she’ll ever see him again. She knew that he was an Essos with his lady wife and their two twin daughters. She wondered how he was fathering them. If he was cold and cruel like he had been to her so long ago. Ten years had passed, and yet she remembered the way he had looked at her as he said that he felt nothing for his firstborn daughter.

“I do hope the labor was easy,” the King said as Ysilla walked towards the Queen, who was giving the baby back to Ser Leanor.

“Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Sooner or later, you may get one that looks like you.” She had said it so politely, but her intentions were quite clear—she was voicing the thoughts of the entire court. The man looked startled, and when he noticed Ysilla standing there, she didn’t say anything. She only smiled, with no true intention behind it.

Rhaenyra then walked towards her husband before they both left the chamber. Ysilla bowed gracefully as they disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.

“What a happy day,” the King exclaimed full of happiness.

The Queen lowered her eyes from next to him. “Indeed, my love,” she answered.

The whole situation was against everything that politics and duty required. Ysilla could understand why her uncle was protecting his daughter, but her King was making a fool of himself. And whispers could only get louder and louder, not only against Rhaenyra but against the King as well. He was not only Rhaenyra’s father; he was the Protector of the Realm, of the peace of the Realm. How would the realm answer once the King had left that world? What was ahead of them? That uncertainty was heavy in her heart. Politics could be ruthless, and it could reclaim anyone’s life.

“You wanted to dance, I’m sorry,” Helaena was saying as they walked in the corridors of the Red Keep.

“Nonsense, Helaena,” she answered honestly. The events of that morning had left little room for light emotions in her heart. “I don’t feel like dancing today.”

“Running from the back is important,” her cousin said. Ysilla turned to observe her. It didn’t matter how many years they had known each other; Helaena’s strange sentences left Ysilla confused all the time. She knew better than to ask. Helaena didn’t know how to explain the meaning of her words, and the more people asked her to, the more she got agitated. That was one of those days. One where Ysilla stood quiet, listening to all the strange things her cousin felt to say. She loved Helaena, but on those days, the hours went on slowly.

I wish I was at the Dragonpit, she thought. Ysilla wished nothing more than to be with Dārysyr, especially during days that felt so heavy in her heart.

They were back in Helaena’s chamber when the Queen arrived. Ysilla was set next to her cousin, who was very interested in counting the rings of a centipede. They have been there long. And Ysilla decided to take one of the many books that she had in her chamber to keep herself occupied until Helaena was satisfied with her counting. When the Queen entered, Ysilla was ready to stand up and bow, but the woman gestured for her to sit still and keep with her reading.

“This one has sixty rings and two pairs of legs on each, ” Helaena whispered, looking closer at the centipede, “It makes two-hundred-twenty-four.”

“Yes, it is,” the Queen said in a soft tone, even if her expression could not hide her worry. It was difficult to communicate with Helaena when she acted like that. They had to be patient.

“It has eyes,” the girl spoke, looking closely at the creature in her hand.

“Does he?” Ysilla asked, keeping reading her book.

Helaena muttered in agreement, “Though, I don’t believe it can see.” Ysilla looked at her with a confused frown.

“And why is that so, do you think?” Asked the Queen.

“It is beyond our understanding.”

Beyond mine, for sure, Ysilla thought at her cousin’s words. Those were too much of abstract concepts for her mind. She liked history better.

“I suppose you’re right,” the Queen answered. Some things just are.” As she finished speaking, though, the door opened to reveal Aemond. Ysilla put aside her book. Her eyes widened, seeing how dirty his face and clothes were.

“Aemond,” the woman gasped, walking to her son, “What have you done?”

“He did it again.” Ysilla stood up after Helaena’s words. He must have entered the Dragonpit. That place was dangerous for someone without a dragon, and Aemond was the only one of them without one. Dragons bend only to one person, and when they did, they will only listen to their rider. They could become very dangerous for anyone else. But Aemond had always been very fascinated by dragons. The pain in his eyes was always visible when they went to the Dragonpit.

Ysilla could understand him. She had been fascinated, too, before Dārysyr’s egg hatched. Being a Targaryen without a dragon hurt a lot.

“After how many times you’ve been warned,” the Queen reproved him, “Must I have you confined to your chambers?”

“They made me do it!” Aemond argued angrily. Who made him do it? Ysilla moved forward, feeling for her cousin. He truly seemed so upset. What had happened? But the Queen didn’t seem to share Ysilla’s same thoughts.

“As if you needed encouragement,” the woman said, worryingly observing her son to be sure he was not harmed. "Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.” When she spoke like that, the Queen truly reminded Ysilla of her mother's skepticism about dragons.

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond exclaimed. Ysilla’s eyes widened.

“A what?” The Queen asked in confusion.

“They said they found a dragon for me. But it was a pig!” Aemond answered, trembling with anger.

I’ve promised you today would have been fun. Aegon had said to her that morning. He was behind it. Ysilla could not believe it. He knew how Aemond suffered since he was the only one without a dragon. Even Rhaenyra’s sons had one each, but not Aemond, a son of a King. How could he be so stupid to do that to his own brother?

“You will have a dragon one day,” Alicent said trying to calm her son, “I know it.”

Aemond deserved a dragon. It was saddening to know that his egg hadn’t hatched. He had asked Ysilla many times how she did it as they grew up, but she truly wasn't sure how or why. Dārysyr was just born one day. It had been a very normal day. But Aemond’s didn’t, and it was not fair. Why did the Gods play such games?

Aemond lowered his gaze, “They all laughed.”

And why did the Gods make Aegon to be such an idiot?

_____________________________________________________________

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[augustinewrites]

based on this

your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair. 

“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness…”

“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”

the comment about his…colourful past  goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be…intense.”

“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.” 

of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent. 

“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”

“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.” 

his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.” 

“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”

______

business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush. 

you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table 

“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand. 

you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”

the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.

“father!”

“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”

wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave. 

“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened. 

wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”

“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”

_____

sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.

nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law. 

“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”

wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”

“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”

both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.

“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”

she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.

“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”

“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”

it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'était une promesse.” 

[satanicpagan]

Offering Ideas for Deities

─── ⋆⋅⚝⋅⋆ ───

Fire Offerings:

Charcoal

black salt

herb ashes

images/symbolism of sun or hearth

spicy foods

Red poppies

Spicy/strong-smelling herbs (Cinnamon, Chili, Pepper, Cloves, Ginger, Wormwood, Asfoetida)

Rosemary

sunflowers

marigold

dragons blood

calendula

herbs that sting or irritate the skin (Stinging Nettle, Holly, Cedar, Mace)

Protective herbs/crystals

red crystals

incense

cauldron

Earth Offerings:

Any herbs

plants

flowers

rocks you find

protective crystals

obsidian

amethyst

onyx

garnet

sticks/bark/branches

bones

images/symbols of earth, Gaia, mother earth, flowers, plants

most food offerings

fruits/vegetables

bread

rice

milk/water/tea

dried herbs/flowers

Water Offerings:

moon water

rain water

clear quartz

jasmine

mugwort

lily

willow

nettle

violet

lavender

perfume

essential oils

seashells

beach sand

florida water

symbols and imagery of water, ocean, fish, rain, the birth of Venus, etc.)

blue/transparent crystals

air humidifier

Air Offerings:

smoke cleansing

sound cleansing

feathers

incense

light fabrics

white/light/transparent crystals

dandelion fluffs

essential oils

essential oil diffuser

Athame

bird bones

meditations

breath mindfulness

moths

butterflies

Most Deities have one or more elemental associations and this can help you with finding some offerings! Remember, every offering is unique to you and your energy and actions, outfits, songs, writing, and art can be offerings as well!

[sweetbunpura]

*Yuu explaining Christmas to Rollo*

Rollo, hiding behind his handkerchief and narrowing his eyes: So, an old man breaks into your home via the chimney, steals some sweets and some milk, and in return he leaves "gifts" under a tree and in stockings hanging on the hearth for the children of the home? A man that is apparently watching childrens' every movement to see if they've been "naughty" or "nice" and keeps a list of all of these children? Yuu, my love, forgive me if I say, I would not trust this man within five feet of any child.

Yuu: Ok, I know it can seem weird when framed like that, but Santa is just a story! He isn't real!

Rollo, snorts: Yes, but it is a story that can make children almost automatically trust a home intruder during the winter season if they have a white beard and claim to have gifts for them. Surely you can see just how dangerous that is?

Yuu: Rolls, it's a holiday. You don't need to overthink it..

Rollo, glaring up at the elf on the shelf sitting on the bookshelf: And I do not trust his surveillance "elves" either. He looks far to innocent.

Yuu, offended gasp: Don't diss my boy Jeffery like that Rolls!

Yuu: If Santa weirds you out, then learning about Krampus would be the next thing.

Rollo: Krampus?

Yuu: He's a half demon, half goat monster that punishes kids into being good....and in some interpretations, he eats kids.

Rollo: ....

Yuu, looks over to see Gidel and Grim looking at them in horror.

Gidel, signs: We get eaten!?

Grim: We don't get presents!?

Yuu, laughs and waves her hand: You guys don't have to worry about that! Santa isn't real.....Hey Bones!

Skully, pokes head into room while wearing a halloween christmas sweater: Yes?

Yuu: When you were with Jack...did you see a fat guy in a red coat?

Skully, frowns: Yeah...but he doesn't hold a candle to Jack!

Yuu: ....Shit, Santa's real.

Rollo: Board up everything!

Fellow, walks in holding a pot of soup and in an apron: What is happening?

Yuu: This is my own fault....

[loftyangel]

[vanfleeter]

Tangled In The Blankets

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ || Fluff. Cozy Jake. Smut. Dry humping. Oral sex (f receiving). Penetrative sex. Cockblocking.

🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️

Tonight is the perfect fall night.

The air is chilly accompanied with the light rain that drizzles. The whole house is swallowed in darkness except for the living room. Candles are scattered around the room, flickering and illuminating the room in a dull, orange glow. A cozy and comfortable feel for the night.

A fire flickers in the hearth. The sound of the fire crackling mixes with the breathy moans of both you and Jake.

After a long day of work for the both of you, Jake made the decision to have a quiet and relaxing evening, and he knew just the way to wind down. So when you came home, you found the house darkened and the soft glow from the living room beckoning you.

It started with a quiet dinner around the coffee table, consisting of a warm bowl of soup, a new recipe that Jake had found on the internet. Then following the soup, was a comforting mug of hot cocoa made from those hot cocoa bombs. Inside them were mini marshmallows and little Halloween sprinkles. He would watch you with a small smile on his face as you watched the hot cocoa bomb rotate in the warm milk before melting and releasing all of its contents. He chuckles when you squeal seeing the little sprinkles inside.

“There’s little pumpkins!” You exclaim as you look closer, your nose nearly touching the warm liquid inside the mug.

Sitting on the floor against the coffee table and sipping on the hot cocoa, Jake started to touch you. First it began with his hand resting on your knee as he leaned closer and pressed his lips to your cheek, causing your cheeks to just slightly flush red. He slowly trails his hand up your knee and he gently squeezes your thigh making you squeak and your body jolt, nearly spilling your hot cocoa. He smiles against your cheek, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he opens his mouth just a little to kiss you again. You let him remove the mug from your hand and he sets it on the table beside his before he pulls you onto his lap.

His lips brush yours before he fully presses in and he kisses you. His hands move from your thighs and around to your butt. He gives them a light squeeze making you smile against his lips. The small movement of your hips has you grinding against his crotch. He groans, mentally cursing himself for choosing to wear such a thin pair of linen pants. But in this moment, he embraces it and pushes you back down again against his hardening bulge.

You knew he had this planned out when he laid you on the floor that was already covered with blankets and pillows.

He takes his time undressing as he does himself, and leaving gentle kisses along your body. He loves you softly as he makes his way down your body. His thumbs rub circles on your inner thighs as he makes a connection with your aching core. You feel his tongue gently dance through your folds and you can’t contain that moan that escapes you.

He licks through your folds again before thrusting his tongue inside of you. You writhe beneath him as he becomes relentless, fucking you with his tongue and bringing you crashing into your first orgasm. He laps up all of your release and crawls back up your body.

All while he had been orally fucking you, neither of you realized that the rain had picked up and was turning into a storm until you saw a flash of light from outside the living room window. Jake took no notice of it as he positioned himself between your legs. He only acknowledged it when he pushed inside of you as thunder rumbled outside.

“I guess we’re just that powerful together..” He says with a wink. You can’t help but laugh at his feeble attempt at a joke.

He sits inside of you, completely filling you, and kisses you before he slowly starts to move, first pulling out with just his tip inside and then pushing fully back inside. He keeps it slow for a little bit, feeling every single bit of you.

You’ve wrapped your arms around his back and your legs are twisted around his waist giving him an easier access to you as well as a way to push himself deeper. Your moans are sweet and airy and he absorbs everything one of them.

You take him by surprise when you clench your thighs around his body and use your strength to roll the two of you over, allowing you to be on top. His head lays perfectly against the pillows, his long locks splayed out around his head.

“Was I not doing enough?” He says with a smirk.

“No..” You smile as you keep the steady pace going, rising and falling around his length as he meets you in your descent with a thrust of his hips.

You were nearing your end, your walls clenching around his length. “That’s it, baby..” He says, digging his fingers into your hips. He wasn't quite there yet but he wanted you to find yours again.

Oh how he loves to watch your face twist and contort as the pleasure fills your body. The way you bite your lip as a little squeak emmits from your throat. And when you finish, he flips the two of you back over. Seeing how tight the blankets have come with all the movement, he finds it hard to do much so he pins you to your stomach on the floor and fucks you from behind. His body is completely stretched on top of yours. Your back is arched just over so slightly so that he has the right angle to thrust himself inside.

You can feel his hands wash down your arms as he hands come down to hold yours, your fingers interlocked together. His warm breath cascades down your neck with every thrust he gives. You’re still sensitive from the first two orgasms that he gave you, making your third approach rapidly.

He peppers the back of your neck with kisses as he picks up his speed. He twitches within you, signaling his impending orgasm.

“Baby.. I can’t hold on any…longer..”

You turn your head to the side and he captures you in a kiss as you both come to your own releases. He sloppily kisses you again, refusing to remove himself from inside of you.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he moves your hair across your back and kisses your shoulder. You nod your head, giving him a lazy smile and he chuckles.

Finally he removes himself from inside you and does his best to twist his body inside the blankets to lay beside you. You turn on your side, giving him more space but he only pulls you closer. He brushes your hair behind your ear and softly caresses your face in his hand. Another strike of lightning flashes followed by a dull thunk from inside the house. “I guess the powers out,” Jake laughs.

“That’s okay,” You say as you snuggle into his chest. “We don’t need it right now.”

He smiles and tilts his head to kiss you. “I hope I did good tonight.” He says, drawing little shapes on your skin.

“Better than good,” You say as you slide your leg over his hip. “I love nights like this.. Slow and relaxing–we haven't done this in a while.”

“No, we haven’t,” He says. “And I’m sorry for that.”

You shake your head before kissing him. “Don’t ever apologize. You’ve been working hard and I am proud of you.”

The two of you became absorbed in each other again that you didn’t notice anyone coming inside the house until Josh clears his throat. Jake nearly jumps out of his skin and turns over to look at him.

“What the hell, Josh?!” He exclaims. “You can’t just barge in here like that! Did you even knock?”

“Uh yeah,” Josh says. “I knocked and I rang the doorbell.. But clearly now I can see that I’m interrupting something.”

“Very much so..” Jake growls through his teeth.

“Well I lost power so I thought I’d come over here.”

“We don’t have power either,” Jake says.

“Yes you do,” Josh says matter-of-factly as he leaves the living room. “Porch light is on!” He calls from the kitchen. “Ooo! Soup!”

“Josh–” Jake begins, but you stop him.

“No, it’s okay.” You say. “Let him eat some.”

“Well this relaxation lasted as long as it did,” He grumbles.

You giggle and lean over to kiss him. “Come on, let’s get dressed.” Jake groans and falls over onto his back. “Maybe when he leaves, we can resume where we left off..” You whisper in his ear.

“Why don’t we just continue now?” He whispers back as he pulls on top of him. “He’ll be so grossed out that he’ll have no choice but to leave.”

“Come on, Jake. Be a little hospitable.”

Jake huffs a breath. “Fine..”

🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️

@losfacedevil @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @ignite-my-fire @jordinlkiszka @hollyco @earthgrlsreasy @dancingcarbon @josh-iamyour-mama @katiegvf @oliverfuckingreed @cheersdannyx2 @piratejtk @takenbythemadness

Add yourself to the tag list! Link in the master list!

[targaryen-dynasty]

AEMOND TARGARYEN.

Mini-Series.

Love Me Tomorrow (aka Stay) and Love Me Now (aka Mine) -> completed (Modern AU)

"You always thought the benefits part of being friends with benefits only included sex, but with Aemond it also seemed to include cuddling and life advice. "

The Devil You Know -> hiatus (Modern AU)

"King's Landing is haunted by an ongoing feud between two rivaling biker groups, and somehow you get stuck right in the middle of it — if it wasn't for a certain blonde, who everyone warns you to stay away from. Of course, he's part of Dracarys, the rivaling biker gang, and staying away from him is a lot harder than it seems."

Object of Desire -> ongoing

"A raven from King‘s Landing has reached Runestone two moons ago, bidding for you to come to the capital though no distinct reason has been stated. The signature of your father below didn‘t give Ser Gerold any other choice than to get you ready and send you off, knowing he could not deny Daemon Targaryen. You quickly learn that the time has come for you to find a husband, however, the true object of your desire isn‘t the one your father has intended for you."

One Shots.

Depravities

"When your husband feels overwhelmed reining in the stead of the severely wounded King, it is your duty as his wife to comfort him."

Sinful Revenge (x Aegon)

"After catching Aegon with a servant girl between his legs, you found a way to put him back in his place."

A Caution for Young Girls

"Can we just ride Aemond by the hearth? Tis all. He can brat tame us, be mean, be nice..whatever honestly." Yeah, we definitely can! This is the first time you’re riding your Dragon.

In The Space Between (Modern AU) -> drabble

"You we’re happy your friend Floris got to marry her longtime boyfriend Aegon… if it wasn't for the sake of you being the plus one of her groom’s brother and also your ex boyfriend, Aemond."

Lechery

"Based on the request: "Can you write a jealosy Dom Aemond when his wife his dance and have fun with Jace at the dinner. So he put her on his knees and punish her, after that he fuck and give orgasms to show at who she belongs.""

Longing (Modern AU)

"Based on the request: "Can I please request modern Aemond x best friend reader smut? They are watching some movie or TV series together and suddenly some steamy scene happens on the screen and he notices that she is turned on by that? And he is like "if you want to experience it I can help you with it?""

And Now I See Daylight

"The pace was slow, just like it had been throughout the whole night, and despite it being unsaid, you both knew that was not what this night was about. It was about your unity, making peace with your past and embracing your future together."

Rewrite The Stars

“Aemond arrives at your betrothed‘s funeral. And after being denied your hand in marriage once, he does not come to leave without you.“

Serenity

“With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a little bit longer.“

Can You Stay Up All Night?

"Even after the babe had settled, you didn’t find any sleep. And while your breasts hadn’t felt too uncomfortable back then, they did now. They were heavy, hard to the touch and full of milk, desiring relief from their overstuffed state."

Pray For Me

“Trying to persuade you to declare yourself for their side in the war of succession, Aemond relies on different methods to make your façade crumble.“

Mine And Mine Only

“Aemond has gotten you pregnant six months ago, and seeing him with his infant niece during dinner with his family sparks something inside of you only he can satisfy.“

The Devil's Advocate

“Will the tormenting craving of your body for physical touch finally be stilled by the hands of none other than the man who‘s responsible for whether you‘ll live or die?“

Rumble and Sway

"After the set of your favorite punk rock band ended, you haven’t expected to bump shoulders with none other than their bassist, Aemond Targaryen. And you least expected him to usher you into a private booth after what felt like your twentieth shot of vodka."

What the Heart Desires

"Both of Helaena’s brothers have always been forbidden territory for you, the rule established by your best friend at the very beginning, and you’ve never really regarded any of them – until you’ve been all but coaxed to team up with Aemond for a round of beer pong. "

To Stoke a Flame

"There’s a moment of silence between you, and your hands clutch the handle of the pail tight enough for your knuckles to blanch from the force. It’s unnerving, and you’re torn between wanting to stay and wanting to leave. You’re afraid he’s not the man you’ve made up in your mind, that there’s just a hint of truth in the rumors that make their way around staff and court."

A Dragon to Share

"For a fortnight, you’ve been spending your nights with Aemond and Aegon. But what happens, if there’s yet another uncalled visitor joining you? Improper revelations lead to the fulfilling of a long-buried desire of yours."

Evening Delights

"Based on the prompt: “So… Do you actually like me—” “We have been together for seven years. We’re getting married next year. What the hell do you think?”"

Shadows Play on Idle Hands

"Sharing a cabin with your ex-husband as you supervise your daughter's summer camp, you didn't think that remembering the good old times would bring you closer again."

The Curse of Curiosity

"While your brother searches the library of the Dragonkeeper Elder for something new to read, you come in contact with some unlabeled fluid. You both learn that it's something meant to aid in the breeding of dragons, however, it also has a unique effect on humans. But lucky for you, your twin is there to help you through the ordeal."

Dragon Dreams

“Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares. But you and your husband both know you’re not gifted with such abilities.“

Forbidden Temptation

"Two moons after the birth of your precious son, your moonblood has returned as severe as never before. And being the ever caring and loving husband, Aemond takes it upon himself to help you ease the pain."

Steam That Lingers

"Your mind has been a mess for the past moon's turn, and you have the man you’ve entrusted with all your secrets for all of your life to thank for that. And the last thing you expect when you walk into your bathing chambers late at night is said man sitting in the bathtub, awaiting your return. Will you give in or will your temper get the worst of you?"

The Greatest Temptation

"Keeping your boyfriend waiting for too long is always a dangerous game, and when he finally has enough, he deems it most fitting to give your audience a real show."

A Little Predicament (x Aegon II Targaryen)

"While you share little sympathy with any of the people present, you know you can’t get any closer to learning about your heritage than you are right now. Aegon and Aemond are served to you on a silver platter, and if there is one thing your grandmother has taught you, it’s that there certainly is one way to charm yourself into a man’s heart to get what you desire."

Violent Delights

MASTERLIST NAVIGATION.

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty-Four

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Apologies for the wait. Life hasn't slowed down for me at all. As soon as I was finally in a good place physically and mentally, I got into a car accident. I'm okay. I didn't get hurt, and neither did the other person, but my car was totaled. I've been dealing with the insurance, and the head of household on the insurance could have been better in assisting me. It has not been fun. As always, thank you for your patience, and happy reading!

Chapter Warnings: drugging, mentions of miscarriage, Ser Criston Cole, we have an unhealthy relationship w/ our father.

The world around you was peaceful as you sank further into the throes of poppy milk. Candles softly hummed with the drafts that swept through the Keep, wood settled, and the fire within the hearth cracked. You did not have to think or feel anything other than the tincture slowly seeping into your marrow. Everything was calm and serene as your eyelids hung low, the orange glow of the flames blurry in your eyesight.

Jeyne sat on one of the lavish armchairs, a needle, and thread in her fist as she hemmed one of the summer dresses she had been putting off. You watched as her wrinkled hands worked, following the pattern of a blind hem stitch as she pulled the thread up and down in a hypnotic, steady rhythm. The shadows danced across her fingers with each tug, pulling you further and further into a deep trance.

Your cramps became a dull thudding in your back due to the milk, but the bleeding hadn't stopped, soaking through layers of fabric and onto your fresh bed sheets. Maester Orwyle warned that you would continue passing clots in the coming days and recommended that, along with wearing thicker, small clothes, you apply heat to your back and abdomen until the pain is gone. You chuckled at the thought, finding it ironic that the only remedies a man of medicine had were things your mother taught you, but followed them nevertheless.

Hours passed into the night, the wolf's hour gradually approaching, yet you never slept a wink. It was as if you were in a realm between the unconscious and conscious mind, awake yet unaware simultaneously. Jeyne had fallen victim to her body despite being ordered to keep watch. Her head hung low, and her chin tucked into her rising chest as she snored.

It was uncertain when your body came back to life. Your eyes opened as you scanned the dim room around you. The wind whistled into the night as you gazed out an iron-paned window, mouth thick. It felt like a thousand tiny insects crawled within your skin, tickling your muscles and sending shivers up your spine. The sensation is unwelcomed but not unpleasant, causing you to rise from your warm blankets and pace across your chambers.

You stumbled at first, knees crashing into the stone floor with a dull thud. Quickly, your head snapped to Jeyne, ears rushing with blood at the abrupt movement. Thank the Seven, the maid was still fast asleep, undisturbed by your grunts and hisses as you rose to unsteady feet again.

The floor ebbed and waved in your vision, your bones feeling like marble, vibrating with every step you took as you searched the plethora of the Maester's supplies for water, downing it in one greedy gulp. The world around you was still calm, a hue of yellow blanketing across your chambers as you listened to your audible breaths.

Longing pulled at your soul as your eyes fell upon your rumpled sheets. It reminded you of times not so long ago when you shared unbridled intimacy with the one you loved, a wistful smile on your chapped lips as you replayed the moments in your mind's eye. You couldn't understand why Alicent chose now to tear Aegon away from you. Could she not see the good you brought with him? Why did she not stop it sooner if she did not want you to grow as close to him as you had? Was the Queen indeed so cruel that she would tear away her son's only source of happiness simply because it no longer benefited her?

Alicent had created an impenetrable bond between two souls and now sought to destroy it, but oaths made of loyalty and love were hard to sever.

You were sure guards were posted outside your doors to stop you or Aegon from seeking one another, and the thought caused you to grimace. There were other ways to see each other, and you prayed that the Queen had not been wise enough to bar both. You did not desire to cause fuss or quarrels.

You needed to see him. That's all it was.

Gradually, you made your way to one of the numerous secret passages in the Keep, unbothered with the state of your being. No shoes nor gown covering was worn as your bare feet pattered over the dank passages. Though you did not emit your goal aloud, your muscles understood where to go as if the string of fate connecting two lovers' souls, bound together like the hands of marriage, pulled you toward one another. Shuffling your naked soles across the dirt-ridden path, you knew the way to Aegon's wing like the skills of the sword, not requiring a light as you advanced.

There was not a pathway directly to his chamber, or at least not one he or you had found, but thankfully, a small portion of the trek was a less traveled corridor until you reached Aegon's room.

Your sanity retreated, imagining joyful days filled with the sun's blinding rays atop Cannibal, the wind caressing your cheeks. The sticky, viscous sensation of blood running down your thighs was not a thought as those memories replayed, your limbs moving on their own.

The tender, yellow glow of torchlight came into view, reeling your body back into consciousness as the silhouette of a guard appeared. Ser Erryk caught you before you did him, rooted into his post, as he observed your shuffled gait with a curious expression. The smeared blood trail behind you caused his brows to arch in concern as you approached, the scent of smoke and something floral wafting in the air around you.

"Princess," Ser Erryk exclaimed, allowing himself to move a few paces forward. "You mustn't be here. The Queen said you were abed."

Giggling, you stopped before him, amused at the notion that the same person who forced milk of the poppy down your throat was concerned for your health. "Is that what she said?" you jeered halfheartedly. "I am confident that is not the only thing she expressed, as you are not immediately allowing me past those doors."

Your tongue felt like lead as you spoke, forcing your clouded mind to think twice as hard to get the words out.

Erryk stiffened, armor clanking in anxiety as he threw swift glances to the sides. His lips scrunched with indecision, battling an internal war with duty and compassion as you sway to the rhythm of your slowly beating heart.

"You are not permitted to see Prince Aegon, by her majesty's order, and he you," he admitted with a noiseless sigh as if this was as difficult for him as it was for you. You flashed the knight a countenance of pity, understanding the humanity within him conflicted with the soldier, fighting to be free. 

"Did she tell you what happened, Ser Erryk?" you questioned airily, your eyelids suddenly becoming increasingly heavy. With all your might, you hoped that your words would sway him, quickly sparing a glance down the path of your essence.

"His Highness explained to me the attack on your life and that my brother was sent to the Black Cells for failure of duty," he admitted. You could feel the pointed way his words meant, angered at what he felt was an injustice for Ser Arryk.

"He's imprisoned?" you asked, face wrinkled with worry. "I will see at once that he is back in his bed. Your brother was upset with me, but he did nothing wrong."

You could not feel the concern that you indeed should in a situation like this—an innocent man punished for someone else's sins. You could not feel anything except for the serenity that blanketed your being. You wished you could always be like this. Eternally calm, incapable of anxiety, anger, or sadness, and in the back of your mind, it worried you.

"Thank you, Princess," Erryk bowed, his back ramrod straight. "Prince Aegon confided the attempt on your life and the consequences of it. The death of a child is something more profound than any knight could endure. You have my condolences."

Your breath hitched, lashes fluttering. The memory of your agony, the cramping, the blood, the screams of a babe torn from their mother's womb echoed in your skull like an agonizing symphony. You focused on your steady pulse, pulling yourself back under the comforting spell of the poppy.

For just a while longer, you did not want to feel.

"Then you understand why I must see Aegon." Your declarations were too sober for one under the influence, and your nose began to itch, disarming Erryk as his internal war raged. "I have yet to experience the comfort of grief in the company of a loved one, Ser. The Queen took that from me," you voiced, your words becoming unsteady and rambled. "I am alone in this place. I do not have a mother or father from whom I can seek guidance. I have no true friends. Only political allies surround themselves with me because of obligation. I have Aegon, and that is it."

The confession slipped past your lips before you realized your voice was speaking, mouth thick with unobstructed emotion. "So, please, Ser. I pray you. Allow me to see him."

The battle between warrior and compassion ended, the goodness within Ser Erryk prevailing over duty as he pursed his lips, a sheen in his eye. You realized that was the difference between the two brothers, and perhaps you aligned yourself with the wrong choice. One was bound to serve the realm with a blind eye, not questioning commands no matter their inhumane contents under the guise of duty. The other was as much a devout servant to those he followed, yet he allowed his conscience to guide him in his actions instead of unseeing obedience.

You could feel the blood collecting at your feet, seeping into the cracks of the flagstone floor and staining the hem of your nightdress. It was as if Erryk could sense it too, blue orbs flicking down to the small crimson puddle on the ground, swallowing audibly as the groaning walls creaked in the silence. He opened the stalwart oak doors to Aegon's chamber, wordlessly bidding you in. You sent him a grateful look as you entered, promising to yourself that you would not let the milk of the poppy make you forget his kindness.

Aegon's bed chamber was unlit except for a handful of half-melted candles scattered haphazardly about the area, emitting a subtle yellow glow to the miscellaneous items discarded on the floor. Your lover was not in his usual spot, draped lazily on his sheets like a stretched cat, nor was he at the lavish furniture in front of the crackling fire. It wasn't until you heard the telltale sounds of hiccuping breath, a loud sniff, and a bone-shuddering sob that you turned.

Aegon stood in the same attire you recalled at the farthest corner of his room on the full-length windowsill. His back faced you, still unaware of another person in his chambers. A decorative glass wine decanter was within his grasp, taking large swigs of the reddish liquid as his body swayed on the ledge.

Though your reason clouded with a thick mist, muscles heavy with each movement, a rush of panic went through you as a harsh draft of the frigid night air nearly threw Aegon off balance before he righted himself.

"Raqnon?" (love), you called out into the darkness, toes catching on a rumpled pile of clothes as you stumbled towards him.

Aegon's cropped hair spun with him as he fell to his knees on the stone floor with a yelp, the glass decanter shattering. He mumbled something you couldn't decipher as you approached him with tentative movements, careful not to pierce yourself on any scattered pieces. You attempted to kneel before Aegon, but he stopped you with the wave of his hand.

"You-" he stuttered breathlessly, attempting to stand on drunk legs, "you should be resting. Get on the bed."

You could not deny the rush his command inspired and did not protest as you went, sitting on the edge and observing how Aegon stumbled over pieces of crystal with a concern scrunch to your brow. "You've been drinking," you stated rather than asked. You knew the answer, the clues evident that even the most inept of individuals could see. You wanted to hear him admit it aloud. "I thought you were limiting your consumption?"

Aegon's eyes met yours, a shimmering pool of amethyst within exhausted, sunken holes of indigo. You were sure you looked no better with a sallow hue due to the blood loss. They were both mirror reflections of each other's internal emotions.

"I think," he began, limbs tangled and gait like a newborn colt, "this situation allows me to have a little drink."

Your nose itched. A pesky little sign that tears were about to flow as you lowered your gaze to the small crimson stain on your nightdress. There was no reply to the prince, no words that would convince Aegon to take this situation more seriously than his mind would allow, and so you let the briny rivers flow, timidly nodding in acquiescence.

The profound feeling of failure mixed with dread crept its claws up your back, its fingers like knives as an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and lassitude tugged at your heart until it could no longer beat.

All that work and what did it get you... All the sacrifices you made, prioritizing the future of a realm that will not remember you two hundred years from now when the Targaryen legacy no longer has its hold over the land. What have you done but give your life— your body in service of your House? And what did you have to show for it? An immature prince who does not know how to cope without the aid of firewater. The overwhelming fear of the hereafter pulled you into an abyss you could not escape.

How would your father react to this? Your mother? Both would be distraught beyond comprehension, each showing it in varying ways. Daemon was always quick to anger and thirsted for bloodshed, acting with sharp words and swift blows with the sword rather than Rhaenyra, who had a matching fury but whose wrath and memory knew no bounds. You fretted for those who would fall victim.

Abruptly, Aegon's moonlight hair came into view. His arms trapped your lower legs in an iron embrace, and his forehead burrowed between your thighs.

"This is my doing. I left you alone after I vowed never to leave your side... to protect you," Aegon sobbed, tears staining the white fabric of your skirt.

"Do not be foolish," you retorted more harshly than intended as your hand instinctively went to his crown. "You seek to make it your fault within the confines of your own mind because you cannot fathom anything bad would happen unless it was influenced by you–because you think so lowly of yourself–because you have been told every waking moment of your life that something was not good enough because of you."

You could no longer retain your inner thoughts of Aegon's psyche and who helped influence him to be in such a way. You almost died, and you did not want to spend another moment keeping them within.

"The figures in your life that were supposed to guide you, shape you, nurture you failed tremendously, and yet they blame you for their shortcomings." You took Aegon by the sides of his head, forcing his bleary eyes to meet your focused ones, trying to impress the seriousness of your words. "It is not your fault."

The prince choked, mouth thick with excess saliva and mucus as he tried to speak. "I know it's not."

He did not know what you meant. Was it for something specific? Was it your poisoning and losing your child? Was it because of the heartache and shame he caused people? His actions and coping mechanisms? Or was it for anything and everything he forced himself to bear the conscience of?

You did not believe him, and the confession came too quickly to have entirely made an impact. "No, Aegon. It is not your fault."

"I know." He stared, lips tucked into a stiff pout, and attempted to pull away and gaze anywhere but you.

"Look at me, issa raqnon," (my love) you softly commanded, your voice tender and kinder than he had ever heard. His mouth twitched, glassy, and ametrine slowly dragged up your arm, chest, shoulder, neck, and face. "It is not your fault."

Aegon balked, light-colored lashes blinking as your words finally struck through the two decades of mental fortresses created by harsh words, unrealistic expectations, and emotionless love like a battering ram to the sturdy oak doors of the mud gate.

"Please," he whispered, for what he did not know. Perhaps a last-moment plea to halt the forthcoming emotions and memories he kept numbed and buried deep within wine, women, and gambling.

Nevertheless, Aegon's effort proved fruitless as a cry akin to a howl tore through his vocal cords, ripping his marred soul bare for you to finally see. He pressed his cheek into your stomach, ignoring the pang of discomfort that rolled through you as he wept as if he were a babe. You cradled him to you, stroking his matted silver strands as you rocked him with the other, your self-gratifying way to help ease your nerves.

It reminded you of your time in the Godswood underneath the heart tree, where Aegon laid his soul unyielding to allow you both to become one finally. Those stolen moments seemed like a lifetime ago, but much happened between then and now to lead you to this moment.

You were grateful that your love was finally actualized and did not regret a single moment spent together from when Ser Arryk discovered your affair to the present attempt on your life and the successful one of another. You had no choice but to feel again, despite your best efforts, nails scraping Aegon's scalp as the milk of the poppy waned, replacing the hollow loss with unfelt grief.

It was almost as if the pregnancy did not exist, and to those not within your chambers at that time, it didn't. There were no signs, cravings, missed moon blood, or weight gain in areas typical to term. To all who did not see you pass the blood clots with their own eyes, you had no reason to mourn. You could not get the image of your child torn from your womb, your skin, muscle, and innards tossed aside in search of something you did not know you carried out of your head, the screams of you and your child melding into one.

"Here I am, crying in a puddle of my own self pity when you are bleeding from your womb," Aegon sniveled, pulling away and rising onto one knee.

He placed a sticky palm over the affected area, your face crumpling with emotion. "That is not you speaking, dōnus taobus," (sweet boy). "We both hurt immeasurably today and in the past. We must mourn for what happened and what could have been," you replied, placing your hand over his.

Aegon's fingers dragged from your stomach, over your breasts, and onto your jaw, gingerly stroking your lower lip, brows scrunched in thought. He did not speak, letting an already wandering mind fester as his gaze studied the moist area.

"Do you believe in the tales of Old Valyria?" Aegon asked unprompted. "About the dragon gods bestowing dreams on people they deemed worthy?"

You nodded noiselessly, confused yet eager to know what he had to say as Aegon kept his gaze fixed on your mouth, slowly stroking the area. "I believe all cultures have their own belief systems, and one can be as valid as any. After all, it was Daenys the Dreamer who allowed us to live here today."

"Always the diplomat," the prince chortled, eyes crinkling with bittersweet mirth. "I believe Helaena is one of them," he said thoughtfully. "She has always said peculiar things–things I never paid much attention to until now."

You stared at Aegon in befuddlement, raising a brow as he continued his thoughts. "She said that you will grow old in love with me, that our union will be of love, and that the children will adore you as if you are their mother. That the dragon has three heads and that Aegon spent ten nights with Rhaenys for every one he spent with Visenya, but I will spend every night with you," he rambled, desperate to get the sentences plaguing his mind out.

It was a pleasant idea that sent heat to your ears to imagine that one day you would wed Aegon and no longer have to hide your love, but you knew it to be untrue. You were a bastard, and he was a married, true-born son of the king. Not only would it be against the law, but sin in the eyes of the Faith for one man to take two wives. It could fracture the relationship between the crown and the Citadel, and you did not wish for history to repeat itself.

Suddenly, a distant memory, one you had not thought of since it happened, appeared in your mind's eye. The confession took you back in time to the moment of Aegon's nameday feast, where you recalled bathed in glittering gold, loud, upbeat orchestral music, and the words, a sacrifice of her blood, peace reborn, chanting over and over in your head.

Aegon could see your thoughts etched into the worried wrinkles of your face, standing to his full height as he gave one final swipe across your moist lip. He ordered you wordlessly with the brush of your loose strands of hair out of your face to lay back onto his mountain of throw pillows. Swallowing tears, you turned onto your side with a groan, sudden lower body movements still debilitating as Aegon dutifully assisted you under the blankets.

The prince crawled beside you, placing one arm securely around your waist, careful not to cause any pressure, and the other underneath your body. He nuzzled his nose into your neck, releasing a sigh that held all his worries. He kissed your sweat-dampened skin, relieved to be within your comforting warmth. Your muscles relaxed your mind at ease and protected within the embrace of your fair-haired boy. Silence sat until your mind could finally form a response to his prior confession.

"I desire for her words to be true," you expressed, a longing for a life free of secrets and anxiety causing more tears to spring. A life you feared was not your future.

A screech broke throughout the orange and gray sky of King's Landing, rumbling the sleeping inhabitants' thatched roofs and glass windows. It was not unusual to hear the roars of dragons in the skies, and most paid no mind, simply falling back into slumber to hopefully catch what little bit of rest they had before the day.

The wings of Caraxes sliced through the late winter air as his rider descended at the mouth of the Dragonpit. Keepers scrambled on the packed dirt like disturbed ants from their hill, abruptly stolen from sleep. They could sense that much like his rider, the Blood Wyrm was in a state, snorting, stomping, and snapping at each of the Dragonkeepers as they attempted with difficulty to leash the winged beast.

Daemon did not wait until the handlers could properly restrain Caraxes as he dismounted from his ornate leather saddle. Jumping down the ropes on the side of his crimson scales, the Rogue Prince landed with dust under his feet, adjusting Dark Sister at his waist.

"Your Highness, we were not anticipating your arrival. Please forgive us," the headkeeper bowed, struggling to hold the agitated Caraxes at bay.

Daemon sniffed at the man and fixed his riding tunic unbothered. He had no time for people's false pleasantries and proper arrivals, nor did he want to.

"I need a horse," he cooly commanded, disregarding the Keepers' shouts in High Valyrian.

He paced along the edge of the Dragonpit like one of the beasts held within the cave, aching to fly, aching to be free. Gods knew if you were alive or not, whether those Green cunts had done away with you and framed it as a simple accident. The only thing that kept Daemon at bay was the letter. Though that piece of parchment was a harbinger of agony and worry, it meant that there was someone within those pale red stone walls who was an ally.

Daemon would tear those fucking vipers piece by piece until all that left of them were ash and bone. You were his daughter. An attempt on your life was just as good as his.

At times, he felt you were the only one within his family who understood him, the only one with whom he could fully be his true self. With his wife and other children, it was not to say that Daemon could not act honestly; he knew they loved him for who he was, yet the Rogue Prince did not want to scare them with things he felt inside. With you, his eldest daughter, he felt free. Your father could confide all his darkest thoughts, the anxieties that kept him awake at night that would send Rhaenyra into a panic. It was why he chose you to be the one who ensured a future with him beside the Iron Throne.

You were the only one who could tolerate his antics and give as good as you could receive. You knew when to put Daemon in his place and when to allow him to reign free. While Rhaenyra made him a good man, you made him a better one.

People saw that, and it was no doubt one of the reasons you were in this situation. The Rogue Prince was weak with his favorite daughter out of the way. He would not allow them to feel accomplished. If you died, House Hightower and all who swore to protect you would be eradicated by the morrow.

The whiny of a horse stole Daemon from his trance, halting his prowling as an unnamed knight strode on his steed.

"Your Highness," the Gold Cloak called, halting the chestnut horse with a pull of the reins. "Her Majesty, the Queen was not expecting you. Please forgive us for the lack of preparation. A wheelhouse is being prepared to take you to the castle."

The knight seemed out of breath as if he was the one who ran from the Red Keep to the Dragonpit as Daemon approached him. He was calm with his strides, leather boots thumping on packed dirt as he peered up at the man, the orange hue of the sunrise burning his eyes. He did not speak at first, seeming to size up the man before he lunged, grabbing the Gold Cloak by his weighted breastplate and throwing him off the startled horse. Daemon did not look to see if the aghast soldier was unharmed, clicking with the side of his cheek as he turned the animal toward Aegon's Hill.

"Where is she?" Alicent shouted at your eldest maid, tears of frustration and fear welling in her round brown eyes.

The screech of Caraxes woke every inhabitant of the palace, a sound the Queen believed to be in her nightmares until it boomed again. She understood it was only a matter of time until Daemon or Rhaenyra discovered what happened to their daughter, and now, it was about controlling the damage that would be left in the Rogue Prince's wake.

"I am not sure, your Majesty," Jeyne answered with a lowered head. She honestly did not know. Sleep had overcome her no matter how hard she tried to fight it.

"I entrusted you with the Princess's protection, and you failed. Now, for all we know, the assassin could have completed his mission. It will be your fault if that is the case," Alicent scolded the older maid, speaking down to the woman as if she were merely a child.

It angered Jeyne beyond measure. She had grown too comfortable with the respect you gave her and Fiora. Before she realized it, she was biting back, barely containing ire that would ruin her chances at a smooth life in the Keep.

"It will not be on my conscience if that is the case, my Queen."

Alicent balked. Plush lips agape with shock, digits twitching as if she wished to strike the insolent servant for her remark. Inhaling a calming breath, the Queen folded her hand across her abdomen, shoulders upright and chin held high as she spoke.

"You are dismissed from your duties henceforth," she declared with a furled lip as if the mere presence of someone close to you nauseated her.

Alicent could not hurt you in a way that would not arouse suspicion; she had tried that once before and failed, so she believed the next best thing would be to hurt those dear in your presence.

A woman from her station could not speak as freely as you did to Alicent. Her father was not the Rogue Prince, nor was she the lover of a crowned prince. The eldest maid was comforted that once you got wind of her reassignment, you would no doubt rain fire from the Seven Hells to get her back. Jeyne bowed humbly before the Queen, her chin held too high for the Queen's liking, and said nothing more as she exited the room toward the servant quarters, passing the guard stationed at your door.

The Queen sighed deeply, releasing tension she had not realized the conversation had created. She put her nimble fingers to the bridge of her nose. Her ramrod-straight posture slouched in her typical forest green dress, the ever-looming presence of the future shadowing her mind.

"My Queen!" An unknown guard barreled into your greeting room, his armor clanking and causing his limbs to throw all his weight. "Prince Daemon was spotted flying atop Caraxes over King's Landing," he breathlessly declared as if he had run across the castle.

"I know. I came to inform the Princess that her father had come to pay her a visit, but she is not here. Have the guards search for her in my son's quarters. Discretion is of utmost importance," Alicent commanded, her voice rich like velvet. She knew where you would go. You were still a girl in her eyes, desperate for a morsel of companionship in times of need. Alicent understood the feeling and recalled many times in her past when she had no one but herself. 

She had not felt nor sounded like the Queen she claimed to be within your presence until now. Her posture returned to its regal stiffness, her shoulders rolled back, and her scowl pulled her plump lips. How Daemon got word of your well-being was unknown, but she knew there was a traitor in the Red Keep. Someone or possibly more had deliberately gone against the orders of the Hand and Queen Consort. There was no telling what they would do should the untimely death of the King strike.

Paranoia wound into Alicent's gut, tying her insides into knots as the unnamed knight bowed to fulfill his duty.

The control the Queen grappled with her entire service was falling from her grasp like sand between one's fingers. Everything had gotten out of hand so quickly that she could not comprehend what to do next. The most heinous scenarios ran through her head at what Daemon would do with no one to steady the reigns. She recalled the stories of the Rogue Prince in the Stepstones—the betrayal, the horror, the bloodshed of returning to court with a crown made of his enemy's bones. He was an army of his own, and the death of one of his soldiers would not deter him from his purpose; it would only further his wrath.

Alicent could no longer be complacent in her terror. Her legs carried a twitching and trembling form across the silent halls of the Keep until she saw a streak of red. It appeared out of nowhere, trailing behind the culprit's path like footprints in freshly fallen snow. She knew it could only belong to one person, and a shuddering breath racked her at the realization.

Your dreams were pleasant, though you could not recall them, only the feeling they gave. The laughter of those you sensed were your loved ones, their smiles, the warmth of the sun, basking in its eternal yellow warmth, and the sturdy touch of what you believed was the ground beneath you. You longed to stay in this moment forever, realizing in your mind that it was a dream, but you didn't care. You just wanted to feel the joy that always seemed a finger-width away, even if it was under the falsehood of sleep.

Your dreams did not last long enough, suddenly ripped away from your blissful world to a searing pain to your scalp. Your eyes shot open as you released a scream, your sore body dragging across the Myrish rug on Aegon's floor, the fibers burning your flesh raw. You struggled within your assailant's vice-like grip to no avail, your prince startling awake as he tried to see through the eyes of sleep.

Fear gripped your heart, thoughts racing as to who would do this to you, your previous assailant coming to mind. You felt the slice of skin before you saw it, hissing in hurt as the shattered pieces of the wine decanter appeared next to you, a trail of blood leading from your foot. Without hesitation, you snatched the nearest piece, slashing the skin of your abductor's hand. They released you with a wince, your head thumping against the floor as you scrambled away.

The armor of a kingsguard glinted in the candlelight as a grunting Ser Criston cradled his bleeding hand. Fearful confusion etched your features as Aegon came rushing to your side, throwing himself between you and the enraged knight.

"You cunt!" Ser Criston cursed, clutching his fist to his breastplate.

"Criston!" Aegon shouted, running a soothing hand through your hair. "I'll cut your fucking tongue out for that! How dare you put your hands on her?"

Tears welled in your eyes, and an overwhelming sensation of helplessness that was akin to your childhood overcame you as you hid your face within Aegon's soft torso. You could not care about the shameless way you cried, sniffling and hiccuping as you did in your girlhood in your lover's embrace.

"Her father is on his way here as we speak. Do you want to be discovered with her in your bed?" Criston admonished, his words filled with an ire you always knew simmered below the surface.

Aegon growled an animalistic noise that rattled you to your core as he stood, your arms reaching out in search of his comfort. "You will leave us and never put your hands on her again or I shall tell the King of what you have done here."

Criston knew it was not an empty threat. He did not doubt the prince would run to his half-dead father about what he did. While the knight didn't have faith that Viserys would be lucid enough to enact anything, the memory of his frail body walking across the Great Hall during the hearing of Driftmark made him hesitant. But it did not matter. The Queen and the Hand ruled the kingdom in Viserys' sickness. To Criston, he was only king in name.

"I am on orders of your Queen Mother to bring the Princess back to her chambers. She was not supposed to leave on the Maester's command," he declared confidently, the pain from his cut dwindling as the blood began to clot.

"The Maester's command," you repeated with a sneer as you stood. Anger replaced any fear that made its home in your chest, coming to be beside Aegon. "You were not there as I was forced to drink milk of the poppy despite Maester Orwyle's protests. It was your Queen who wishes to keep us separated."

The revelation did not phase Ser Cole. He had no conscience when it came to the likes of a bastard whore. His dark brow was stern as he disregarded you. "Move, my prince, or you will be moved."

Rage burned hot in your bones, roaring into a flaming inferno that felt like it would scorch your insides if you did not let it out. Ser Criston had no right to the aggression he displayed with you. You had not done anything to him. You had barely spoken except for brief conversations of forced politeness when given no other choice, yet he still held hatred for you that you could never understand.

"You fucking celibate, craven, son of a-"

An abrupt smack across your temple cut off your words, ringing your ears momentarily as your vision swiftly faded.

"Criston!" a new voice shouted as your unconscious body toppled to the floor, a weeping Aegon following soon after. "What have you done?"

Alicent stood in the doorway, a shocked Erryk Cargyll standing stock-still beside her. Criston heaved, his shoulders rapidly falling up and down as his brown eyes drifted to your listless expression. He thought he preferred you that way, briefly imagining someone else in your place.

"Apologies, your majesty," he bowed modestly, returning to the humble White Cloak everyone knew him as. "In my efforts to return her highness to her rooms, I struck her in anger. Please, forgive me."

The Queen balked, doe eyes nearly bulging out of her skull as she saw the whisper of blood trickle from your scalp onto your cheek. She swallowed, head reeling with the thought of another consequence she would face when you came to.

Suddenly, an idea came to mind, something so conniving and wicked that it reminded her of her father. It sent a chill down Alicent's spine, sending a brief prayer of forgiveness to the Seven before clearing her throat as she spoke. "All is forgiven, Ser Cole. You've served my House steadfastly all these years, and for that you have my many thanks. Please, take her to her quarters and summon the Maester."

Her sworn shield bowed, ordering a silently begrudging Ser Erryk to restrain Aegon as he threw you over his shoulder with a grunt as if you were no more than a grain sack. Aegon shrieked in response, attempting to chase after you, but ran into the wall of Ser Erryk. He tried to push past, but it was no use. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and no longer had the facilities to thrash against others.

"Please, my prince," Erryk pleaded, a sturdy fist placed against Aegon's chest. "You will see her again."

Her solution was temporary, that much Alicent knew, and would require the fear your father instilled in others to work. However, if she were as intelligent and cunning as her father, time and patience would be on her side. She just hoped that the Gods were, too.

Alicent understood you would only listen with great struggle. Now that you knew your father was here, you had another soul to cling to—one she could not control or manipulate. Those who served you would be tested on how much their loyalties ran when met with the highest order of the kingdom, and the Queen prayed fear flowed deeper than any bond did as she ordered the Maester for another tincture.

Leather footfalls echoed throughout the red rock walls of the Keep, intimidating those who were unsuspecting in the Rogue Prince's path. Stunned maids and manservants gasped and bowed in Daemon's presence as he passed. Each whispered words to one another behind glancing eyes and covered mouths. It should not be unusual for the king's brother to arrive unannounced, yet the years of tense relations with the Queen Consort and the Heir made his entrance something to gossip about.

He paid no mind to the common folk chatter. He was the victim of it all of Daemon's life. First with the uncertainty of Viserys' heir, then with his concubine Lady Misery when he gifted her and their unborn child a dragon egg, the next with rumors of him and Rhaenyra's uncouth relationship of uncle and niece, the suspicious death of his first wife, Rhea Royce, his marriage to his niece, and the legitimization of a bastard.

No amount of courtly yapping would affect Daemon. Not anymore. Especially not now when said daughter's life was in the grasp of those who openly despised his family.

He did not know where those traitors held you, how the Greens treated you, or if you were still alive, and that uncertainty shook Daemon to his core, though you could not see it. He was confident of one thing: where to find Otto. High atop the tower of the Hand would be where the snake resided, no doubt thinking of more ways to scheme himself into positions he was undeserving of.

Surprisingly, no guards stopped the Rogue Prince as he ascended the winding steps to the tower. Perhaps they knew not to mess with a sleeping dragon, ready to spit flames at anyone who dared wake it. Damon entered the Hand's chambers, giving no opportunity to properly announce a guest's arrival.

Ser Otto Hightower raised a wirey, unamused brow at the prince, unbothered by his lack of manners. He knew that Daemon was on his way and had prepared everything and everyone accordingly. He ordered your maids and Maester Orwyle into silence, and should they speak, incomprehensible outcomes would befall them. Alicent, Otto's ever-dutiful daughter, his favorite daughter,and his only daughter took care of her son's and your matters.

"Prince Daemon," the hand greeted him, yet he did not stand. "It is an unexpected pleasure to have you return home unannounced."

The prince ignored the covert jab at his lack of manners, his lips twitching into a scowl as his palm rested on the hilt of Dark Sister. "I do not share the same sentiment," he sneered. "I know what you have done to my daughter and it is treason. I demand to see her at once."

"It is unfortunate what has befallen you, daughter, but you must understand my discretion. She has had an attempt on her life, and we certainly do not need other members of the royal family fearing for theirs." Otto sighed, seeming like the conversation was with a petulant child, not a war-hardened machine.

"That is what you call ceasing communications with Dragonstone?" Daemon shook his head, rolling his violet eyes with a scoff. "It seems to everyone but you what exactly you were trying to do. A guilty conscience I presume?"

Otto paused, his dark orbs sizing up the enraged prince in his usual fashion. He was a man of patience and perseverance, proven over the decades. The Hand was indeed capable of action but not overtly like the Rogue Prince. He took time to understand his allies and even more so with his enemies, ensuring he knew things they did not know themselves. Inhaling a sharp breath, Ser Otto returned his gaze to the uninvited guest and spoke barbs disguised as silk.

"I understand your feelings on the matter, but you must understand that it is not only her that is in danger. If one member of the court were to catch wind of an attempted assassination on someone of her stature chaos would erupt," Otto expressed pragmatically. Daemon scoffed, intertwining his hands over his waist as he leaned a foot out in exasperation. "People would feel unsafe and have doubts in the king's capabilities to ensure his subjects are safe, let alone his kin. There would be a mass exodus within the Keep, notable Houses would pull their investments. It would tear the establishment down simply because of one girl's mistake."

Anger lit inside Daemon's chest at his words, spine straightening to his full height as he strode to the Hand's desk with menacing strides. How dare he speak about you as if you were just an animal? That you were nothing but one of the many pieces of parchment sat upon the wood for him to briefly read and discard. Dark Sister swung at the prince's waist, beating to his movements, the coattails of his riding gear flowing behind as he stood tall over the Lord's Hand.

Before Daemon could think better of it, rearing his arm back and connected his fist into the scruff of Otto's nearly trimmed beard, knocking the pompous man from his seat. The prince had longed to do this for decades, and now, with no one to rein him in, he could. It was a cathartic feeling filled with pent-up rage and jealousy for all the years Otto filled the seat he desired, whispering in his brother's ear to influence decisions in ways that benefited the Hightowers.

This was personal.

Daemon circled the spruce davenport and kneeled. The prince gripped his midnight-colored tunic, readying his dominant hand to bash the Hand's face as the door to the office opened. The Queen stood in the entryway, a horrified look on her visage as she screeched for the guards to separate them.

"No need," Daemon answered coolly as the Gold Cloaks entered, righting himself. He rolled his shoulders unbothered as if he were caught wrestling with a sibling rather than one of the highest Lords of Westeros.

Alicent swiftly went to her father, kneeling beside him as tears glimmered in her wide amber eyes. Otto gently brushed her dotting efforts away, refusing his fragile masculine pride to be further insulted with the aid of a woman. She opened her plump lips to order the guards to escort Daemon away, but he held his palm, halting the frightened Queen with what he might intend to do next.

"Where is my daughter?" he questioned, the smooth timbre of his domineering tone replaced with something almost... soft.

Alicent swallowed the excess saliva that accumulated inside her mouth with the threat of tears. Her gaze returned to her father, noticing the trickle of blood on his lip, no doubt split from the force of Daemon's strike. She waited for her father to speak, still thrown to the ground as he said to her in expressions only she could comprehend. When he assured her and himself that everything was in place without words, he nodded, Daemon's suspicious gaze examining them.

"She is in Maegor's Holdfast. I am sure you know how to conduct yourself in those halls," Alicent snipped, her voice velvety and moist, as she helped her pride-wounded father stand.

The prince gave her no more words, no looks that said he heard her before he was off, leaving a trail of destruction behind him, gait determined with only one goal in mind, and Seven help any poor, unfortunate soul who stood in his path.

Prickling anxiety stirred within Daemon's gut as he followed a young servant with bright, fiery hair. The nervous thing rang her hands together until her knuckles cracked, sparing fleeting glances behind her to ensure he had not abruptly decided to live up to his name.

Daemon imagined your fear and knew you must have felt betrayed, terrified, and distraught. He thought about how you needed him in your most vulnerable moment, only to find that there was no one. He was the one who set the foundations for your assault. He should have never forced you into this position. Your father should have kept you close and tucked away in his heart as he did everything dear to him.

Now, he would never let you go for as long as the blood of the dragon flowed through his veins.

Each realization strung him up further into his anxiety, feeling his heart beating at every point of his body. The moment's walk felt like decades of agony to him, as if Daemon was forced to fight a legion of soldiers alone with an arm tied behind his back. The servant, whom he did not care to know, stopped at a great wooden door, curtsying to him with her chin tucked into her chest and gaze lowered. Daemon stared at her dully, waiting for any further response or courtesy, but gave none, answering his question wordlessly as he opened the portal.

A thick blanket of invisible smoke covered your chambers, stinging his pale, violet eyes as he struggled to breathe. It blinded his senses, unable to think of anything other than the overpowering scent of incense. His vision did not immediately travel to you but to a dark-skinned man with modest gray robes. The Maester's back was turned to Daemon as he hunched over a table with supplies, mixing dried herbs to make what he assumed was a pot of medicinal tea.

He left the man at work, looking around the heavy room until he saw you. Daemon stared at you in disbelief at the heart-wrenching sight before him, feeling only the frantic pounding of his unsteady pulse.

His daughter lay under thick sheets of Hightower green, your face sallow and sunken rings of indigo under your eyes.

"They told me they found her within a puddle of gore. No attacker in sight," Orwyle said in a trembling voice, clearly afraid of his wrath. Daemon didn't listen to him, staring blankly at your listless expression.

He approached you slowly on trembling legs, feeling complete emptiness in his head. He breathed heavily through his mouth as Daemon kneeled beside a bed that did not belong to you, gently grasping your cheeks in his fingers and turning your face towards him. Your body was limp, your mouth slightly parted, your eyelids half open, and your gaze distant and misty. It was as if you were not here, not in spirit, wetting your lips as he heard your labored breathing.

"What happened?" your father asked in a whisper, terrified of how his voice and body were shaking. His heart threatened to burst from his ribs, his throat and stomach squeezed so tightly that he had trouble filling his lungs with air.

He heard your quiet sigh as you struggled to train your gaze on him, looking at your father as if you were thinking about something and unsure if what was happening was a dream or true. It has been so long since you last saw him that you wondered if you had truly gone mad after everything.

Relief did not flood Daemon at discovering you were alive, and it was when he looked at you closely that he noticed your right temple was swollen, a tiny sliver of broken pink flesh decorating the top. The wound was fresh, blood still glistening, and he understood it must have happened within the last few hours. He felt tears of shame under his eyelids and overwhelming rage at the thought that someone had dared to hit you.

His daughter—his flesh.

"Father," you whispered so quietly that he barely heard you, stroking the soft skin of your face. Daemon felt an unbearable squeeze in his throat at your voice, his eyebrows arched in pain, eyes burning from the tears that wanted so desperately to run down his visage.

"I am here." The Rogue Prince whimpered with difficulty in a tone breaking with pain and grief, pressing his nose against your hair. He cried out loudly, never feeling so helpless before in his life, for his dearest daughter, his favorite daughter, was dying in his arms because of him, betrayed and abandoned.

"Who did this to you?" he questioned thickly, words echoing in the cavernous expanse of your guest chambers. This place has been your home for two years.

You spent two years with only written correspondence. A father's duty was to protect his kin and make the proper decisions that ensured their success and safety in life, but he was ill-fated. Daemon was your guardian, the only person in this forsaken world in whom you should place your unwavering trust, and he failed—not only as a father but also as a man.

"The Stranger," you muttered in response with great effort, eyes rolling back into your head and lids closing as you released a profound sigh.

He knew that your mind was not in its proper place, nor did he expect it to be. You escaped the clutches of death within a house that prayed at every chance for your downfall. Your father put you in a cage inhabited by rabid wolves seeking to devour every morsel of prey that walked within the halls of the Red Keep, but you were not an easy meal. You were lined with scars and teeth marks of the past, hardening your hide from each predator who attempted to sink their claws into you.

Daemon turned a young lamb into a dragon, and they would soon feel your fire's scorching heat.

"Talus mandus ñuhus. Jorilagon sesīr," (My gentle daughter. Rest now.) he muttered, feeling the warm tears run down his cheeks. He looked only at you, stroking your crown as if you were a small child.

Daemon considered the Hightowers, Alicent, and Otto conniving snakes in the grass bound by piousness, servitude, and duty for their wealth. This was what upholding the realm was—death and destruction for their betterment.

He stroked your cold skin with his thumb, confident that no force would tear him away from his child. No force would make him leave you, and if anyone tried to do so, he would kill every fucking one of them.

Masterlist of Series

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte , @silverslive , @prettykinkysoul , @legolas017 , @iiamthehybrid , @dd122004dd , @ladybug0095 , @millies0bsimp , @kalfild , @sheislonelyalways , @tempt-ress , @minttea07 , @trikigirl271 , @esposadomd , @prettywhenicry4 , @justarandomflowerchildofthenight , @partypoison00 , @please-buckme , @pastelorangeskies , @existential-echo , @priyajoyy , @valaenatargaryensdragon , @merovingianprincess , @candy12110 , @w3ird11 , @ruhjkie , @somemydayy , @marikkjj , @zillahvathek , @sunfyresrider , @heavenly1927 , @hjgdhghoe , @im-sidney , @aurorathi , @marihoneywk , @xitsemm , @justbelljust , @qardasngan

How did you all like the reunion, even though it wasn't much of one? I'm glad we got more of a look into Daemon and the reader's very unhealthy relationship. Don't we all want a daddy like him, though?

I always like to remind people that Alicent's relationship with the reader is a mirror reflecting on her. This raises the philosophical question: If you were faced with your actions of the past and present, would you like them? Would you still support and commit to them again? Or would you hate them, hate what you've done, hate that it's you that you're seeing, and refuse to accept it?

Well, anyway, thank you for reading and your unwavering devotion. I hope you will stick with me through my literary journey, even when I finish this story and move on to the next.

[juniper-divination-and-witchery]

Protecting home and fortune: Irish folk customs for Bealtaine

Bealtaine, also known as May Day, marked a pivotal point in the Irish calendar. It signified the arrival of summer, a time of light, warmth, and the promise of a bountiful season ahead. However, Bealtaine also held a sense of unease. This was a time when the boundary between our world and the Otherworld thinned, inviting the potential for both blessings and misfortune from the unpredictable Good Neighbors. To navigate this delicate balance, people turned to time-honored traditions and a heightened awareness of the risks of everyday life.

Appeasing the Good Neighbors

On Bealtaine, it was widely believed that the Good Neighbors became particularly active. To ensure their goodwill and prevent them from causing mischief, people would leave out food and drink as offerings. The belief was that the the Good Neighbors were attracted to these offerings and would be less likely to cause trouble if they were satisfied.

You all know May is the month of the fairies. Great people or men that lived long ago rises from their graves on every night in the month of May to fight the old battles that they fought long ago these men are called fairies. The bad fairies do great harm and trouble in the month of May they kill cattle take away milk and butter from the cows and alot of other mischief. Source

"The fairies come around our houses too to do mischief as well as they come to the cattle; you should sweep the hearth very clean and leave food aside for them. If you don't the fairies will come when you are asleep and will torment you by tricking you or pinching you." Source

Primrose

Primrose was believed to ward off the Good Neighbors, and scattering them in the doorways and window sills of the home created a barrier no troublesome spirit could cross.

"During the first three days [of May] fairies entered the house. They came disguised as old men or women in order to steal coals and in order to prevent them primroses were scattered on the doorway no fairy could pass this flower." Source

"The best preventive of fairy power was to scatter primroses on the threshold, for no one could pass the flowers and and the house and house-hold were left in peace." Source

"Guard the house by a string of primroses across the door on the first three days of May. The fairies can pass neither over nor under the string." Source

Rowan

This tree was seen as potent protection against otherworldly forces. A branch hung above a cow's stable door could ward off those who might steal the milk, ensuring the cow's blessing for the year. Branches decorated with spring flowers were also placed around the house for a bit of extra good luck.

On May Day before sunrise the eldest member of the family gets up, he goes out, pulls a branch of the rowan tree and hangs it over the cow's stable door. This is done to prevent the fairies from taking any of the milk from the cows. Source

Another custom is to get a branch of Rowan tree and decorate it with may flowers and primroses and leave it in the middin standing. Then strew may-flowers into each outhouse door and on the doorstep and in the windowsills. This is to welcome the good fairies so that there will be good luck round the year. Source

If you put a rowan tree up the Chimney nothing can bring the butter out of the house. Source

The May bush: blessing and protection

The May bush was a common custom in Ireland, particularly in Leinster, South and West Ulster, and some areas of Munster and Connaught. The May bush often featured hawthorn branches brought home and decorated with flowers, ribbons, and colorful eggshells saved from Easter.

The May bush was believed to protect the home from evil spirits, particularly fairies and witches. It was also thought to bring good luck and prosperity, especially in relation to milk and butter production.

It is a great custom also to make a May bush on May day. This consists of a bush, which is put standing in the dungpit. The bush is decorated with flowers and eggshells. The eggshells are kept after Easter Sunday. Source

On May morning a Maybush was placed outside each house. It usually was a yellow furze bush with a number of eggshells stuck on the thorns. Source

The people around this place make May-bushes on the first of May. They pull a bush and gather flowers and tie them on to the bush with strings and stick it on the ground and after that they say their prayers around it to honour our Blessed Mother and they make a little Altar and put flowers every day on it during May. The people long ago used to make May-bushes and they also used to make a little Altar. Source

The evening before the first of May the people go out and get a piece of a certain tree which they call May Pole. They put this bush outside the door and they put all the egg shells they had on Easter Sunday on it. They also put a lot of flowers out side too. If the people do not put up the May Pole the fairies will come. They also tie May Pole to the cow's tail and if they do not, the fairies come and take the milk from the cow. Source

Guarding your luck

Bealtaine is a time that came with a heightened fear that any careless act could invite bad luck for the whole year. During Bealtaine, even seemingly simple acts held risk.

Giving away even staples like milk, butter, or coins risked also surrendering your good fortune. Lending a tool or sharing even a hot coal from your hearth could lead to unexpected misfortune.

On May eve no one cares to give away any milk or butter fearing their luck would be taken. Source

Long ago the people used to have a large number of pisreogs on May day...They would not give away anything to anybody on May day, only to a beggar man. When he would come in they would give him great welcome. They would say he was bringing in the good luck. The old people would not allow anybody to bring fire outside the door. Everybody would have matches on May day. The old people would not allow any fire outside the door. Source

On May Eve or May Day nothing is given out of the house. Source

They considered it unlucky to give butter or milk way to any person on May Day as they would be giving away their luck. No stables were to be cleaned out on that day. The first person to go to the well in the morning was supposed to have luck for the rest of the year. It is not right to give money to anyone on that day. But if you get money on that day you will be getting it for the year. Source

The people of the house do not put out the ashes on that day or if a person asked for a coal they would be refused. Source

Another custom of the Irish, they would not lend any article or give either milk or food even to beggars. They would not light a fire on May Day until it was late in the day for fear that the people would see the smoke and would bring the butter. Source

The customs surrounding Bealtaine offer a fascinating glimpse into the rich tapestry of Irish folklore and the enduring human desire to shape our luck through ritual and tradition. Whether leaving offerings to appease unseen spirits, scattering flowers as wards against misfortune, or cautiously guarding their possessions, people sought to influence the unseen forces that shaped their lives. These traditions, born in a different time, speak to a fundamental human desire for control, for a sense of agency in the face of an uncertain world. While the specific fears and beliefs may have shifted, the impulse to use ritual and superstition as a means of navigating life's unpredictability remains surprisingly relatable.