#nyra rose

[azrielwingspan]

DISTRACTIONS (AZRIEL X OC)-PART 3

Distractions is a collection of short stories whose main characters are Azriel and Nyra (OC).

It's established that there is some heavy tension between them (everyone suspects lol) and I decided to put into words a few visualizations I've had of the both of them just pining for each other, playing hard to get, flirting, a bit of angst, maybe smut, some fluff and overall just being HELLA CUTE OKAY.

Part 3 of the collections of short stories!! No specific reading order to be followed.

PART 1 / PART 2

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Summary : Nyra and Azriel finally meet after a month. What starts off as a pleasant conversation branches out into something more. Warnings: Angst , mild swearing, bit of smut (i think?) .

Enjoy !

Nyra was fed up. Everything, everywhere all at once was going wrong. For the past few days, all she had done was wake up, fix shit and have a fitful sleep.

She came back home to Vallahan a month ago and had been served bad news on a silver platter. The nobles were planning an intervention to add a new clause to the tax benefit laws. This wasn't something new that had to be tackled but it had never been held over the courts head before. If this wasn't handled delicately and shut down definitively, the court would have a civil war on their hands.

"I will say this once and only once." she stared down the Lord of Fendale, her face a carefully crafted mask that betrayed no hint of emotion. "The laws exist for a reason---" she raised a hand as she noticed the Lord open his mouth to interrupt her. "NOT for you to change them as per your personal interests. So if you have any legitimate reason for your proposal my lord, you will present it to the ENTIRE court. I will not be tolerating anymore personal visits."

She motioned towards the door not giving him a chance to speak up. She had had enough of this idiocy for a lifetime. The Lord fortunately took the hint and left the room slamming the door behind him. That fucking cun---.

"Another visitor for you my Lady."

"If I see one more noble parading in here like they own the damn place, I will stab them with my pencil. Let them know beforehand. Would serve as a fair warning don't you think?"

"Fair enough." a dark and smooth voice responded. The scent of night chilled mist and cedar hit her bringing a smile to her face.

"That applies to you as well, Shadowsinger."

"I am not a noble." the sound of boots tapping across the wooden floor came closer , the male now in front of her casting a shadow across the reports she was trying to read.

"You did walk in here like you own the damn place." The words in front of her might as well have been an entirely new language. Her brain refused to acknowledge anything else when he was nearby.

"Was I meant to take an appointment?" a teasing tone laced into his voice.

"Would've been suitable."

"And here I was thinking you would always make time for me. It's not reciprocated I see."

Scarred hands placed onto the table entered her field of vision and she finally looked up meeting his gaze.

After an entire month of restlessness , irritation and exhaustion, something in Nyra finally settled. It felt like walking into an open field, taking in a huge gulp of fresh air and feeling the heaviness leave your body only to be replaced by a pleasant humming sensation.

"Hello, Az."

"Hello, Nyra." a delightful grin graced his face.

The greeting alone seemed to charge the air around them. The memory of him kissing her neck sprung into her head and she pushed it out immediately. Now was not the time.

She had thought of that moment every day since. The feel of his lips brushing against the skin of her throat, the shared breaths, the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. Most of all, she remembered the dismissal at the end of it all. It managed to break her out of her day dreams every single time. It wasn't meant to happen. What was she thinking?

Something on her face must have betrayed her emotions because Azriel's smile dimmed as he watched her. The memory seemed to clutch him in its grasp as well , making him step away from the table. The heaviness slammed back into Nyra with full force.

Well there goes my moment of peace.

Clearing his throat, Azriel pulled something out of the shadows surrounding him. "Rhys asked me to pass this onto you. I managed to find some...information regarding the Lord of Fendale that might be of benefit to you."

"Oh."

Stupid, stupid girl.

Of course he was here on official business. She had duped herself into thinking he was there for her.

When will you learn?

"Right." She read through the report Azriel had written all the while trying to shove her disappointment into a dark recess of her mind.

"This is.....excellent." The information in the report could be used against the Lord and make him rein in the other lords who had fallen out of line.

"Azriel...thankyou. This might solve the problem once and for all."

He bowed his head and gave her a small smile.

"I hoped it would. He's a viper Nyra. Be careful."

"I will."

They settled into awkward silence for a few beats. She hated it. This feeling of walking around eggshells around him, the way they were pretending that nothing ever happened between them. She didn't know how to fix it and she hated herself more for it.

"What is this?" Azriel had moved towards a table littered with official and personal letters. He was clutching one of them in a white knuckled grip, his eyes flying across the page over and over again.

SHIT. SHIT. SHIIIIT.

She knew exactly which one of the dozens of letters he was clutching. She had planned on burning it that morning but clearly had forgotten.

"Az..."

"What. Is. This. Nyra?" he growled, his voice like subdued thunder.

He had gone still. Oh so still, she wondered if he was even breathing.

His eyes were still glued to the letter and she wondered how the page hadn't caught fire from the look he was shooting it.

"It's nothing important. I was supposed to burn it today." she tried to placate him, standing up from her seat and making her way towards him.

"Nothing important?" he turned to look at her and she almost stumbled at the darkness in his eyes. Hot burning anger that raged like a fire, she could deal with. However, Azriel's anger was like cold death. It was honed and sharpened to strike it's opponent when the time came.

She wasn't scared of him.

Never.

She was scared for him.

"Yes nothing." she kept her tone unbothered , tinging it with a hint of annoyance. It wasn't hard really. She was annoyed that he had found it fit to just go through her letters.

"It would be of utmost honor if you were to wed my son---"

"I know what it says, Azriel. I can read." She could feel her anger rising to the surface preparing to clash with his.

"Did you respond?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

"What did---"

"It's official court business."

He scoffed.

He fucking scoffed.

It was enough for her anger take over and make her see red.

"Put the letter down Azriel. You have no right to read those. Oh and next time make a damn appointment. I don't have time to deal with your fucking tantrums."

"Tantrums? You think me reacting to a marriage proposal is a ...tantrum?" his voice had gotten deadly quiet.

"Yes." she hissed through her clenched teeth. "What I do or don't do with my personal life is none of your concern. If I want to marry a Lord's son, I damn well will and YOU are not obligated to know about it."

"Say that again, Nyra. Say that again but be truthful to yourself this time." the intensity with which he was looking at her hadn't subdued. If anything it seemed like he was taunting her.

She stepped closer to him, reaching out a hand and grabbing the letter out of his.

"I..." she started tearing the letter into pieces.

"do not..." she crumpled the pieces in her hands, a few of them fluttering to the ground.

"answer to you." she tossed the remaining pieces onto the table, her hands shaking from the adrenaline rushing through her.

"No. No you don't." he stepped closer to her , towering over her as their gazes clashed. Cold death and a simmering volcano.

"But I do know one thing with absolute certainty. You know what it is?"

She kept silent and refused to look away.

He took another step and let his scent envelop her completely. His shadows were dancing around them, seemingly out of control. They had carved out a dark secluded spot in the bright confines of her office, trapping the both of them in a whirlwind of their emotions.

"You can do whatever or whoever you want Nyra. At the end of the day, it'll always be you and me. Remember that."

Her breath was knocked out of her, the anger being flushed out of her body in an instant. A whole new set of emotions that she had carefully locked away poured into her, leaving her dizzy.

She didn't know who moved first. It didn't matter. Because the next thing she knew, they were a clash of lips and tongue , desperate to get closer and feel everything.

She ran her hands up his shoulders and reveled in the feel of it. How she imagined doing this over and over again every single night. His hands were cupping her face , angling it towards him as he kissed her like it was the first and last time.

He turned them around and placed her on the table, all the while kissing her. Her dress had bunched up to her thighs and Azriel ran his hands over her body as if trying to memorize the feel of every inch.

She ran her hands through his hair, the burn in her core flaring with every second that passed.

"Az." she let out a whimper as he trailed a line of kisses down her neck and chest. Tugging at the collar of his shirt, she brought his lips back to hers, wrapping her legs around his hips to bring him closer.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." he whispered hoarsely against her lips, taking her lower lip in between his teeth and biting down gently.

A new wave of lust shot through her and Azriel's gaze turned ravenous as he noticed her reddened cheeks and glazed eyes.

"I refused." she said ghosting his lips as she craned her neck to place a soft kiss on his pulse. "There is no one else I would say yes to, Az." she clutched his shirt tighter pressing herself against him. Her breasts brushed over his chest, her nipples turning to peaks. She did it again, chasing the feeling.

He let out a groan that made her clench her thighs around his hips.

"You don't know what you do to me , Nyra."

She bit down on his neck, making him hiss and lace his fingers through her hair.

"The things I want to do to you ...fuck. Not here though. I want to take my time." his breathy voice was doing things to her brain that she could not comprehend. She didn't want to. She wanted to be at the mercy of the moment.

His hand brushed the underside of her breast and she let out an embarrassingly loud moan that had him pulling her head back and latching onto her lips.

As suddenly as it started, it ended.

Azriel pulled back abruptly, blocking her from view as he turned to face the door.

"Lady Ny..." her attendee walked in , stopping dead in her tracks when she noticed Azriel. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you had company." Her face turned tomato red.

Nyra cleared her throat and spoke as though she hadn't been close to being bent over the table. "Anything urgent?"

"Uh..y-yes my Lady. The nobles have called an emergency council meeting."

Azriel exhaled through his nose in exasperation. Nyra wanted to kill someone.

"Wonderful. I'll be there soon. Thankyou, Elle."

She would be needing that pencil after all.

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Simple question- which couple/polycule is your favorite?

Propaganda for Rose x Kanaya: "rose is a gothic teen witch who wields weaponised magic knitting needles and heeds whispers of dark eldritch gods. kanaya is a teen of a super tough alien race, she wields a chainsaw and she is pretty happy to use it (will amputate a friends legs, or cut an enemy entirely in half) who also becomes a vampire. anyway they start dating because OBVIOUSLY they do. of course freaky goth girl rose is gonna be all over an alien vampire gf. of course kanaya who canonically has terrible taste in women 'i can fix them'-style will go for the human girl with a god and god-killing complex who plays with dark forces for shits and giggles. also theres this whole thing about how due to time shenanigans kanaya was actually guided by rose's writing before rose had even written it so like, admired her and stuff and so theres a fun sort of backstory of them getting to know eachother for reals and stuff idk its fun"

Propaganda for Camille x Nyra x Dendrobium: "Canon witch polycule Demon fighters with sick powers"

"Camille and Nyra are witches and Dendro is a demon, so they all have magic! They fight against a demon and Camille's abusive monster aunt together. Camille learned plant magic from Dendro. Dendro gets to live an exciting life thanks to Camille summoning her. Nyra is a great support to them both during this hard time."

[sharp-silver4795]

EJ’s Friends from Hydra

EJ’s got some friends that came from Hydra. Who are they? Where did they come from? I’m also gonna go into what who or what raised him 🤭

Niak - Pale Rose (Pride)

Very young and way too bold

EJ met him when he was getting used to the mansion

The lil guy thought he could go toe-toe but it didn’t work out for him

EJ felt bad, took care of him, and now they’re friends

Skail - Pale Rose (Pride)

Niak’s older Sibling.

White rose demons are all born male but their mating behavior can change them to be female. Even then, they are still referred as gender neutral.

Met EJ through Niak.

She ends up dying to save her brother when Judge gets a hold of the pale rose knife thinking it would kill EJ.

In reality, it just made EJ want to slaughter the nearest Pale Roses he could find.

Harbre - Natural Rose (Sloth)

Pronounced like “Harbor”

They originally don’t exactly get along, but she helps him out with trying to cope with the fact that he is the last Crimson Rose on Earth

The “on earth” is really important here since there is still some one in Hydra

She ends up dying of starvation (a common cause of death in Natural Roses)

Armery - Blue Rose (Lust)

She has always been friends with him

She’s older than his adopted father and she found EJ when he died.

Asmodeus and Bezelba are siblings and the dynamic carries over once again.

She ends up dying because of pollution of her river and lake- the dungeon starts dumping bodies in there and it messes her up

Selcra - Violet Rose (Envy)

REALLY wanted to be with EJ but, at the time, it would be the equivalent of a 27yo fucking a 14yo

Selcra dies by suicide (biting himself until he bleeds to death)

Once EJ returns to Hydra, there’s a bit of tension, but Selcra found someone new and so did EJ.

Sharbor - Amber Rose (Greed)

These two only get along once they’re in Hydra.

He tried his hardest to kill her while she was on earth, but she was too fast. So, he killed her mate instead.

They got along after they shared a dance during Decreshmarth (a holiday for Mammon and physical expression)

Zcer - Golden Rose (Greed)*

he actually kills Zcer on Earth since beef between Mammon and Bezelba kinda carries over.

Veila - Nightshade Rose (Wrath)

These two bonded over how they’re both the last ones.

Veila is the last Nightshade demon… at all

And we already know EJ is the last Crimson Rose on Earth.

So the two comfort each other when they need it

Kikurik - Crimson Rose (Gluttony)

Yuppp you heard me!!!

There are other ones like him!

Except for the fact that this is his adopted father and the only other one

I’m gonna do a separate post on what goes on with Eashar and Kikurik, but it is worth pointing out.

Out of everything in existence, there is only a few he will listen to without obligation (he has to listen to the children of Hydra and Death of Hydra)

One of them is Kikurik.

I’ll go into this later with the rose demons and the children of Hydra, but Gluttony Demons are huge.

EJ is about 204cm (6’7”) and towers over most, but THIS DEMON is roughly 264cm (8’6”) I think- I’m bad at conversations 💀

He is considered to be fully grown and is old as dirty. For reference- he lived on earth long enough to see both the fall of the Roman Empire and The American Civil War. And he is still alive in Hydra.

So, yeah. EJ is scared of him in a respectful way, ofc

Very much a daddy’s kid, but that’s very biased considering the deal with EJ I’m definitely doing another post on JUST these two.

Divider Creds: Sister-Lucifer

Header Creds: Sister-Lucifer

[theroseempress]

Comet and sun for the space ask game! ^.^

☄️ Comet - Who is your most self destructive character? Why are they like that?

Mmmmmm... probably Sable from this short piece I wrote the other day. Man's never met the concept of self-preservation in his life. As to why he's like that, being a child soldier kind of screws you up.

Felix also has a pretty strong tendency to do things even though he knows they're a bad idea.... actually I have quite a few characters who are rather self-sacrificial/self-destructive, now that I think about it. Why he's like that is a combination of his natural personality and [spoilers].

☀️ Sun - Who is your most cheerful and positive character? Why are they like that?

Valentin, probably. Or Nyla- she's from one of my older projects. Val's like that largely because he is what I like to describe as a 'violent optimist'; as in he is violently optimistic. Someone has to be, after all. he's also the only POV character in TGC who isn't at least lightly traumatized so that does help

Thank you for the ask! :)

[novaursa]

I have way to many idea so sorry for everything I’m going to send you 👉🏼👈🏼

Aemond x Niece (maybe a Nyra x daemon before her wedding!?)

He’s obsessed with her, she represents everything he want, she’s a perfect Targaryen white hair, purple eyes, huge dragon vermithor or cannibal?

But she’s engaged to Jace and he hate the fact that she is “given” to a bastard. So he tried by all things to make her his, he wish so hard to be found with her in a bad position that they obliged them to get married.

He make sure that Larys Steong see them, he even say to the maester to give her moon tee or medicinal herb for morning sickness ?! Otto find that about the maester and decided to marry them ( daemon and nyra are not ok they say It not real) and aemond took that personally and decided that they will have a child right now 🫣

The Dragon's Mark

- Summary: When Aemond found out about your betrothal to Jacaerys, he knew how all seven hells could not hold him back from taking what was rightfully his.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: Reader is the firstborn child of Rhaenyra. She had a reader with Daemon before she involved herself with Harwin Strong. Daemon legitimized the reader. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've changed the thing with a Maester to make it more believable. I hope you don't mind.

Aemond sat across from his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, and his grandsire, Ser Otto Hightower, in the great hall of the Red Keep. The torchlight cast shadows over their faces, making their expressions harder to read, not that Aemond was paying much attention. Their voices drifted to him as if through a thick fog, muffled and distant. He stared at the tapestry on the wall opposite, its intricate designs of dragons entwined in battle barely registering in his mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the image of you.

You, to him, were the embodiment of Valyrian perfection, a true daughter of Old Valyria. Your silver hair fell in soft waves, catching the light like molten silver, and your violet eyes held the depth of the ancient Targaryen bloodline. You are more than a princess; you are power personified, a dragonrider of Vermithor, the mighty bronze beast who had bonded with you when you were but a girl. Aemond could still remember the first time he had seen you astride Vermithor, your small form commanding the great dragon with ease, your expression fierce and unyielding.

Now, you are a woman grown, and in Aemond's eyes, you are perfect. You are the one he deserves, a match that would not only strengthen the bloodline but would also solidify his place in their shared history. He could see it so clearly in his mind: you by his side, the two of you ruling as a power unmatched, with dragons and fire at your command. 

The thought of you set a slow burn within him, a mix of admiration and desire. He had always been captivated by your strength, your beauty, and the fire in your spirit that matched his own. You are everything he had ever wanted, everything he needed. A true Targaryen, unmarred by the weaknesses of others. Aemond clenched his jaw, pushing down the surge of emotions that threatened to spill over.

His attention snapped back to the present as his mother's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and clear. 

"...Rhaenyra has decided to marry her daughter to Jacaerys," Alicent said, her tone carefully neutral, but there was a hint of distaste in her eyes. 

Aemond's world tilted on its axis, the words crashing over him like a wave. His blood ran cold as the realization settled in. Rhaenyra intended to wed her daughter, you, the one Aemond desired above all others, to that bastard Jacaerys. His hands curled into fists on the table, the knuckles white as the force of his anger rose within him, threatening to consume him whole.

"A match to solidify her claim, no doubt," Otto added, his voice dry and calculated as always. "She seeks to ensure her line continues to hold power, binding her daughter to her eldest son."

Aemond could barely hear them now over the roaring in his ears. The thought of you, bound to Jacaerys, of the union of your bloodlines through a marriage that had nothing to do with honor or strength but everything to do with Rhaenyra's desperate attempt to secure her position—it was unbearable. 

His mind raced with images of Jacaerys, the boy who had always stood in his way, who had always been favored despite the question of his parentage, despite his weaknesses. And now, to think that he would have you, the woman Aemond had longed for, the woman who should have been his—!

"Aemond." Alicent's voice broke through his fury, pulling his gaze to her. She looked at him with concern, as if sensing the turmoil within him. "What are you thinking?"

Aemond blinked, his breath coming in sharp, controlled breaths as he forced himself to calm. He could not reveal the depth of his feelings here, not now. He met his mother's gaze, his expression hardening into a mask of indifference.

"Nothing, mother," he said, his voice low and measured. "Only that Rhaenyra's choices will bring about her own downfall."

Alicent frowned slightly, but before she could press further, Otto interjected, his eyes narrowing as he studied his grandson. "This marriage will complicate things, Aemond. We must be cautious in how we respond. Rhaenyra seeks to bind the loyalty of her supporters through this match."

Aemond nodded stiffly, though his thoughts were still far from the politics of it all. He would not let this happen. He would not allow Jacaerys to take what should be his. 

"Perhaps," Aemond began slowly, "we should consider our own alliances more carefully. There are other ways to weaken Rhaenyra's position."

Otto raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in Aemond's tone. "What do you suggest?"

Aemond met his grandsire's gaze, a plan already forming in his mind, a way to ensure that you would not be lost to him, that Jacaerys would not win. His lips curled into a small, cold smile.

"There are always ways to turn the tide," he said softly. "We need only find the right pressure points."

Alicent looked between them, her unease growing, but Aemond paid her no mind. His thoughts were solely on you, on the woman who had unknowingly claimed his heart. He would have you, no matter the cost. You will be his, and nothing, not even Rhaenyra’s schemes, would stand in his way.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly as you sat at your vanity, the brush gliding through your long, silver hair. Each stroke was methodical, a ritual you found soothing as the day's events faded into the quiet of the evening. You took a deep breath, savoring the calm, but beneath the surface, your thoughts were a swirling current of unspoken feelings, thoughts that often turned to him—Aemond.

The quiet attraction you felt for him had always been there, lurking in the periphery of your mind, but never voiced, never acted upon. There was something in the way he carried himself, the intensity of his gaze, that made your heart quicken whenever he was near. Yet, the distance between you had always remained, unbridgeable, or so you had thought.

You placed the brush down, your hair now smooth and shining in the firelight, ready to retire for the night. But just as you were about to stand, a knock echoed through the chamber, pulling you from your reverie. You frowned, surprised by the interruption at this hour. Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and there he was, Aemond, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Aemond," you whispered, your voice betraying a hint of the surprise you felt.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His presence filled the space, commanding yet silent, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eye, that piercing violet eye, locked onto yours, and you felt your breath catch. There was something different about him tonight, an intensity that set your heart racing.

"I... wasn't expecting you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond moved closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "I needed to see you," he said quietly, his tone carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of leather and smoke clinging to his clothes.

You swallowed, your mind racing as he reached out, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in his eye, a hunger, a longing that mirrored the unspoken desires you had kept locked away for so long.

"I've thought about you," you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But I never—"

He silenced you with a look, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before tilting your chin up, his gaze darkening. "No more words," he murmured, and then his lips were on yours, claiming them with a fervor that took your breath away.

The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a rush of heat and need that left you dizzy. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his tunic. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you felt the world narrow down to just the two of you, the fire, and the beating of your hearts.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady yourself. But before you could speak, before you could mention the name that had been on your mind earlier, he shook his head.

"Don't," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to hear his name tonight."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken plea, and let the thought of Jacaerys fade away, replaced by the man before you, the man who had captured your heart without either of you realizing it.

Aemond's hands moved to the ties of your gown, his fingers deftly undoing the knots, and you felt your pulse quicken as the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze as he took in the sight of you, bared before him. There was a reverence in his eyes, a deep appreciation that made your cheeks flush with heat.

He shed his own tunic, revealing the lean, strong lines of his body, the scars that marked him only adding to the allure. You reached out, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was all so surreal, so perfect, that you almost feared it was a dream.

Aemond's hands were gentle as he led you to the bed, laying you down with a care that made your heart ache. He moved over you, his gaze softening as he positioned himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that felt both new and familiar, as if you were made to fit together.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eye searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the smooth skin just beneath his patch. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want this, Aemond. I want you."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he entered you slowly, the sensation both sharp and sweet, a mingling of pleasure and pain as he took your maidenhead. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, but the discomfort quickly faded, replaced by a sense of fullness, of completeness, as he buried himself deep within you.

Aemond stilled for a moment, his breathing ragged as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your hair spread out like a silver halo on the pillow, your eyes wide with trust and desire. The knowledge that you were his, that you had given yourself to him, filled him with a satisfaction that went beyond mere conquest. It was everything he had ever imagined, and more.

Tomorrow, he knew, the servants who served Larys Strong would change the sheets, and the evidence of your union would be seen by those who needed to know. But for now, all that mattered was the here and now, the way you felt beneath him, the way your body responded to his.

You urged him to move, your hips shifting beneath him, and he obliged, setting a slow, steady rhythm that had you both gasping for breath. The pleasure built between you, a slow burn that grew hotter with every thrust, every kiss, until it was all-consuming.

Aemond was lost in the sensation, the feel of you, the sound of your breathless moans, the way your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. He could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting as you both neared the edge.

As you reached the pinnacle, your release washing over you in a wave of pleasure, he buried his face in your neck, his voice rough with emotion as he urged you to call his name, to let the world know who you belonged to. "Say my name," he breathed, his words a plea and a command all at once.

"Aemond," you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your body trembling with the force of your release. "Aemond, please..."

And then he was there, the last threads of his control snapping as he spilled himself inside you, his own release ripping through him with a force that left him trembling. Your name was on his lips, a whispered prayer, a declaration of everything he felt, everything he could never put into words.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the lingering echoes of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. Aemond held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both came down from the heights of your passion.

In that moment, there were no words, no need for them. Everything you had ever wanted, everything you had ever felt, was conveyed in the way you held each other, in the way your bodies fit together so perfectly, so naturally.

As you drifted into sleep, Aemond's arms wrapped around you, you knew that everything had changed, and there was no going back.

The morning arrived as Aemond moved with purposeful strides. His mind was sharp, focused, each step a calculated part of the plan he had set into motion. The events of the previous night played over in his mind, not with regret, but with satisfaction. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had intended.

He turned a corner and spotted Grand Maester Mellos in the distance, the elderly man’s stooped figure moving slowly down the hall. Aemond quickened his pace, his boots echoing against the stone floor, and within moments, he was at the Maester’s side.

“Grand Maester Mellos,” Aemond greeted, his voice measured and calm, though there was an undercurrent of urgency that could not be missed.

The Maester looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of the prince. “Prince Aemond,” he replied, bowing his head slightly in respect. “How may I assist you this morning?”

Aemond’s expression was inscrutable as he spoke, his voice low, as if to ensure their conversation remained private. “I require your expertise, Maester. There is a matter concerning Princess Y/N—my niece—that needs your immediate attention.”

Mellos frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. “Of course, Your Grace. What seems to be the issue? Is Princess Y/N unwell?”

Aemond shook his head, his gaze intense as he met the Maester’s eyes. “No, she is not unwell. However, I wish for her to be examined… to ensure that she has not been harmed.”

Mellos’ confusion deepened, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to understand. “Harmed, Your Grace? I do not follow. What examination, exactly, do you require?”

Aemond hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he continued, his voice steady and deliberate. “Last night, she and I... shared an intimate moment. I want to ensure that she was not hurt during our union, that she was not harmed in any way.”

The Maester’s face went pale, the full implication of Aemond’s words sinking in. His eyes widened slightly, and he took an involuntary step back, his hand trembling as he clutched the folds of his robes.

“Your Grace…” Mellos began, his voice shaky as he tried to comprehend the gravity of what had been revealed to him. “You… you wish for me to confirm that Princess Y/N was… that she…?”

Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on the Maester, his expression unwavering. “Yes,” he said simply, allowing the full weight of his words to settle between them. “I want you to ensure that she was not harmed. And if any trace of injury is found, I want you to inform me immediately.”

Mellos looked as though he might faint, the color draining from his face entirely. His mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what Aemond was asking, and the consequences that would follow. The bloodied sheets, the confirmation from the Grand Maester—these were not just symbols of a consummated union; they were a declaration of intent, a claim that could not be ignored by either Otto Hightower or Rhaenyra Targaryen.

“I… I understand, Your Grace,” Mellos stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But, Prince Aemond, surely you realize that such news… it will reach the ears of the Queen, and Prince Daemon…”

Aemond’s lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. “That is precisely what I intend, Maester. The sheets will speak for themselves, and your examination will confirm what is already known. My niece is now mine, and any plans to wed her to Jacaerys must be reconsidered.”

Mellos swallowed hard, the implications of Aemond’s words weighing heavily on him. The Prince’s plan was clear now, as was the role he had unwittingly been drawn into. The Maester nodded slowly, realizing that there was no turning back from what had been set in motion.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mellos finally said, his voice hoarse. “I shall see to it immediately.”

Aemond inclined his head, satisfied that his instructions would be carried out. He could see the fear in the Maester’s eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly as he turned to leave. But that fear was necessary, a tool to ensure that the plan would proceed without a hitch.

“Thank you, Grand Maester,” Aemond said, his voice as smooth as silk. “I trust that you will handle this matter with the utmost discretion.”

Mellos nodded quickly, his face still ashen as he hurried away, his steps faltering as though the weight of what he now carried was too much to bear.

Aemond watched him go, a sense of triumph settling over him. The seeds had been sown, and soon enough, they would bear the fruit he desired. His grandsire would be forced to recognize the union, and Rhaenyra would have no choice but to break the engagement to Jacaerys. There would be no way to deny him now.

As he turned and walked back down the corridor, a sense of satisfaction filled him. Everything was falling into place, just as he had envisioned. And as for the flushed and worried Grand Maester, he was merely the first to feel the ripple effects of the plan Aemond had so carefully crafted. Soon, everyone would understand that you belonged to him, and no one—not Jacaerys, not Rhaenyra, not even Daemon—could take you away from him now.

Aemond entered the chamber, summoned by his grandsire. The usual sense of foreboding that accompanied meetings in the Tower of the Hand was magnified tenfold by the figures waiting inside. Otto Hightower stood near the center of the room, his expression grave, while beside him stood Rhaenyra, her face a mask of barely concealed fury. But it was Daemon, pacing like a caged beast, whose presence dominated the space, his anger felt in the air.

Aemond, however, was unperturbed. He walked with measured steps, his posture erect, his face a picture of calm satisfaction. His eye met Daemon’s, and he could see the rage simmering there, a wildfire barely restrained. Aemond’s lips curled into a slight smile, knowing full well that it would only infuriate Daemon further.

“You summoned me, grandsire?” Aemond’s voice was even, respectful, but with an edge of smugness that did not go unnoticed.

Otto cleared his throat, his gaze flicking between the furious Targaryens and his grandson. “Aemond, it has come to my attention—” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It has come to my attention, through certain… whispers, that Grand Maester Orwyle was called upon this morning to examine Princess Y/N. An examination that has confirmed… certain truths.”

Rhaenyra’s fists clenched at her sides, her violet eyes blazing with a fury that matched the fire of the dragons themselves. “How dare you,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “How dare you lay a hand on her!”

Before Aemond could respond, Daemon stepped forward, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister. His face was a mask of barely restrained violence, and for a moment, it seemed he might strike Aemond down where he stood.

“Daemon,” Otto warned, his voice firm, though there was a thread of unease beneath it. “Violence will solve nothing here.”

“Violence is all I see fit to deal with this insolent whelp!” Daemon barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “He dares to defile my daughter, and you expect me to stand idly by?”

Aemond, unflinching, met Daemon’s gaze head-on, his own expression hardening. “I have done what was necessary, uncle,” he said coolly. “She is mine now, and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

Rhaenyra’s voice broke through the tension, sharp and cold. “Her betrothal to Jacaerys has been agreed upon for years. You cannot simply cast that aside as if it means nothing.”

Otto interjected, his voice measured, though the urgency was clear. “In light of these recent events, the betrothal to Prince Jacaerys must be reconsidered. It is in the best interest of both houses that Princess Y/N and Prince Aemond are wed, to avoid any… further complications.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with a deadly light as he turned on Otto. “You would sell my daughter to this boy after what he has done? You forget yourself, Hightower. She will not be tangled into your schemes!”

Aemond stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “This is not a matter of scheming, uncle. It is done. She is mine now, and there is nothing that can undo it. You cannot deny what has been consummated.”

Daemon’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. Aemond’s words, as blunt and provocative as they were, held the weight of truth, and that was what infuriated Daemon most of all.

“The marriage must happen,” Otto pressed, sensing the shift in the room. “And it should happen soon, before word spreads and this matter becomes a scandal that neither house can afford.”

Aemond did not miss the opportunity to twist the knife deeper. “Indeed,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with a satisfaction that only inflamed Daemon’s ire further. “The ceremony should be conducted in the traditions of old Valyria, where fire and blood bind us as one. And it should be done with haste.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room before delivering the final blow. “For I hope that soon, another dragon will be born of our union.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, and Rhaenyra’s face turned ashen, her fury giving way to something colder, more calculating. Daemon, however, looked ready to strike again, his entire body tensed with the desire to lash out, to wipe that smug look off Aemond’s face.

But Aemond stood tall, his gaze steady, unflinching in the face of Daemon’s rage. He knew he had won. The plan had worked flawlessly. The whispers from Larys Strong, the bloodied sheets, the Maester’s examination—all had been carefully orchestrated to force this very outcome.

A tense silence stretched between them, thick and oppressive, until finally, it was Rhaenyra who spoke, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. “If this is to be done,” she said, “it will be done according to our customs, and with the respect due to our house. But know this, Aemond—should you ever bring harm to my daughter, not even your dragon will save you from my wrath.”

Aemond inclined his head slightly, accepting her warning with the same unyielding calm he had maintained throughout. “As you wish, sister. I will see to it that Y/N is treated with the honor she deserves.”

Daemon said nothing, but the look he leveled at Aemond spoke volumes. It was a promise, a vow that if Aemond ever crossed a line, there would be a reckoning, and it would be brutal.

But for now, Aemond had what he wanted. He had claimed you, and soon, the two of you will be bound in marriage. The thought of it sent a thrill of triumph through him, and though he kept his expression carefully neutral, inside, he reveled in his victory.

Otto, sensing that the matter was settled, nodded gravely. “Then it is decided. The preparations will begin at once.”

Without another word, Aemond turned and left the chamber, leaving behind a flushed, furious Daemon and a conflicted Rhaenyra. He knew that the days ahead would be tense, that there would be fallout from his actions, but none of it mattered now. You were his, and soon the world would see it, would understand that he was not to be trifled with.

And as he walked away, his thoughts were already on the future, on the life he would build with you, a future forged in fire and blood, just as the old ways dictated.

[criminalamnesia]

Pretty like the sun

warnings: reader described as having long, silver hair; no use of y/n; female!reader; Targaryen!reader; sneaking around with harwin; little sliver of angst but that’s it; fluff; not proofread sorry

summary: you spend a morning with harwin.

author’s note: I miss harwin strong. that is all.

The soft, early morning light poked through the thin fabric covering your window. You stirred in bed, eyes scrunching tighter together as you attempted to will yourself back asleep.

“Good morning,” Harwin’s chest rumbled with the sound of his voice. He was almost whispering, as if afraid to spook you. One of his hands trailed up your back, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin.

“Mhm,” you grumbled, refusing to open your eyes. You snuggled closer to his side, your head laid right over his heart. The reassuring rhythm of its beat brought a small smile to your lips.

“What time is it?” You asked after a moment of comfortable silence, your eyes still closed. You could feel the heat of the sun now, its rays more intense as it rose in the sky.

“Almost time for me to go,” he replied. The hand trailing up your spine moved to rest in your hair, his fingers lightly scratching at your scalp. His free hand moved over your body, looping around you and pulling you impossibly closer.

It was always like this in the mornings you spent together. Hushed words and warm touches. The two of you tangled together, holding each other as close as possible. This time was sacred to the both of you. It was stolen from the rest of the Keep, something just for the two of you to share, damning the rest of them.

“Do you have to?” You asked, but you already knew the answer as you finally opened your eyes. You tilted your head back to look up at your lover. His eyes met yours, and he gave a small smile as he nodded.

“You know I do, Princess. I cannot be caught in here, your father would have my head.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to plant a kiss to his sternum. He hummed in contentment.

“You underestimate my power in this keep, Ser. At most, my father would have your finger. Maybe a hand, if it were a bad day for the King,” you grinned as you teased him, meeting his gaze once more.

It was Harwin’s turn to roll his eyes now. His fingers dug deeper into your scalp, massaging the skin there. You groaned and swatted his hand away, knowing his actions would put you back to sleep.

As much as you wanted to succumb to the welcoming embrace of slumber once more, you knew you’d regret it. Harwin wouldn’t want to wake you, and so he’d slip from the room quietly, depriving you of the chance to wish his farewell. You despised it when he did that– and he knew as much, yet he still tried.

He told you once that he hated seeing the look in your eyes as he left, and that’s why he tried to lull you back to sleep. He didn’t want to watch the sadness and anger seep into your expression as it did every time he snuck away.

It wasn’t sadness and anger aimed towards him, of course. It was at this whole situation– the fact that you two had to hide your affections. The King had made it quite clear you were to remain untouched and unmarried until your sister, Rhaenyra, found a match.

You disobeyed his wishes, but what the King didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him– at least that’s what you believed.

“Where do they have you stationed today?” You questioned the man below you as you turned your gaze to the villainous window that disturbed the peace the night gave both of you. “Guarding ‘Nyra again?”

“Guarding you, actually,” he said, and you sighed.

Having your lover guard you was a double-edged sword. You were with him all day, but you were not allowed to truly be with him. It was almost torture, how the man you loved was right beside you and you couldn’t touch him. You couldn’t even speak to him the way you wanted. You had to remain proper, as did he, and you had to keep up this carefully constructed facade of a princess and her loyal guard.

“You do not wish to be accompanied by me today?” He asked, and you finally pushed yourself up, your hand resting on his chest to support yourself.

The arm he had looped around you fell, his grip now at your waist. His thumb caressed the skin there as he watched your face with concern. His other hand remained in your hair, moving to brush strands of silver from your eyes.

“You know that is not the issue,” you told him.

“Sometimes it is the issue. Remember just a fortnight ago, when you asked for another guard just because I slipped out the night before?”

“You did not tell me you had to go,” you said as you shuffled over to the other side of the bed. His hands retracted from your body to let you move.

“I was not aware I needed to ask your permission to get a glass of water,” he retorted, and you scoffed.

“The last time you snuck out during the night, it was because you were sent to guard my sister for her two week journey to see whoever that lord was. Lannister? Baratheon? I do not recall— but it does not matter. You did not tell me you were leaving!”

“Love–” he began, but you spoke again.

“No, I know, Harwin. You did not know either. I am not trying to fight,” you reached a hand towards him, which he clasped in one of his own. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you smiled.

“I just worry for you. I fear one day you will slip out before I can say goodbye, and I will never see you again.”

Harwin frowned, his eyes trained on you as he gave your hand a small squeeze. You inhaled deeply. “I do not want to keep sneaking around,” you admitted.

“Nor do I, but–” he began.

“But we must,” you finished his sentence with a sigh. “Just until my sister finally meets her match. Which will probably be after we are all dead.”

Harwin laughed and used his grip on your hand to pull you back into him. You gave a sound of surprise as you fell onto his chest, both his hands snaking around your body to keep you glued to him.

“The Princess will wed soon, my love. Your father will make sure of it. And if not, then I am sure you will make sure of it. Gods help Rhaenyra if it gets to that point. You are quite scary when you are angry.”

“As scary as Daemon?” You questioned, your eyebrows raised as you glanced up at Harwin. A teasing grin painted your lips.

“Oh, much scarier. The Rogue Prince wishes he was as terrifying as you.”

“Careful, Ser,” you giggled. “My uncle would feed you to Caraxes for such an insult.”

“It would be an honorable death, dying to defend my Princess.”

You shuffled upwards so that your face was right above his. Your hair fell around the both of you, creating another barrier the sun streaming through the window fought to break through.

“You are insufferable,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“Am I?” He asked with a grin.

“Mhm,” you hummed in answer before lowering your lips to his.

The kiss lasted a few wonderful, peaceful seconds before a sobering knock sounded at the door.

“Princess!” Your lady-in-waiting called from behind the door, her knock becoming louder as she tried to rouse you. Unbeknownst to her, you were very awake at the moment.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your lover who was very much naked, very much still in your bed, and very much late to his post.

“Princess, are you awake? Are you in there? I don’t see Ser Harwin out here. Are you alright?” You could hear panic begin to sneak into the woman’s tone. You knew how it looked to her– a locked door, no guard, and a silent princess? She probably thought you were dead.

You pulled yourself from Harwin’s embrace once more and hurried out of bed, reaching for the night clothes you had discarded the night before. Harwin followed suit in rushing from bed. He began grabbing at clothes and armor, trying to be silent but quick as he redressed.

“I’m awake!” You shouted to your lady-in-waiting as you ran a hand through your hair. You turned to watch as Harwin gave up on buttoning his shirt and began gathering his armor in his hands.

“You have got to go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“I am trying! This damn armor–” he groaned as he nearly dropped his metal chest plate. You cringed as you watched his barely catch it, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. That sound would’ve had your lady busting down your door in an instant.

“Princess, are you alright in there?” You heard your lady ask as the door knob jiggled.

“Quite!” You yelled back, your pitch rising in panic. You rushed to Harwin’s side and began snatching up the remaining pieces of his armor. You ushered him to the secret passage in your room, prying open the door and all but pushing him inside. “Just looking for something!”

You pushed the armor in your hands into Harwin’s, who was looking at you with a wide grin.

“What?” You asked incredulously, curious as to how he could be smiling at being nearly caught.

“Looking a little disheveled, Princess.”

“Gods, go!” You scolded him with no real bite to your words. You shoved at his broad shoulders, careful not to disturb the mountain of metal in his arms.

He gave a quiet laugh as he swiftly ducked down to kiss your forehead. “See you soon, Princess.”

With that, he disappeared down the dark passageway and you all but slammed the door closed. You quickly concealed it once more before smoothing down your nightdress, taking a deep breath, and opening the door for your lady-in-waiting.

“Gods, I thought you were being killed!” She cried, her voice shrill as she surged into the room.

You gave a breathless laugh as you shut the door behind her, noticing a forgotten trinket of Harwin’s laying on the stone floor. You swiftly kicked it under your wardrobe before your lady turned to face you.

“Where was Ser Harwin? He was not by your door,” she questioned as she began to assess your appearance.

“Oh, I sent him to fetch me a glass of water well before you arrived. He never returned. I suppose he was roped into something more important.”

“Hm,” your lady hummed, unconvinced, but she didn’t press the topic further.

The two of you fell into comfortable silence as you went through your routine of dressing.

Finally, as your lady finished clasping a ruby necklace around your neck, she cleared her throat to speak.

“Did he at least take all his armor with him this time?”

Your cheeks turned a deep red, and your lady laughed.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 15: A Prelude of Power

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Nyra's mind is an island and a figure from the past who resides there, helps.

Word count: 6k (Enjoy!!)

Warnings: Erotic fantasy in the beginning, sexual assault (not rape) at the end.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Mor was in a dimly lit room. A long mirror caught her eye and she saw herself wearing her favourite lingerie. Red and lace. A silhouette was behind her, walking towards her. Mor’s breath hitched when the face of the person was revealed in the reflection. 

“You’re beautiful.” Nyra whispered into her ear and then turned her face. “Isn’t she?” That question was directed at someone else. “Turn around for me.” Mor trembled and did as told. 

Nyra Archeron was a fucking fantasy come true, wearing black panties and a sheer robe. Mor stared at those round breasts and the hard nipples. She whimpered when Nyra took a step backward. And another. 

Mor remembered that playfulness from when Nyra had flirted with her during dinner and now it had changed into something sensual. But what had changed? Was it Nyra’s tone, the way she carried herself, the way she touched and teased?

“Please.” But Mor didn’t even know what she was begging for. 

“Desperate, too.” A voice from her right spoke. Nyra laughed and Mor looked at the one who had just spoken. 

Nesta Archeron lounged on a couch, the curve of her hip being prominent as she lay on her side. She had a glass of wine and the table near her had a bottle and a book. Nesta rose with her trademark grace and walked closer. Her robe was opaque—a deep red if Mor had to guess the colour. But if her next guess was correct, there was nothing beneath it. 

Nesta brought her wind glass to Mor’s mouth and she drank. A few droplets escaped her mouth and trailed down her mouth, down her neck to her left breast. A hand was now around her waist and she was tugged towards Nyra who leaned in and gently licked the wine as much as it was still on her face. 

Mor ached all over. She wanted their hands and lips on her body and she wanted her chance to worship them. 

“What were you begging for, sweet thing?” Nyra’s voice was as light as her touch. 

“Please.” She begged again but still not knowing what she even wanted. 

“Are you already senseless?” Nesta’s mocking voice began. “Even without starting?” She wore a cruel smirk and the red painted on her lips had a sharpening effect. 

Nesta removed that robe and confirmed the truth behind Mor’s suspicions. She was naked and glorious. Nesta’s hand came to her cheek, her thumb caressing it almost lovingly. The hand moved to her nape and ascended to her scalp. It descended and touched the tips of her hair. “Your hair is soft.” 

Nesta’s other hand came and her fingers traced the band of her panties. Her thumb found its way inside and began caressing her hip. Mor was already breathing heavily, hands clenching at her sides. “Do you want us to touch you?” 

“Or do you want to touch us?” Nyra asked. Mor really could not take her eyes away from Nyra’s lips. She wanted to kiss her. 

A knock on her door brought her back to reality. She was in the townhouse, in her room staring absentmindedly at her study table where writing instruments and papers lay scattered. Writing unsent letters to Viviane was a very masochistic way of coping that she’d started nearly fifty years ago. 

Presently, she was supposed to be writing another letter but instead had begun fantasising about the Archeron twins. Another knock on the door gained her irritation. She stood up, marched towards the door, and opened it with unnecessary strength. 

Cassian stood there, a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. “Need some company?” 

Mor could’ve kissed him but she doubted he’d appreciate that. Especially with his fuming desire for Nesta Archeron that was undoubtedly a mating bond slowly weaving. 

Guilt crawled around her neck like a snake, hissing at her. Condemning her for desiring Nesta. For desiring Nyra. Both females with mating bonds leading to the two people who deserved to be loved the most. And here she was, stashing away her lust for the twins only for more of it to be formed. 

Guilt made Mor allow Cassian into her room. The urge to forget it made her drink. And by the time she had woken up sometime in the middle of the night, Cassian had already left and she had been tucked in. 

Mor wandered around her own room like a ghost. Not understanding how Rhysand could collaborate with Keir and Eris at the same time. The view from the window, Velaris—her home, was now a heartbreaking one. Mor sank to the floor right there and mourned like everything had already ended. 

The next morning, Morrigan had donned her mask. A red lipstick, jewellery, a red dress and she walked like a queen to the nearest bakery and bought a few sweets. Rhys had found her and they talked. She even bought some for the Archeron twins knowing that they had a sweet tooth. She returned to the townhouse just in time to see Azriel have his breakfast as he read a few papers. A few letters were on the dining table. 

Neither of them spoke to each other as Mor opened them and began reading. From the insignia of each court on the envelopes, she knew these were the responses from Day, Dawn, and Winter. Azriel had finished his meal and left wordlessly when Feyre walked in. 

“You look like a team of horses trampled you.” The words were out before Mor even realised. She was supposed to be angry at Feyre. At her High Lady for the performance she had orchestrated with the High Lord last night. 

“Good.” And Feyre snatched her pastry. Mor did not like that but she ignored it and summoned a plate of carved melon.

“What’s that?” Feyre asked. Mor looked at her and did not know who she saw. Was this her friend, Feyre, or the High Lady of the Night Court? How different were these two people?

“The first of the High Lords’ responses.” Mor did not care if she sounded too sweet. Or sarcastic. 

“That pleasant, hmm?” 

“Helion’s came first this morning. Between all the innuendo, I think he said he’d be willing to. . . join us.” 

“That’s good—isn’t it?”

Mor shrugged her shoulders and then briefed her on the contents of the responses. After the talk about the responses, Feyre spoke. “About last night-”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing.” The following conversation was a lie—Mor knew it was. Feyre was new to all this and a lie from Mor would probably help her ease into this. Pretending to be fine, pretending to be tough about her father and Eris—life was always going to demand a facade instead of her true self. 

**** 

The healer, Madja, had visited to check Elain. Nesta did not like her conclusion—to have Elain’s mate sit down with her to help her. Madja had also recommended a physical examination of the three sisters to ascertain their reproductive health since one of them had already started bleeding and they were the only Cauldron-Made fae in existence. 

“Call another healer.” Nesta demanded, not wanting Lucien anywhere near her sisters.

“Not if you’re going to bark them out of the house.” Feyre retorted.

“Call another healer.”

“Would you try it?” Feyre was now looking at Lucien who only looked awkward at the ongoing sisterly spat.

“Don’t you even attempt-”

“Be quiet.” Feyre snapped. Nesta blinked, her surprise evident. Feyre inhaled once, trying to calm herself down. “The mating bond helps. It helped me. It is helping Nyra. It can possibly help Elain.” 

“The bond is not helping Nyra. Azriel is.” Nesta mumbled, remembering her twin who was upstairs with her painful cramps. She looked at Feyre and breathed in to calm herself. 

“You know well it is not the mating bond I have an issue with.” Nesta spared Lucien a withering glance and he had the decency to look ashamed. 

“He will try. And if he doesn’t find anything amiss, we’ll consider bringing another healer.” Feyre had offered a compromise Nesta begrudgingly conceded to.

Feyre, Lucien, and Mor arranged tea while Nesta went to invite her sisters downstairs. She entered the room and saw Nyra sitting on the window sill, reading. Elain was simply staring outside. Nesta closed the door behind her and cleared her throat. “We’re having tea downstairs.” 

And that was all that she could manage. Elain rose, nodded her head, and entered the bathing chamber. 

“Very awkward of you to invite us for tea.” Nyra made a face that clearly demanded an explanation from Nesta. Once she received her explanation, Nyra seemed unimpressed. “I don’t really know if we should trust him. He seems like the type of person who’d kidnap Elain.” 

“Yes, exactly!” Nesta suddenly felt that the idea of Lucien kidnapping Elain was a little far-fetched. “Wait, what?” 

“Well, he sided with Tamlin when the imbecile chose to turn to Hybern for allegedly saving Feyre. Then there’s the family issues since he had to flee Autumn and Spring. We know he’s in Night for her so I mean. . . and he’s only here because of the mating bond, not because he ever knew her before this. So. There’s probably a good chance he could steal her away because clearly, there’s no one else here he’d care about.” 

The only reason why Nesta had been so distrustful of Lucien was that he was complicit in what happened in Hybern. The possibility of what could happen next was not one she’d considered. 

****

Tea time was awkward. Mor had prepared the herbal tea for her and Nyra was for it to cool down. A cushion was on her lap and she was curled at Nesta’s side. 

It started off as a silent tea drinking session. Nyra watched Mor and Feyre who looked too serious. Nesta was stoic but the moment Elain swiftly set down her teacup and rose, she shot to her feet and Nyra’s head that had been tucked against her side fell on the sofa. 

Nyra blinked, her upper body rising from falling to the bare sofa so swiftly. She stood up and by the time she was nearing, Lucien was already apologising. 

“What did you do?” Nesta was no different than a warrior wielding her blade. 

“Nothing.” Lucien said to her and then turned to Elain. “I’m sorry if that unsettled you.” 

“It felt strange.” Elain spoke as she walked towards Nesta. She walked past, halted at a space between her older sisters, and then looked back at him. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” 

“I’m sorry.” Lucien’s apology had the value of dust in Nesta’s eyes but the lady of silver flames turned around when her sister began speaking. 

“Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black.” Nyra closed her eyes and squeezed Elain’s hand. 

Nesta joined them, masking her frustration and devastation. “What can we get you, Elain?” 

“Sunshine.” And the three sisters left for the garden in the back. Elain sat next to the flowers while her older sisters watched from a distance from the doorway, flanking each side while leaning their shoulders against it. 

“What if she’s not. . . mad?” Nyra began. Nesta looked at her and waited for her to continue. “What if. . . whatever power she got from the Cauldron is showing her something?” 

Nesta looked quite unimpressed. “I have no idea what you read in those horror novels of yours.”

Nyra clicked her tongue. “Think of it like this. You and I can see certain things with our power. Something that our normal vision does not allow us to see.”

“We have. . . forms within us.” Nesta found it difficult to articulate what their power truly was. “Beasts, perhaps. But Elain. . .”

“Have you ever tried looking at Elain with that power?” Nyra asked. 

“No.”

“Then I guess it’s high time we did.” And before Nesta could say anything, Nyra’s eyes glowed like gems. Under the sunlight, her gaze was divine. Nesta wondered how different were the blue of Nyra’s eyes and Azriel’s siphons and if it was a poetic coincidence. “Oh.”

Nesta watched her twin’s eyes dim and the Archeron blue reappeared. “Well, she is bright.” 

“Bright?” Feyre’s voice joined in, her head now on Nyra’s shoulder. The youngest wrapped her hands around Nyra’s waist and pressed her palms against her belly enough to give Nyra some relief.

“Blindingly.” Nyra placed a hand on Feyre’s cheek and began stroking it absentmindedly. Shadows curled around her fingers, effectively taking her hand away from Feyre as the dark strands began playing with her fingers. 

“Blindingly bright.” Nesta mused. “No form?”

“A silhouette of a woman covered with many eyes.” Nyra looked a little disgusted. “Very much like a character from a horror novel.” More shadows gathered near her waist.

“Horror novel?” Cassian spoke. The sisters turned around to see three Illyrians watching them. “Is that what you read? I thought you shared Nesta’s preferences.”

“Do you want me to recommend a few horror novels?” Nyra’s eyes shone with wild mischief and she looked at Azriel who waited for what she would say next. “One of them features a seemingly courageous Illyrian general who once visited a library and-”

“All right. We get it.” Cassian grumbled.

Rhysand tucked a few stray hairs behind Feyre’s ear and stood behind her. 

“How are the cramps, Nyra?” Azriel asked kindly. Nyra turned to him and then looked at Feyre’s hands pressed to her belly, then looked at him and shook her head.

“Horrible as usual. What have you mischievous marauders been up to this morning?” Nyra asked and Cassian looked dramatically offended.

“We brought cake.” Rhys announced. Nyra visibly brightened only to grimace again at another wave of abdominal pain. Feyre pressed rubbed Nyra’s belly in soothing motions. Cassian was standing behind Nesta and Azriel was in between his brothers. And somehow, they could still see outside where Elain sat looking at the clouds and then at the flowers. 

“Continuing our earlier conversation, so she’s not. . . insane?” It pained Nesta to say the word. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Nesta looked a little relieved at Nyra’s words. “She’s an Archeron. We’ve all got that bit of insanity within us.” Nesta’s relief turned into disbelief and she wasted no time in smacking Nyra’s arm, carefully avoiding Feyre. 

“You know what I mean.” Nesta hissed. A laugh from Cassian and she was already glaring at him. The general promptly shut his mouth. 

“Thank you for the supporting evidence.” Nyra gave Nesta a cheeky smile before she turned to look at the skies, her smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “I think she sees a lot of things. With all those eyes.” 

“A seer?” Azriel spoke. Nyra turned to him immediately. The shadowsinger saw her eagerly waiting for him to explain. “There have been records of people being able to see what’s happening elsewhere. Sometimes, into the future.”

“What about what she just said?” Rhysand spoke, completely unnerved. “Twin ravens, one black and one white—was it?”

“We’re twins.” Nesta remarked. “But ravens?”

“What if it’s just about a couple of birds?” 

“Should we be alert against birds?” 

“I really don’t like the way she said it.” Feyre’s arms around Nyra’s belly tightened. In return, the older sister brought her fingers to the younger’s cheek. 

“Will a library have any records about seers?” Nyra looked back at Azriel. 

“Maybe. I myself heard about them from the inmates.” Azriel’s reply had piqued Nyra’s curiosity enough that she stood straight, turned to her side and leaned her back against the doorway. Nesta repeated the same action and Cassian suddenly became more alert.

“Inmates?” Nesta asked. 

“There’s a Prison. The Bone Carver is one of the inmates.” Rhysand was the one who spoke and mentally granted his permission to his brothers to answer any questions the sisters may have no matter how confidential the information was. 

“The one who wants the mirror.” Nyra whispered, watching the shadows and moving her fingers to play with them. 

“Dear Amren was an inmate.” And the twins looked at Cassian with wide eyes when he’d revealed that bit of information. Nesta remembered something about that from last night and Nyra remembered something about that from what Nesta had told her. 

“You revoked her sentence?” Nyra asked Rhys. 

“She escaped.” And Cassian repeated the events of the previous night with greater detail and focused on Amren. Nesta had not understood much of it since she was entirely new to the world of fae. Any questions the twins had were immediately clarified by the males. 

“And now you want this Bone Carver out?” Nyra looked between Rhysand and Feyre.

“He’s a death god, if the legends are true. Having him on our side would be a huge bonus.” Feyre replied. 

“But if he has to give something up to exit the Prison, would he remain as powerful as he is inside the Prison?” Nyra questioned. Feyre opened her mouth and then closed it. 

“I don’t know but we need him regardless.” Cassian answered. “Every soldier is valuable. If they can even make a scratch on the enemy, we’d have a valuable asset.”

Nyra hummed and looked at the sky again and then at Elain.

“She seems lost.” And that was as pained as Nesta could ever sound.

“Do you think she’d notice if it rained?” Nyra mused. She raised a hand and waved it once, her fingers moving deftly. And even the sunny skies of Velaris obeyed her and light rain fell. 

“And she doesn’t even notice.” After a few seconds, Nyra commanded the rains to desist with another hand movement.

“Do you now have control over changing the weather?” Azriel asked. Nyra blinked at him, her head tilting to the side and his stupid shadows began announcing how adorable she was. As if he didn’t know that. 

“It’d be embarrassing if only my emotions controlled the weather. I’d like my will to have equal importance.” Nyra replied and then looked at Elain sitting outside, basking under the sunlight she’d said she needed. 

“The Bone Carver wants a mirror which once belonged to the Weaver, who happens to be his twin sister.” Rhys reminded. 

“Sounds vaguely familiar.” Nyra mumbled to herself but Rhys had heard her. 

“How is it familiar?” The High Lord pushed. The glare he got from his mate and his brothers hadn’t deterred him in his pursuit to question the lightning-wielder.

“The Cauldron gave me information. I barely managed to evade it but they’re all in my head, waiting to be sorted and studied.” Nyra let her head fall on Feyre’s shoulder. “I could sort and study something.” 

Rhysand’s eyes glowed but Azriel was the one who spoke, his voice like the morning mist—cool and fresh. “You want to do that?” 

“Yes.” She replied softly. “I need something to distract me from my own head.”

“Please stop whenever it gets uncomfortable.” Azriel wanted to take her in his arms and take her away from everything. Away from war and death gods and give her peace. He wanted her to smile freely, to live freely. But she wanted to do this. And he really couldn’t say anything against her. 

“I will.” She smiled, a little tired. “Feyre?” 

“Hm?” Feyre was currently hugging her sister. 

“Does this mirror have a name?” 

“The Ouroboros.” 

“Catch me if I fall.” And everyone standing there would. Nyra’s eyes glowed and she entered her own mind. And the shadows supported her weight to the extent Feyre could not. They transported Nyra and laid her down on the sofa. 

Her mind was an island surrounded by storms. The island had a house. The house she had been born in. The house that had been lost with their riches. And instead of it being decorated with the familiar furniture, the inside of it had many shelves and many piles of books and things and scrolls and papers on the floor. 

The shelves were marked and Nyra took her time arranging them according to her own sorting system since such a mess was unacceptable. 

Hours must have passed. She’d realised that most of these were information from her past lives and that there was information from seven of them. There were others but the records related to them were not much. One of the seven was a master of magic. Another was a warrior. Another, a scholar. And she perused the Scholar’s books. This person has accumulated the most knowledge. And there it was, the Ouroburous. 

Nyra read the information and then looked around her. She had sorted nearly all books of the magician’s and the warrior’s lives. The scholar’s knowledge would take a good amount of time she did not think she had. And then there was a song. 

A young girl’s voice. 

She saw the silhouette of a girl running from the corner of her eye. Her wings were noticeably familiar. 

Nyra chased the girl and saw that her wings resembled an Illyrian’s wings. The girl looked back and her eyes were closed. She had a very familiar appearance. And then after a turn, she stopped. She turned around fully. And Nyra was shocked at seeing the cruel slash on her neck. Blood still oozed from it but none of it had spilled on the floor. Her wings were brutally slashed and blood flowed. 

She couldn’t have been over sixteen. The girl with closed eyes walked forward, extended a hand with a book. Nyra took it and continued to look at her. “Say hello to them.” 

And the girl vanished like she had winnowed away. Into the night, stars, wind, and shadows. Nyra read the book and that remained the only record of the girl she sorted for now. She exited the house and now looked around for an exit. 

A thread was now on her left hand, on her ring finger. Red, very loose, and wrapped multiple times around that finger but it was there. Nyra wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before but she held the thread with her right hand. 

The thread led to a forest she had not seen before. She was sure the forest had not been there before but this was her only clue for now. Nyra entered the forest and the air of cedar and night chilled mist encompassed her. She breathed in and felt calm. 

Nyra suddenly had the urge to sit down and take  a nap. She continued to walk despite yawning multiple times. And then she stopped at a lake. She spotted a rock and sat on it. Nyra was tired and she closed her eyes to focus on breathing and suddenly, her senses were clouded. 

Nyra woke up, lying on a sofa and with Feyre by her side. She slowly willed her upper body to rise. Someone was immediately behind her with a glass of warm water and another hand on her back, gently helping her sit up straight. From the scarred hand that helped her drink the water, she recognised Azriel. The shadows were swimming around her in a worried frenzy. 

“Breathe.” And if an incredibly beautiful male were to tell you to breathe in an unbelievably deep and seductive voice, any rational female might have a heart attack. And Nyra’s heartbeat increased and she couldn’t even drink the water properly. 

Now, let it be known to the readers that Azriel usually does not assist anyone in drinking water. So when he did this for Nyra, he went blank as his  thumb made contact with her lips. Lips that were wet because she was drinking water from a glass that he was holding for her. Here, Azriel knew he could go mad. He could go feral over this touch but he wouldn’t. He shouldn’t. Even when she sat there with her back towards him. Holy gods, Nyra’s lips were soft. Azriel felt ravenous, like he had to drown in her essence. 

“You were unconscious for seven minutes.” Feyre told her. Nesta’s figure was coming closer and she immediately knelt, a hand on Nyra’s cheek. Elain was behind her. She took one look at the scene and then retired to the bedroom. 

“How are you feeling?” Nesta asked, clearly worried.

“I feel like I’ve woken up from a very long dream. And I’m tired.” 

“And mentally?” Rhysand asked, also kneeling down. 

“I feel. . . clear. Like I’ve enjoyed the first breeze of the world. It’s exhilarating.” And then she looked around. Cassian was eagerly sitting at the edge of his seat, observing her. Feyre was sitting on an ottoman just adjacent to the sofa. Azriel was behind her, supporting her back because he somehow seemed to know that she would lose her strength any second now. Amren and Mor were at a distance.  

“Oh, I have much to tell you.” Nyra began. And then she moved her legs to place them on the ground. Azriel’s hand remained on her back. 

“The Weaver brought a lot of things with her from her own world but the Ouroboros is different because she made it after she came here. By the time she was confined to the Middle, she had lost it. She summoned a huge snake that quite literally fell from the sky, trapped it, and crafted that mirror that would reveal a person’s true self. The mirror’s power is related to the snake itself and not the Weaver.” 

“That is dangerous.” Nesta mused.

“How so?” Feyre asked.

“People are fearful of their own minds and hearts. They never want to acknowledge every single part of them at the same time.” Nesta explained. Silence descended in the room as everyone contemplated the gravity of Nesta’s words.

“I do not recommend you looking into that mirror.” Nesta announced, looking at Feyre.

Before the Cursebreaker could protest, Nyra spoke up. “I second that.” 

“Not you too.” Feyre felt a little betrayed at the lack of support for her decision even when she knew that it stemmed from concern.

“What are you so upset about?” Nyra began reprimanding. “If you can’t handle what you see, you’ll go mad. The steward said it. Morrigan confirmed it.” 

“This is a necessary sacrifice.” Feyre spoke determinedly. 

“Then we’ll face the future without it.” Nesta argued. 

“You’re too emotional about this.” Cassian began. 

“Death is one thing. Madness for eternity is another.” Nesta rose. 

“I am more familiar with death, Nesta Archeron.” And Nesta did not know if he was referring to death or her. He took her hand and squeezed it. Nesta watched him, her expression impassive but his impact on her made her sit once again.

“You’re our High Lady. You’re supposed to sacrifice us.” Morrigan spoke from the doorway. 

“I’m your High Lady which is precisely why I will be putting myself forward first.” She looked at Rhysand, fierce and unwavering. “Our Court before anything.” 

And Rhys honestly did not know if he wanted to smile at his High Lady or kidnap his mate to safety. She was a mirror right now, reminding him of how he’d persevered for forty nine years in Amarantha’s bedroom. 

He let out a wry laugh. “And this is precisely why you’re my mate. My High Lady.” On bended knee, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. They gazed at each other, not as mates or lovers but as rulers of the Night Court. 

Nyra cleared her throat, dispelling the awkwardness that had settled among others. The two of them looked at her. “Did I interrupt your passionate prelude of desire? I do not apologise.” 

Cassian let out a laugh. And behind her, Nyra felt Azriel’s tremors of concealed laughter. A quiet sense of contentment settled in her soul. 

“The three of you have no duty to our Court. You shouldn’t involve yourself any further in this war.” Amren spoke for the first time since this surprise meeting began. 

“You seem to forget.” Nesta began, her voice deathly calm. “We’ve been involved from the very beginning.”

“The first act of war is not always bloodshed and weapons.” Cassian closed his eyes and rested his head on his hands with elbows propped on his thighs. “And the first act of this war was when Hybern kidnapped the sisters of the High Lady of the Night Court.” 

“No.” Everyone turned to Rhysand who was less than pleased to speak further. “The first act of this war was when that bitch threw her party all those years ago.” And Rhys continued. “This might sound so selfish and arrogant of me but-” 

“It’s not.” Nyra interrupted. “Acknowledging what happened is not selfish or arrogant of you. And if you choose to do that, then I choose to support you through it.” Nyra declared. Azriel watched his brother, his High Lord, and nodded at him, agreeing with Nyra. 

Rhysand found the people around him brace themselves to offer what Nyra had. He knew it hurt for them to even think about it and it hurt him too. He’d cried an embarrassing number of times in Feyre’s arms after sex, and sometimes even postponed sex because of it. 

And maybe Nyra would never know what her words meant to him but he would never forget. The High Lord of the Night Court only kneeled for his court and his mate. And kneeling before Nyra was beginning to have the same meaning.

Rhysand took a huge gulp from a glass of whiskey and cleared his throat. “So, we are better prepared for the Ouroboros.” He nodded at Nyra. “Better prepared for the wall.” He nodded at Nesta. “News from our spies.” He looked at the Spymaster. “The armies.” He turned to his General. “Hewn City and Eris.” He spared the Third a glance filled with regret. “Any assassinations of bloody hunts.” The Second raised a glass of blood. “And everything at your disposal if you choose to get the mirror.” He looked at the High Lady.

Rhysand let his body drop on the sofa behind him. “We’re so fucked.”

****

Of course, they were fucked. Despite a possible seer in their midst, none of the supremely powerful fae in the Night Court were prepared for Hybern’s infiltration while Feyre took her older sisters to the library for research. 

Their conversation was turning into the deeply personal and emotional kind when the three Archeron sisters felt a ripple in the air. They stopped speaking and analysed their surroundings. Faelights in the library flickered. Feyre grabbed both of her sisters and made a run for it downwards. 

Darkness bloomed and two males stepped out of it, one with dark hair and the other light haired. And then there was a breath of blue faebane dust. Nyra waved a hand and the wind followed her to divert the dust away but she hadn’t been quick enough. Some of it still managed to reach the females and they felt their power be locked inside their bodies. 

Nyra felt her power roar like a beast in a cage and she knew the moment the beast would free itself, she would do absolutely nothing to restrain it. The males looked at her twin with intent. 

“We’re the king’s Ravens. His far-flying eyes and talons. And we’ve come to take you back.” They addressed Nesta. “And you.” They turned to analyse Nyra. “Your power would be very useful to us.” 

Nyra encouraged the beast within her to slam against the prison so suddenly enclosed in. It was suffocating for her and she was beginning to breathe heavily. She heard Feyre say something and one of them say something back. She only comprehended that she and Nesta were to be taken away. And hell if she allowed someone else to make choices on her behalf when she still had her sound mind. 

Nyra only focused on unleashing her power. She knew she could control its damage as long as she identified who was to be harmed. She’d done it before when she had target practice with it. To harm only what she intended. The priestesses, the books, the furniture—all of it would remain safe. If only she could. . .

A feminine hand grabbed her and pulled her into a run again. Her skirts were a nuisance but Nyra hadn’t really considered the possibility of an abduction in the safest place in the Night Court. Her legs tired easily due to the general lack of exercise. Feyre was saying something. Something about running ahead towards the light. But Nyra had looked back and one of the Ravens appeared in front of her. 

“Run!” And despite Feyre’s pleas, Nesta did not run. Nesta’s gaze was singularly focused on the enemy who had grabbed Nyra’s wrist tightly. The beast within her roared. She could hear another roar—Nyra. 

Nyra did not like being startled or grabbed and she certainly did not like the way this disgusting male dug his nails into her wrist enough to hurt. She struggled against his hold and his grip tightened. 

“Nyra!” Nesta shouted but she couldn’t focus. Nyra could only see this male and his revolting smirk and his dirty gaze.

“You smell delicious.” He had thrown that nauseating remark that brought out the worst of her imaginations. A certain darkness enveloped the area at that moment. Nyra’s power thrummed. Just a bit more. But the queasy feeling of this male and his intentions made her genuinely afraid of something. His face neared her neck and he breathed in. 

“I want to know how good you’ll feel on my cock.” The male’s other hand grabbed her waist and she froze as her breasts were against his chest. Nyra’s mind was completely blank. Her muscles and everything that hinted at her status as alive was failing her. She closed her eyes tightly. “Look at me!” The male grabbed her chin harshly. 

“Nyra!” Her sister’s cries were one thing. And the looming sense of darkness was another. Between the two, she felt disgust and fear and helplessness. 

Focus. A voice sang behind her. Focus! The male’s nails finally made Nyra’s wrist bleed. And the suffocation was decreasing. Focus! The voice yelled at her. The prison around her power had begun shattering. She continued to slam against it, the bleeding on her wrist being the first crack. Lightning erupted from her wrist and struck the male entirely. His grip was no more and Nyra released herself to stand by Feyre’s side. 

Feyre seemed to be muttering something. And Nesta. . . her rage had taken over. And despite her power still being trapped, death ruled the air around them. Nesta placed herself in front of Nyra, her flames beginning to rise. 

Greetings, Conqueror of the Cauldron. The same voice greeted her again. There was something behind her. Something that raised the hairs on her skin. It was different from Azriel’s shadows. Azriel. She wanted his shadows. She needed his shadows. She needed him. Nyra had her arms around herself and she felt the male’s repulsive touch against her 

Nyra felt herself crack. Her wrist burned with the touch of the male who’d threatened to rape her. She needed Azriel. Azriel.

“You filthy bitch!” The other male roared at her as he supported his companion, the one on whom she had released her power. The skin of his face had peeled away to reveal burning flesh. Clothes were charred and torn and he was a phantom now. His voice made her flinch. Azriel. Lightning roared at her wrist from where she had bled but it was too weak. 

Azriel. 

A blinding light pushed them away. Apologies for the delay. The voice behind her solemnly spoke. She didn’t like this. She didn’t want to be surrounded by the unfamiliar darkness of whatever this creature was. She wanted Azriel and his shadows. 

Azriel. Her chest was heavy. Was she forgetting to breathe? Her vision was already blurry. Oh gods, she’d die like this. With the touch of this monstrous male imprinted on her body. Azriel. 

Shadows swarmed around her skirts, ascending faster than ever before. They wiped away her tears and a figure was walking towards her. She took a step forward. And another. And another and stumbled, falling into the arms of the male she trusted the most. 

****

A/N: @moni-cah @julsgrace thank you for your feedback. it means everything and much more!! hope you enjoy this chapter!! ✨✨💜

@feerique always and endlessly, i'm grateful. ✨✨💜

TAGLIST:

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****

[lilosdraws]

“You let me win didn’t you my lady laena?”

Lady Laena Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen after dragon racing. After winning, laena has a gift for Nyra a rose for her triumph & beauty perhaps something else 😊

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[marthawrites]

Beneath the Blooming Branches

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 800+

About: Spring has officially sprung. You and Rhaenyra enjoy a quiet afternoon strolling and picnicking in the gardens.

Includes: Soft wlw fluff 🩷

Note: Hello lovely reader! This fic was inspired by @hotd-bigbang! It is purely self-indulgent because our dragon queen deserves more soft moments. I wrote this with young Rhaenyra in mind, but you can use whichever Nyra your heart desires! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

Cross posted on ao3 too!

-

“Would this be considered improper if anyone were to see us, princess?” You asked Rhaenyra in an excited, hushed voice, keeping pace with her agile steps out of the Red Keep and into the gardens. On your arm was a small basket of treats. During your time as one of the princess’ maid servants you discovered she had quite the sweet tooth. Some of her favorites were: candied lemon slices, candied orange slices, and sponge cake drizzled with honey. You just so happened to have all of those in your basket–along with a couple extra treats, too.

A small smile quirked her lips as her fingers interlaced between your own, continuing to drag you along the path. “Perhaps you have me mistaken for a princess who cares what others might think?” With a playful arch of brow her smirk gave way to a wide dazzling grin. Her clean teeth and pale purple eyes sparkled in spring's midday sun.

For a moment you weren't sure what to say. When she smiled like that–truly smiled–your belly and heart did silly little flips that stopped you in your tacks. She was lovely in a maroon silk dress with delicate lace details accented by pearls. In the high noon, her golden jewelry gleamed on her ivory skin like pure strings of sunlight. Radiant. How someone like her developed such a fancy for you was one of the biggest mysteries of your heart! You felt dull next to her in your common servant attire. But, beneath the neckline of your dress, you felt the silver chain dotted with its tiny crystals against your chest that she had gifted you; pretty, beautiful.

Rhaenyra was good at keeping secrets. As were you.

Besides, a headstrong Targaryen dragging her favorite maid around hardly looked suspicious. Simply two girls out enjoying the change of spring weather!

“Oh, silly me. Apologies, princess, I must have been thinking of someone else,” you winked.

“Just as I thought.”

Giggling, while still walking hand in hand, Rhaenyra led you along the garden's path. Sun dappled through bright green flowering trees making her silver hair glow. Fragrances–lilac, rose, lilly–filled your senses. The gentle ever-present buzz of bees hazed your brain in the best of ways. Each time Rhaenyra smiled at you, or squeezed your hand affectionately, magic bloomed to sweeten the memory this would soon become.

Between gossip, jokes, and easy conversation, you barely noticed how much time passed. 

“Oh! Let's stay here,” she said wistfully, tipping her head back to stare up at a blooming cherry tree. One of the prettiest sights this time of season. 

Next thing you knew you were laying out a blanket to sit upon beneath the pink and white tree; petals falling lazily from its branches like gentle snowflakes. Worker bees were louder here than anywhere else. Calm. Relaxing. You sat with a contented sigh. “I've brought your favorites. Are you hungry?” you asked, eyes bright.

“Always so sweet for me,” Rhaenyra replied as she carefully knelt behind you so as to not wrinkle her dress. “First, though, I want to do something.”

Since she was behind you you couldn't even see her from your peripheral. You trusted her, though. Maybe that's why butterflies twirled in your belly. You felt her fingers gently loosen your hair until it lay loose and natural. Despite the gentleness–or perhaps in spite of it–a shudder ran all along your spine and you couldn't help but squirm. A little. “What are you doing?” You asked, turning your head over your shoulder curiously.

“Hold still,” she answered with mock seriousness. Then, she added, softer, “I'm going to braid your hair and put cherry blossoms in it.”

You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to not let out a tiny squeak of delight. “Ooh! Okay. Afterward, it's my turn to give you a surprise,” you proclaimed sweetly with a glance at your basket. A smile grew on your mouth and your cheeks warmed with joy. By the time Rhaenyra was done you could have dozed off against her in the warm sun.

“There,” she said, a gentle ‘aww’ escaping her. “I wish you could see it from the back! It's so lovely.”

“I'll be careful so that when we return to the Red Keep I can use two looking glasses to see it at the right angle," you promised. Grabbing for your basket, you turned around so you were both kneeling and facing each other. “Ready for mine?”

“Yes!”

You opened the basket and pulled out a clear glass jar of preserved, still plump, cherries. “From the last harvest,” you said, beaming. “How extra fitting that we can share them here.”

“How did you know I've been craving these?” She asked with bright eyes.

You shrugged, grinning. “Just a hunch.” The seal popped when you opened it, and the scent of syrupy sugar and perfectly ripened cherries wafted from the jar. You pulled one out by the stem and offered it to Rhaenyra. 

Taking it, she savored it as she ate it. Then, she did the same for you. 

Cherry after cherry, you shared the treat. By the end of the small jar both of your fingertips were stained red, as were your lips, and it made the kisses that followed all the sweeter; a saccharine secret beneath the heavily bloomed branches.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

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[spacerockfloater]

Hi.

It's so disheartening to see how a big chunk of TG turned on Aemond and Alicent and only support Aegon now. I deeply dislike most of the writing decisions this season, but people seem to forget that these decisions didn't harm only Aegon's character, but also Aemond, Alicent and Criston's, I would say even more than Aegon's. Nevertheless, after the last week episode I've seen a lot of TG hate directed towards Alicent and Aemond that reminded me of TB discourse and it's just sad.

I would love to hear your opinion on this. Thanks in advance.

Hello there friend! Thank you so much for sending me this ask!

Sigh. This is such a complicated issue. As a fellow TG supporter said recently in one of my posts, us turning against the Targtowers and hating them was exactly what Ryan Condal wanted.

They accidentally made them too sympathetic and righteous in the first season, so they had to ruin them to remind the public of whom they are supposed to hate. It’s sickening.

Alicent’s whole journey was about understanding that she needs to be more fierce and demanding to help her family survive. The first season ended with her being ruthless and ready to sacrifice everything for her children. But now she has regressed back to herself from the first half of S1, a scared little girl that doesn’t have the guts to do what must be done and loses all hope the moment the first tragedy comes her way.

Aegon’s whole journey was him overcoming his bullying tendencies and genuinely supporting his brother and his family. He may have initiated the pink dread incident but when his mother told him to cut the bullshit and stop acting like his nephews are his friends, he had no problem knocking Jace to the floor during practice. He stood tall when his brother was disabled and refused to name his mother as the one who spread the rumour(!) of Nyra’s children being bastards. He spoke his truth with his whole chest. Years later, the moment Aemond rose to answer to Lucerys’s mockery, he was right beside him, toasting with him and smashing Luc’s head on the table. And finally, when everyone turned on Aemond for taking his revenge, it was Aegon who demanded Aemond remain in his council, because that was his brother, his best sword and he wanted him there, even if their mother could not bare to look at him. Aegon rose to the occasion and was ready to become a better person, he seemed to genuinely want to serve his subjects. He loved nothing more in the world than his son and his death tore him apart. But suddenly, next episode he has forgotten all about it and is back at bullying Aemond again? That’s just none-sense. All that character development for nothing.

I did feel like Aemond burning his brother alive went from 0 to 100 real quick. He already got his lick back when he made a fool of Aegon in front of his own council. Aemond is a calculating person. He would know that talking Aegon out of the way would cause more harm than good.

Their relationship has been destroyed. Every TG member hates the others. Ultimately, I think we just have to accept this is bad writing and let go of the show because yikes.

However, if we want to discuss show canon, we should keep the characters accountable for their actions and unfortunately, I am displeased with all of them except from Criston. I’ll keep supporting Aegon, Aemond and Alicent but I must also criticise them for the things that they do if I want to be fair.

That being said, I can see why Alicent is horrified by Aemond’s actions. I can see why people think Aemond went too damn far. At the same time, I can see that Aemond would never just sit down and accept being abused. Add to that his not so secret desire to be king, and you can see why he wouldn’t think twice about turning his brother to ashes.

All in all, I think that every opinion is justified and that we must wait for the new episode to air (Aemond’s interactions with Aegon and Alicent are essential) for some additional insight on the incident of Rook’s Rest.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Small Bump

Summary: Just when things were going great for you and your loves, what seems like another amazing life-changing moment takes place only for it to all fall apart right from under you.

Word count: 4.5k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

All three of you laid in bed panting softly as you each worked your way down in a sweet afterglow of lovemaking, feeling the gentle touch across your skin from Rhaenyra as Daemon watched on which just made you look over at him with a raised brow as he seemed to be taking in something about you which caused you to smile but lightly tilted your head "Is there something wrong darling?". A smile crept onto his face as he wrapped his arms around you. He turned his head to kiss your cheek. "Nothing at all, my love. Just appreciating the sight." Daemon's hand trailed down your body, coming close to the curve of your hip enjoying how your different skin tone glowed before sliding down toward your inner thigh. "Just appreciating every sight I get of you," he whispered, his voice husky. He smirked while lightly brushing the hair from your face, his fingers trailing slowly down the soft skin of your arm. "I'm happy. I'm happier than I've been in a very, very long time. And I'm not just referring to the sex we've just had. I've never had this much fun, this much comfort with someone in my life. You make me feel more human than I have in decades. That is why I've been looking at you for a while." He continued his tender touch moving across your body before stopping at your stomach and looking down before glancing up at you as he whispered, "I believe you should be expecting change love and have been for some time now."

Rhaenyra looks at Daemon for a moment and then at your stomach with curiosity, and then a smile spreads itself on her features as soon as it is clear to her what he meant. She hugged you tightly, burying her head in your neck and her eyes welled up with tears. "Oh, love…" Rhaenyra whispered and kissed you passionately. "I am so happy." She sniffed happy that there would be another sweet little babe joining the family, wiping away a tear and smiling. She placed her hand on your soft belly as you only shook your head with a chuckle that Daemon was assuming you were pregnant. "I think I'd know if I was expecting." As you and Daemon continued to kiss, Daemon brushed back your hair. A hand lightly caressed your stomach and he let out a soft, satisfied moan into the kiss. "Just a feeling I had we all know I'm never wrong," he whispered against your mouth and then leaned his head back with his eyes closed. "Now that we have the throne, we should start our family. We cannot allow the Targaryen line to grow weak. We must continue our royal legacy."

You nodded in agreement and smiled as you nuzzled yourself a little closer until you were resting against his chest. "Yes, my love but I'm sure I'm not carrying But if it'll give you and Nyra some peace of mind I'll go see a maester tomorrow" The thought of you carrying a child of Daemon's made you feel butterflies in your stomach. "We can't let the Targaryen bloodline die out." You pressed your soft lips to Daemon's neck and smiled before leaning back against Rhaenyra who simply cuddled closer seeming happy if you were with a child. He leaned forward to bite your ear playfully. "And, what if I just wanted another child? Do I not have the right to demand children from you?" He leaned his head to the side, his words laced with a playful tone. A brow rose slightly at your words, his eyes closing as he smirked. "I am glad to see you agree with that, my love." Daemon leaned forward to kiss you again, one hand still trailing down your skin until it fell around pulling you closer. You could feel his chest rise with each breath he took, and in truth Daemon found the sensation to be quite comforting. "We shall see," he said with a smile of his own. "But for now, let's just enjoy this moment, shall we?" he whispered, his voice hushed. Rhaenyra leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together, and smiled. She placed a gentle hand on your stomach. "I hope you are, my love," she whispered.

The next day you had gotten ready with both Daemon and Rhaenyra enjoying the soft touches and playful teasing between all three of you, going about your day even getting used to your new duties since you and Daemon had more important roles now within the realm even if you weren't used to it. Finally getting some free time you made your way to the maesters and explained you wanted to be looked over for which had caused you to lay back waiting until it was over just to hear that Daemon was right that you were, in fact, pregnant and about nearly two months alone as you sat there in shock before walking through the halls seeing Rhaenyra as you gently pulled her away still taking in the news "He was right…Last night when Daemon said I should be expecting change and that I was pregnant…he was right I am." She stood just nearly as shocked as you "You mean… You're pregnant?" She looked at you in surprise. Even with your words, she couldn't believe this news. She walked closer to you and smiled down, then embraced you tightly. "This is wonderful, my love." She kissed your lips softly and smiled again. "We'll have a new life soon, my sweet. Our own son or daughter. It is a blessing." Rhaenyra caressed your cheek and smiled.

She looked at you with a small frown on her face. "Daemon had to go to Dragonstone. He has business to attend to. But he will come back soon." She kissed your forehead and smiled. "Don't worry, my love. We have our time together now." As she looked at you with a worried face, her expression suddenly changed as she gave you a soft hug. "Are you happy? You have given us a beautiful surprise." She smiled "But I am sure he'll be happy to know that." She caressed your cheek lovingly, looking right into your eyes. Your pregnancy was something to celebrate. You sighed but nodded in understanding before smiling softly as you looked up at her sad that you couldn't tell Daemon the news yet but figured that would make it all the more special when you finally could. Kissing Rhaenyra softly on the lips again before shrugging your shoulders "I guess we'll just have to wait then." Going about your day beside the blonde woman until it was late at night and you both got ready for bed together. After dinner, you both head to your bedroom. You were both in your nightgowns. Rhaenyra was still thinking about the good news. She walked closer to you and smiled. "What would you name our son?" She said in a dreamy voice. "I want a name that would befit House Targaryen, but still… beautiful and unique." She leaned closer to you, her lips on your neck, nuzzling it. "What do you think of the name 'Baelor?' I hope Daemon would agree to it as well." She smiled down at you with a hint of worry on her face.

You chuckled as you looked up at her with a smile on your face. "Baelor… that would be a good name for our son. And Daemon would surely love it." You leaned up and placed a gentle touch on your wife's lips. "You know I adore you," you whispered, as you brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "Let us get ready for sleep. Tomorrow, we shall have the whole night." You said with a wink. "What name shall we give our daughter?" You whispered, with the thought on your mind. "Let's see… I think "Alysanne" would be a nice name if we had a daughter." She smiled down at you and looked at your belly, thinking about the baby is growing bigger inside. "My sweet, I think Daemon would be overjoyed and excited to know that we're expecting a child. Our child." She pressed a kiss on your forehead. "Now, let's go to bed. I can't wait to see Daemon and tell him that we will have a child." She chuckled and leaned to kiss you again. "Good night, my love." "We will tell him together." You said with a smile. You placed your lips gently on the nape of her neck and gave it a kiss. "Goodnight, my sweet." You whispered. You rolled onto your side and placed an arm around Rhaenyra, nuzzling up against her chest. As your eyes grew dim, your lips parted. "I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too." She whispered as she gave you one last kiss before cuddling into you. "I can't wait to see Daemon when he gets back, he will be delighted to know the good news." She snuggled into you, and her head rested comfortably on your chest as you both slowly drifted asleep for the night. At some point during the night, you slowly woke up to discomfort and blinked while looking around as you tried turning around and onto your other side only to groan at more pain becoming prominent which led you to sit up as you grabbed at your stomach whining and closing your eyes tightly trying to figure out what was happening as more broken whimpers left past your lips "Please no." After few moments, Rhaenyra finally opened her eyes and rubbed her eyes, trying to get the sleepiness away. Her eyes widen with a look of concern and worry when she heard you, and her eyes scanned the room, trying to see what's wrong. "What is it, my love?" Rhaenyra looked at you and her features softened. "Are you okay? What happened?" She sat up.

You took deep breaths as tears welled up in your eyes before looking over at Rhaenyra, shaking your head as you took hold of her hand "Something hurts Nyra." Grabbing at your stomach more as you bit down on your lower lip then let her start to help you up from the bed only to look up at her when you heard the gasp fall past her lips "What? What's wrong?" You looked down only to let your jaw drop as more tears welled up in your eyes upon seeing the dark red substance before letting your shaky hands grab at your nightgown "What's happening?" You spoke knowing you'd have to go see the maesters right away. Rhaenyra's eyes widened in shock as she gently helped you up, her face turned from worry to horror. She looked at the bed sheet and immediately knew something terrible had happened. In a quick and worried tone, she took your hand and led you out of the room. "Oh, gods," She said worriedly and quickened the pace, walking with you to see the maester. When you both arrived, she knocked on the door and it quickly opened. "A maester, please, at once." She yelled needing them to act in a rushed hurry.

Your eyes still wet with tears and your head hurts with each movement. The maester answered the order that came from the servant who was sent to get him and opened the door. "What happened?" The maester asked, a worried look in his eyes. You looked down at her hands as she felt a sudden rush of weakness with another whine leaving her throat. "The babe?" The maester exclaimed, rushing towards you and Rhaenyra. "My lady, how are you feeling? What happened?" Rhaenyra looked down, still in shock, then looked up at the maester. Her eyes were filled with tears as she held you in her arms protectively. "Please… Save her. She's bleeding inside. There's something wrong with our baby." Her voice was filled with fear, worry, and sadness. "It's… It's been so hard for us. I… I have never felt happier in my life as I did when I knew I was carrying… our baby. And… and now… This…" Rhaenyra looked at you as if remembering when this happened to her, her face etched with tears and sadness as she took your arm and supported your weight as you stumbled and nearly fell down. "I lost our baby." You sobbed, your eyes filled with tears. "I lost our child." "Is she?…" Rhaenyra whispered to the maester and her voice broke on a whimper she couldn't hide the tears as her eyes widened in pain. Her expression became even sad, as she looked at you with worry. "Please, do something."

Looking at Rhaenyra with sorrow, not just for the baby but for her and Dameon. They had been nothing but kind and loving, how cruel must the gods be to rob all three of this baby? Your tears welled up and fell onto your cheeks more than before. "Rhaenyra, my love, I am so sorry," you muttered, as you embraced Rhaeneyra and pressed your head against pillows as you laid down letting the maester look everything over. "I am so sorry." You tried to bury your grief and replaced that emotion with determination even as you kept crying. "We will have another baby." You vowed.

Rhaenyra sniffed and wiped away a tear, still with a look of heartbreak on her face as she looked at you, her eyes slowly welled up with tears again. "You're right. We will." She placed her hand on your cheek. The maester examined you once again, before telling you that you must recuperate and rest. Laying back numbly after learning what happened this not being a first but did nothing to lessen the pain or break in your heart was feeling. You stared up at the ceiling wondering how this came to be but sighed softly as tears welled up in your eyes once more before letting out a broken whisper toward Rhaenyra "Don't tell Daemon…please I can't handle having failed you both or that he's lost another babe." Rhaenyra gently pushed your head back onto the pillow, not liking that you wanted to keep this from Daemon, but knew that she couldn't force you. She brushed some hair away from your face and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. "And, you never failed us, my love… We all failed when we lost our little angel." She said as tears ran down her cheeks. "You know we should…" Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. She leaned forward to kiss you then gently wiped away your tears."No… I will not tell Daemon. I won't make him suffer with this news." She smiled comfortingly. "Let us just get you in bed for now."

They gave a mixture of herbs to ensure your health and to help you sleep. "Don't worry, my love. We shall soon try again." She smiled gently down then sat beside you and took your hand. She watched how after a few minutes your eyes slowly fell shut before closing her eyes as she took a deep breath collecting herself before making it known to the maester and any servants in the room that this news was not to leave the room and make its way around the realm for all to know. The herbs had worked, as you felt yourself drift off to sleep. It had been a difficult evening, and the mixture of grief, sorrow, and anger had taken its toll. You held Rhaenyra's hand as you drifted off and whispered into your ear. There would be more children to come and the gods would not deny a family as blessed as this love again. Even as the next few days passed by and Daemon was coming back you hadn't moved much from your spot on the bed even making it clear not to say anything to him about what happened as you didn't want to upset him.

As the days passed, Rhaenyra was always by your side, holding your hand as she looked upon you with worry. Daemon's return got nearer. She was nervous and anxious for a chance to tell Daemon about what happened. But she worried that her feelings would make him sad, or worse, angry. And she would hate to see him suffering. Finally, it was the day Daemon returned. Rhaenyra looked at you and smiled while she still gripped your hand tightly. "You should get ready." She said, with a worried look on her face when she looked towards the door. Daemon stood in the yard noticing something was wrong especially due to everyone giving him looks as he passed by but shrugged it off as he was happy to be back to you and Rhaenyra. As he entered the keep, the first thing he saw was Rhaenyra standing with you. Rhaenyra looked worried, which she always did when something was wrong, but this seemed worse. "What is it? Has something happened?" He asked. He approached more into the room looking at both of you only for neither of you to say anything about what happened. Rhaenyra gulped, looking at Daemon. She didn't want to be the one to tell him especially since you had asked her not to say anything. She hoped he would forget about it and everything would return just as normal. But She knew he wouldn't forget. And, she knew there was no chance for this not to affect the family. She took a deep breath and shook her head trying to smile like nothing was wrong. "No darling. There's nothing new, dear." She said gravely, as she squeezed your hand and squeezed it tightly, giving you comfort. Daemon looked at Rhaenyra in confusion and concern as you gave a small smile but started to leave as servants had to help since she was still weak.

She's hiding something, or was trying to hide it, he thought. Rhaenyra always did that when she did not want to tell you or him something. He turned to face Rhaenyra directly after watching you leave the room with help. She has to tell me now was his first thought "Whatever it is that happened, Rhaenyra, you know you can talk to me about it. You can trust me." He smiled at her. He hoped that would be enough to make her tell him what was wrong. Daemon had always been able to read through Rhaenyra's lies and excuses. Even with this sensitive issue, she couldn't help to hide behind a white lie. "I know." She sighed and looked down, trying to gather up the courage to confess the truth to Daemon. She took a deep breath and looked up. "Y/N…" She gulped and tried to look for the right words. "Just isn't feeling well." She winced as it all became real again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, not wanting Daemon to see her tearing up. Rhaenyra sighed and looked at Daemon. "I'm not sure whether this is my place to tell you, Daemon." Rhaenyra didn't really want to tell Daemon what happened since she didn't want to break his heart. Especially since they just got reunited from Daemon's long trip. "I'll leave it to Y/N to talk to you if that's okay with you?" She hoped Daemon would believe her lie, if not, she would have to tell him. She smiled at Daemon gently.

He raised an eyebrow when Rhaenyra tried to tell him that you simply 'weren't feeling well', he doubted that was the case. But he had to trust Rhaenyra for now, even if he sensed something was wrong. His wives knew when he would not be okay with something and always told him the truth, even if he had to wait a while. He looked at her and smiled. "Aha….Okay, if you insist. I will have a talk with Y/N then." He kissed Rhaenyra's forehead and turned to leave the room. The next few days of trying to ask and understand what happened during his time away, only to keep getting shut out hearing you weren't ready to speak on it yet which caused him to grow annoyed but nod along giving in each time. However, once a full week passed Daemon felt as if he couldn't wait any longer and entered the room quietly as he gently sat down next to you before placing his hand on your shoulder giving you a tender smile before sighing heavily as he softly asked "Something's happened and nobody is telling me anything….Please tell me there is no use in sparing the details because even just seeing how heartbroken over what's happened in you and Nyra I need to know so just please, tell me."

You let Daemon sit beside you. You didn't look at him but you knew he was there. You tried to muster the courage to tell him but felt like you still couldn't do it. The shame felt was too strong and powerful and it took a lot out of you to try to keep from crying. But as you saw how hurt and worried Daemon was, you knew you couldn't delay it any longer. Sighing as you turned to look at Daemon and swallowing hard as you tried to tell him what happened. "… I… I lost the baby." That was all that could be said before you cried. His whole body froze. "What?" He asked, his mind racing with questions to confirm that he'd heard it right, but as soon he saw the tears on your cheeks he knew what you had said. Oh Gods, he thought. No. He felt as though he might faint. How could this have happened? How could this have happened while I was away? Why didn't Rhaenyra say something? He pulled you against himself and held you tightly, not knowing what to say, not even knowing how to feel. He just felt lost. Waiting patiently for you to tell him what exactly had happened in detail if you could. It was obviously something sad, and by the time you finally spoke, you were already crying. After a moment of just sitting there with you, he kissed her forehead gently. "My love, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

You couldn't look at him, as the shame and guilt overwhelmed you. You couldn't bear it if your words hurt Daemon. You felt it was all your fault. You kept staring at the floor, tears in your eyes, breathing steadily so it wouldn't seem that you were crying so hard. Knowing Daemon was also hurting, and you didn't want to be the reason why he would feel grief and pain. "I… I lost the baby… I am so sorry, it's all my fault." You whispered quietly, your voice cracking on the last sentence, sniffing and crying your eyes out, but were comforted by Daemon's strong embrace. You then looked down at your lap, trying to gather yourself, only to bury your head onto Daemon's chest, as you sniffled. "It was in the middle of the night." Finally managing to muster the words. "I woke up and felt that something had happened, There was so much pain. By the time we got to the maester, they told us that my baby had passed away." He listened carefully to everything you were telling him and felt his heart crack every time you got close to tears again. I don't know if I can bear this, I thought. "Y/N, sweetheart, it is not your fault. You can't control things like that." He squeezed you more tightly against him. "I know it is hard to think right now, what you've said is true. But don't blame yourself for this." He tried his best to comfort you as you buried your head against his chest. At that moment, he felt your pain the most and wondered if Laena and Rhaenyra felt just like this when it happened to them.

At Daemon's comforting words, you looked up at him with a weak smile. "Thank you… It is hard to not feel any shame. It was our baby." You sniffled as you continued to lean onto Daemon as he held you close. You looked up at Daemon and wiped away your tears with your sleeves. You hugged Daemon tightly, your smaller frame pressed against his chest. "I'm sorry…" You whispered. "I don't know why.." You sighed heavily. "How will you be able to look at me the same way again?" You suddenly spoke with your voice filled with worry. "Will you not love me anymore..?" Your eyes looked into Daemon's eyes, awaiting in fear of his answer and reaction. He held you tightly, his eyes looking into yours and making sure you understood him perfectly. "And why should I not look at you the same way again? You're still my wife, who I love with all my heart and soul and more. Nothing about you has changed. You're still the same person." He kissed your lips softly, to show his affection. "No, nothing has changed. I will love you the same way." He said to you confidently, hoping to reassure you and make you feel better. He looked into your eyes as he tried to smile, trying his best to comfort you and make you feel loved. He wanted you to know that no matter what happened, you would get through it together. "You are still the same, and the most beautiful person I know," he whispered. "I will love you the same, no matter what, and I'm so sorry for not being here for you when it happened." He caressed your face and slowly leaned in to kiss your lips softly. He felt your body tense up, but it was the best way he could assure you what he was saying was true.

Daemon's kisses made you feel a bit more loved and reassured not just by Rhaenyra, and for that, you were ever thankful. You nodded your head with each word he spoke, wanting him to know that you were listening. You even smiled a tad bit, even though your tears still came streaming down. It was clear you were still very heartbroken, but Daemon's presence made you feel at least a little bit better. As Daemon leaned in to kiss you gingerly again, you hugged him tightly, not even aware if you tightened your hug on him. You were just too happy to see him. After the shared sweet kisses, you looked at Daemon, your tear-filled face showing your love. Your eyes then met his and gave him a faint smile. "Thank you, my love." You looked down at your lap. "And what if I tried again?" You looked back up quickly at Daemon. "Will it… Will it be fine if I tried again to have our children?". He slowly pulled back from the kiss and held you in his arms while sitting next to you. You looked so sad, he couldn't imagine what you were going through. His mind raced with thoughts, Why would the gods torment you so? Your words did catch him off guard but he was glad you said them. "I would love us to try again," he said softly. He caressed your face once more delicately. "We will try again, as many times as you would like, dear," he said while he held your chin. "And we will succeed in having children one day."

[noh07]

list of mixed name ideas (october 29, 2024)

i sorted them into three categories: androgynous, feminine and masculine.

in this list, there's any type of names (mostly for english-speaking people though): typical first names, noun names, mythology names, etc.

if you have more ideas of names for trans folks, writers, etc, just lemme know! (Can also be not-so-cool names for the writers, we need them for the asshole side characters :3)

i will update the list every time I have a lot of new name suggestions. this is not the newest version, but you can find it under the tag #updated name list on my profile.

(alphabetical list with 553 mixed names under the cut)

--- androgynous ---

Addie/Eddie

Aki

Alex

Alexis

Alli/Allie/Ally

Ares

Ari

Artemis

Aster

Azure

Bennie/Benny

Beverly

Billie

Blair

Charlie

Chrissy

Crimson

Edie

Eli

Ellori/Ellory

Emerson

Emi/Emmie/Emmy

Evie

Finn

Forest/Forrest

Frances/Francis

Gray/Grey

Hayden

Hunter

Jackie/Jacky

Jamie

Jess

Jessie

Jupiter

Lark

Lenny

Lori/Lorie/Lory

Lou

Louie

Mag

Maggot

Mars

Max

Mercury

Mika

Miko

Mizu

Neptune

Noah

Paris

Ollie

Quinn

Rafa

Reg

Robin

Ronni/Ronnie/Ronny

Saturn

Shilo/Shiloh

Skye

Val

Venus

Vin

Vinny/Vinnie

Wilson

--- feminine ---

Abby

Abigail

Adelaide

Adeline

Aileen/Eileen

Aimee/Amy

Alana

Alena

Alessia

Alexa

Alexia

Alexandra

Alice

Alissa

Alli/Allie/Ally

Alura

Amalia

Amber

Amelia

Amelie

Amity

Angie

Anna

Ann/Anne

Annie

Anastasia

Andrea/Andreea

Antheia

Arabella

Astra

Atlanta

Audrey

Aurora

Azura

Bailey

Becky

Bella

Belle

Bettie/Betty

Beverly

Billie

Brenda

Brie

Candace/Candice

Carla/Karla

Carolina

Caroline

Catherine

Celina/Selena/Selina

Celine/Selene

Charlotte

Christina/Kristina

Christine/Kristine

Claire

Clara/Klara

Chloe/Cloe

Cora/Corah

Daniela/Daniella

Danielle

Dalia/Daliah

Debbie

Debora/Deborah

Delilah

Diana

Dianne

Dora/Dorah

Eburia

Eda

Elena

Eleanor/Elenor

Elisa/Eliza

Elizabeth

Ella

Ember

Emerson

Emery

Emi/Emmie/Emmy

Emilia

Emilie/Emily

Emma

Euphemia

Euphoria

Esme

Esmeralda

Eva

Evie

Evelyn

Felicia

Fenya

Finya

Fia

Fiona

Francisca/Franziska

Freya

Gaia

Georgia

Gina

Ginny/Jeanie

Hanna/Hannah

Harmony

Heather

Hecate

Hera

Hestia

Hope

Iana

Irena

Irene

Iris

Isa

Isabel/Isabelle

Isabela/Isabella

Ivonne/Yvonne

Ivory

Ivy

Izzy

Janice

Jasmin/Jasmine

Jenna

Jenny

Jolene

Julia

Julianne

Julie

Juliet/Juliette

Katarina/Katharina

Kathy/Katy

Lana

Lara/Larah

Laura

Lauren

Laurel

Lena

Leia/Leya

Levina

Levinia

Lia

Liara

Lili/Lilli/Lilly/Lily

Lilian/Lilien

Lilith

Lisa

Livia

Liz

Lizzie/Lizzy

Loanne

Lola

Lorelei

Lori/Lorie/Lory

Louisa/Luisa

Louise/Luise

Luce/Luz

Lucy

Luna

Maggie/Meggie

Meg

Madeline

Maira/Myra

Margaret

Marge

Marla

Marlene

Maria/Mariah

Marie/Mary

Melanie

Melissa

Mellie/Melly

Mia

Michelle

Milly

Mina

Minerva

Minnie

Miriam

Mona

Naira/Nyra

Natalia

Natalie

Natasha

Nellie/Nelly

Nessie

Nina

Nora/Norah

Nori

Oliv/Olive

Olivia

Ollie

Paris

Pascale

Patricia

Paula

Peggy

Penelope/Pinelopy

Penny

Petunia

Philippa

Pia

Polly

Poppy

Ramona

Rebecka

Regina

Robin

Rose

Roxanne

Sara/Sarah

Sofia/Sophia

Sofie/Sophie

Stella

Stephanie/Stephany

Tara/Tarah

Tatiana/Tatyana

Tess

Tessa

Tia

Tiana

Tina

Valerie/Valery

Vanessa

Venus

Veronica

Victoria

Vivian

Viviana

Willow

Yana

Yasmin/Yasmine

Zoe/Zoé/Zoey

--- masculine ---

Aion

Alex

Alexander

Amon

Anthony

Anton

Arcturus

Ares

Ben

Benjamin

Bennie/Benny

Benson

Bill

Billie/Billy

Bob

Bobby

Brendan/Brendon

Brian

Bruno

Calvin

Carl/Karl

Chad

Chase

Chris

Chrissy

Christopher

Conan

Damian

Dan

Daniel

Dave

David

Davon/Devon

Dionysos

Don

Donald

Dorian

Dylan

Elia/Elijah

Elio

Eliot/Elliot/Elliott

Emerson

Emilio

Erion

Evan

Felix

Fred

Freddie/Freddy

George

Gian/Jan

Hannibal

Harald/Harold/Herald/Herold

Ian

Icarus

Jack

Jackie/Jacky

James

Jamie

Jimmy

John

Johnny

Jona/Jonah

Jonas

Jones

Julian/Julien

Julius

Jupiter

Justin

Kevin

Larry

Laurence/Lawrence

Lenny

Leo

Linus

Lori/Lorie/Lory

Louis/Luis

Louie

Lucc/Luke

Lucas/Lukas

Luigi

Marc

Marco

Mario

Mars

Max

Mercury

Michael

Mickey

Mike

Milo

Nathan

Neptune

Nick

Nico/Niko/Nikko

Noah

Oliver

Ollie

Orion

Paris

Pascal

Patrick

Paul

Pete

Peter

Philip/Philipp/Phillip

Raymond

Reg

Reginald

Regulus

Remus

Rob

Robbie/Robby

Robin

Ron

Ronald

Ronni/Ronnie/Ronny

Saturn

Sean/Shawn/Shaun

Sebastian

Sirius

Steve

Steven

Theodore

Tim

Toby

Tom

Tommy

Tony

Valentine

Victor

Wilson

Yan

Zach/Zack

Zeus

If you want me to add meanings, origins, etc., just tell me! ^^

[chicken-wayng]

Unpopular opinion: young!Rhaenicent was just as toxic as old!Rhaenicent, people need to remove their rose tinted glasses.

I love her but Nyra is a Targ supremacist to the bone who most certainly did not think it’s ok for a non-Valyrian to marry into the family. I think she preferred it when Alicent was below her in the pecking order rather than being forced to respect her as an equal.

This toxicity has definitely trickled to their current situation post 2x08. Alicent has stripped herself of her titles and power, she is simply the nobody daughter of a nobody second son who is at the mercy of the powerful Queen Rhaenyra I Targaryen.

Just how Nyra wants it 👍🏽

Embrace the toxicity, reject the niceties, appreciate Rhaenyra’s bad bitch energy for what it is ✨

THISSS!!! Also this is my opinion so we'll share it if it's unpopular. Like let it be toxic yuri! I get how young Rhaenicent is "less" toxic for some people but truly that is the base of the toxicity. It's where the rot started.

Also I love how they're showing us Nyra's Targ supremacy/racism, her bastardphobia and her all over Mean Girl energy. She's sooo Regina George I love her smmmm

If someone is looking for a non toxic ship on HOTD/ GoT they're gonna have to look hard; I find the display and equally toxic m/f, m/m and w/w ship very feminist and I'm enjoying that aspect very much.

[azrielwingspan]

DISTRACTIONS (AZRIEL X OC)- PART 1

Distractions is a collection of short stories whose main characters are Azriel and Nyra (OC).

It's established that there is some heavy tension between them (everyone suspects lol) and I decided to put into words a few visualizations I've had of the both of them just pining for each other, playing hard to get, flirting, a bit of angst, some fluff and overall just being HELLA CUTE OKAY.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is PART 1 !!!

Summary :

The IC , Nyra and a couple of mutual friends decide to stay in for a night and celebrate the success of one of their more important missions. A bit of alcohol and a cozy setting can do wonders.

Warnings: Nothing major. Lots of drinking, fluff if you squint your eyes.

"Okay, bring out the expensive wine. I'm sick of whatever crap this is." Cassian said making a disgusted face at the glass of wine in his hand. Nesta, curled up by his side on the love seat in front of the fireplace , smirked at him over the rim of her peppermint teacup.

"That would've been possible.." drawled Rhys from the wingback chair adjacent to the fireplace "if you hadn't made it your life goal to rid my wine cellar of it's most expensive occupants."

A few chuckles rose around the room and Cassian scowled , halfheartedly taking a sip from the crap wine in his hand.

Despite the lack of good wine, everyone was in good spirits that day. The parlor in Rhysand's and Feyre's Riverhouse was occupied by their closest group of friends who were finally able to let loose after weeks of intense work. The fireplace cast a cozy glow over the dark wood furniture with emerald green accents and provided a warm embrace against the frigid rain lashing against the windows.

The smell of alcohol , rain and smoky cedar mixed in with the quiet chattering of the occupants , sometimes interrupted by a boisterous laugh set everyone's senses at ease and lulled them into comfort.

"I heard the party started without me."

Heads whipped towards the doorway of the parlor where Nyra stood grinning with her hands behind her back. Dressed in a gold satin dress with dark hair in a braid, her green eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Well..." said Nicolai, her best friend since childhood, "you are two hours late." He glanced at the clock placed on the mantel above the fireplace.

"I am aware. Which is whyyyy..." Nyra brought her hands forward showing everyone the two bottles of tequila she'd managed to buy before showing up.

Cheers erupted through the room, Cassian nearly jumping out his seat. Mor tackled her in a hug saying "Thank the Cauldron. I was ready to fall asleep."

She was pulled into the room , bottles taken out of her hand and replaced with shot glasses. A grin was etched onto her face as everyone assembled near the fire place to take their first shots together.

Nyra was trying very hard. She really was. She was putting every ounce of her willpower towards not looking at the male at the periphery of her vision. Being in the same room as him was enough to make her heart stutter and set off a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. Her body was attuned to his every movement and he was the first thing her mind directed her to in any room.

She would've gone straight to him and spent the entire evening by his side but this thing between them was becoming too evident. She would be asked questions that she didn't have an answer to. She wasn't ready to face that. Not yet. Perhaps she was a coward but she didn't want to face that either. That's how she had survived for so long and she wasn't keen on facing those parts of her anytime soon. There were more important things to focus on.

"To us. The dreamers and conquerors." Rhys raised his shot glass in the air and everyone followed him. Once the shots were downed, a few coughs erupting as the burn of the alcohol kicked in, Nyra made her way through the crowd talking to everyone she knew.

She would speak to him last. She could spend the most time with him. She almost rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and tried to focus on her companions words. She'd sneaked a peek at him because she couldn't help herself and her stomach lurched at how devastatingly handsome he looked. Wearing a simple black shirt unbuttoned at the top , the firelight falling across half his face making the deep tan of his skin glow against the stark contrast of his shadows, hazel eyes that were glazed from the alcohol he had consumed, he looked ravishing good. He stood near the chest of drawers, an elbow placed on the surface of the chest lazily while the other hand held his glass of...whisky. She would know for sure if she kissed him.

She had immediately turned away , not trusting herself to stop staring if she started and tried to give her undivided attention to her companion. She might have zoned out on his face multiple times because he seemed to take the hint and end the conversation before she made a bigger fool of herself.

"NYRA!" Feyre called from the other side of the room, where she was perched on the chair that Rhys occupied. She made her way to Feyre all the while being aware of the set of hazel eyes that trailed her.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't you dare.

Successfully making it without tripping on her dress or making lovesick eyes at a certain male, she listened to Feyre update her on what had happened in her absence. A couple more shots and drinks were consumed during their gossip session with Mor. Nyra had reached a point where she let out a laugh at every single thing that came out of Feyre's mouth. That tequila had done its job too well. She'd forgotten how many shots she had until that point but judging by the lightness in her head and the slight spin around her , she had enough.

Realizing it was time to sit down before she split her head on the floor, she turned around looking for an empty seat. She found one at the other end of the parlor but it didn't look as enticing as the chaise lounge chair where Azriel was seated speaking to another male. There's just enough space for her to squeeze in. She'd reached a point where her intrusive thoughts couldn't be ignored anymore.

Letting her alcohol addled mind take over, she excused herself from the fizzing out gossip session and made her way over to Azriel. His eyes shot to her the moment she moved, making her think that he'd been keeping note of where she was the entire night. Her heart pounded harder with that thought and she forced herself to breathe normally. Hazel eyes finally clashed with hers and she couldn't help that child like joy that lit up her face. She wasn't this bad during her teenage years either ugh. What had this male done to her?

A small smirk curled his lips while his eyes shone with amusement. The bastard had known. He'd known that she was trying to avoid speaking with him till now. He had known and he had waited for her to come to him because Azriel knew that she couldn't fucking stay away.

She tried not to fidget under the intense gaze that he had fixated on her as she walked towards him. The male he was speaking to rattled on and Azriel interrupted him muttering in a low tone all the while not taking his eyes off of her. Nyra didn't know if it was the alcohol causing the heat to flush her face or if it was something else. Someone else. The male he was talking to found elsewhere to be.

"Hi." she whispered looking down at him and trying to control the whirlwind in her mind. "Hi." he whispered back looking up at her , his eyes holding promises of things she didn't let herself wonder about. He shifted on the seat hinting at her to sit down.

Maneuvering herself around a table, she fit herself into the space next to him trying not to sigh in content at the immediate cocoon of warmth that enveloped her. His scent invaded her senses and seemed to be more potent than the alcohol she had. The entire room seemed to vanish when it was just the both of them and she grateful that they were seated in a dark corner of the room.

"I think you're going a little cross eyed there." Azriel said throwing an arm behind her on the couch. She wanted to lean into him until there was no space left in between. "I think I see two of you." Double the fun.

He let out a raspy laugh that set shivers running down her back. They were so close but not close enough. His shadows faded into the darkness behind leaving the both of them blanketed in glimmers of firelight running across their skin.

"And here I thought avoiding one of me was a hard task for you." he said , eyes shimmering gold in the firelight.

"Not that hard truly. I just have to keep away from dark corners."

"Corners like this?"

"Exactly like this."

"And yet here you are."

"You seemed desperate to talk to me. So I decided to put you out of your misery."

"Did I now?"

"Oh yes you did."

"Well thankyou for putting me out of my misery, Nyra." He had a wonderful way of saying her name. The R came out with a trill, a habit he had picked up from her as a way of mocking her.

"You're welcome Shadowsinger. I do need a favor in return though." she said bringing up the glass of whatever was in there upto her lips while keeping her eyes glued to him.

"Favour?" he asked ,eyes trailing the movement of the glass to her lips. She might have taken an unnaturally long sip to keep his eyes trained on her mouth.

"Yes." she said breathily watching his eyes flick back to her.

Too far. This was going too far and too fast.

Clearing her throat she said "I demand to be taken to the pastry shop that everyone here seems to rave about. If there's anything to put me out of my misery, it's deliciously sweet pastries."

"Pastries? You know I've heard people say I can be deli--"

"Don't finish that sentence." she said fighting the laughter ready to erupt.

He raised his free hand in mock surrender and tipped back his glass of whisky. She could smell it now. A kiss could could confirm though.

She stole a glance at the tattoos peeking out of his shirt as he turned away from her to place the now empty glass on the floor beside them. He turned back towards her stunning her with the intensity of his gaze.

"Do you want to go now?" he asked shifting himself into a more comfortable position. His arm continued to rest behind her.

"Now? It's the middle of the night."

"I know."

Nyra blinked once, the only indication of her confusion.

"I'm sure the baker would go beyond working hours to put a beautiful woman out of her misery. I've heard he's quite charming."

Nyra was sure that the heat rushing to her face was not the alcohol this time. It was such a cheesy line and yet she almost fanned herself to get rid of the red staining her cheeks.

Azriel who never missed anything especially when it came to her, laughed quietly earning a smack on the arm.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight.” Nyra said trying to collect herself.

“I think I need more now that you’re here.”

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“I think every male requires a bit of liquid courage to be around you.”

“Am I that torturous?”

“You’re resplendent.”

“Is that your new word of the week?”

“One of the many for you.”

“Why Az, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to charm me.”

“You don’t know better then.”

Nyra shut her mouth not knowing what to say. Azriel was much more talkative today. The alcohol had loosened him up and they were crossing into dangerous territory. Nyra would be lying if she told herself she wasn’t getting a rush from it.

“Charmed?” He asked breaking into her thoughts. They’d leaned a little closer to each other in the past few minutes. She was able to smell the heady mix of alcohol and cedar on him that muddled up her brain.

Maybe it was the sudden surge of confidence due to the alcohol or maybe it was the way Azriel was looking at her that made her want to play along.

She leaned even closer , stopping an inch from his face and let her breath wash over his lips as she said “You have to try much harder than that, Shadowsinger.”

His eyes flashed with surprise and desire. They’d never gotten this close to each other before. They really were cartwheeling across the invisible lines they had drawn for themselves today.

A grin broke out on his face sparking something in her chest that made her feel content. He was beautiful. She wanted him.

“I like a bit of a challenge. Things were starting to get boring around here.” He said as his eyes roved over her face as if he were trying to memorise every inch of her.

“Is that what I am? A challenge?” she questioned letting her free hand trace the markings on the ring he wore. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch and felt an absurd amount of satisfaction.

“An enigma.”

“Another word for me?”

“Only for you.”

Her mouth went dry at the stampede of emotions running through her causing her to wet her lips. Azriel attention honed in on that movement and her breath hitched at the predatory focus directed towards her.

After a beat of heavy silence, he gave her another lazy smile and moved away dropping his head back against the couch.

The firelight highlighted his onyx hair and she fisted her palms to stop herself from moving away a stray piece of hair from his face. She needed to leave. If this went any farther, she was reckless enough right now to cross a line they would never come back from.

As if hearing and agreeing with her thoughts, Azriel lifted his head and said to her “Get some sleep. I’ll take you to the pastry shop tomorrow morning. We’ll see how much of your misery can be taken care of.”

She tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment as he removed the hand from behind her. He was leaving. He paused his movements, suddenly studying her face intensely as if he were trying to decide on something.

The next thing she knew, a warm caress of lips touched her bare shoulder igniting a fire within her. Her head went silent, unable to process what just occurred.

“Good night.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his breath setting off goosebumps. Her entire body flushed with heat and before she could mutter her response, he left.

She saw him leave the parlor and realised that everyone had already left for the night. She hadn’t even noticed.

Pouring herself another glass of wine with her only companion being the soft pattering of rain against the windows , Nyra realised she was fucked .

Truly, utterly, completely fucked.

[stellapuffs]

I finally made a Demon Slayer OC 😃😃

Rose breathing is a breathing style that Nyra created

I might post more about her

[themotherofblood]

Prologue . 2 | RIVER OF FIRE | The Heir | D.T x READER x R.T

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 1

tw: child birth, death.

a/n: thank you to @inlovewithhisblueeyes for beta reading this!!

~ will we ever learn, we’ve been here before. it’s just what we know ~

“I refuse, I refuse to have a child, ever. No lord husbands nor knights shall put a babe in me. She is gone, just as my mother did. Septa Marlow went on about what a joyous thing it was to be with child. She is a septa, what the hell does she know about having a child? What joy! death by childbirth. Though I suppose Viserys had his son for mere moments, Rhaenyra is torn. Asleep in my bed after Maester Mellos gave her tea with Nightshade. I sang to her, the very song Aemma did to me. She is gone, I just don’t believe it yet.

“If I give you this, you promise you’ll win?” you raised your hand to show Daemon the crown you were weaving. Made of blue crystal hibiscuses, mint leaves and gold threads. Already dressed in yet another blue gown and hair braided into a neat crown to match Rhaenyra; you sat making your favours instead of worrying for Aemma. You and Rhaenyra wanted to be with her, but it wasn’t proper nor was it a comely place for young girls to be. 

Instead Viserys had Daemon steer away the two of you to make your favours for the Heir’s tourney, he had been particularly worried. Now with a boy likely on the way, Daemon would have to find another damned position at court to remain at King’s Landing rather than return to his lady wife in the Vale. So sitting here with young - impressionable princesses and watching them prattle on about fabrics and knights at court was a far better outcome than Daemon had hoped for. “Is that a deal you wish to make? A victory for a crown of- blue flowers?” he folded his legs together to sit on the carpet with you. Watching as your fingers worked the threads to lace the crown together. “What if I had hoped for another lady’s favour?” 

You looked at him, offended and lips parted as you clutched your crown. “I- should have you-“ your frown deepened “I have made this, by hand, with my gold threads. From Lys!” you said, jutting out word after word “it has blue hibiscuses, not roses like all the other ladies you wish to woo have,” Daemon raised his palms in surrender, already feeling the warmth of aggravation bubbling from being barred from visiting Aemma before her labours began. 

“You get the champion's purse, you help me buy a dagger,” you lowered your voice to relay your plan of sheer mastery to Daemon.  

“What use do you have for a dagger,” he whispered back,  equal parts amused and confused. He couldn’t picture something so small and dear wielding a blade - to what? Use as decoration? “am I to be an accomplice for homicide- princess I am the Lord Commander of the City Watch,” 

“And you are Daemon, perhaps it is you I shall stab first,” you scowled at him once more before pulling yourself up to answer the knock at your door.

Rhaenyra returned from her chambers, dressed in a red gown and hair done like yours with her favour of red calla lilies, “Why is she scowling?” Rhaenyra asked her uncle, fully aware that Daemon might have found another quirk to tease out of you. Nyra, having been the witness of many such rage-fuelled rants, looked at you confused as you stood with your hands on your hips and cheeks full. 

“She plans a homicide, niece,” Daemon coughed to hold in his chuckle. The twitch in your eye made him highly aware of the many objects to your reach that you could hurl at him. “Who is your victim, sweetling? Marsha Tarly?”

“What-?” Rhaenyra looks between her uncle and you, she wouldn’t put you in the category of homicidal people but she wouldn’t put it past your defensive nature. 

“I just want a dagger, and now I’m being framed a murder by your- sweet uncle,” you hurled your doll at Daemon. “You should worry about winning the tourney first? We have a deal?” you motioned to the doors of your bedchamber. Daemon chuckled one more, placing the doll on his lap on the chaise before taking his leave. 

“Is it so odd that a girl must want a dagger?” you turned to Rhaenyra, exasperated at Daemon's teasing, “merely want one, that’s all.”   Your lips pouted as you reached up to kiss Rhaenyra on the lips. A quick peck that she entertained and returned.

“How are you, truly?” you asked her, the goosebumps of anxiety still littering her skin as she worried for her mother. 

“It will be Visenya, I know it.” she replied, pulling you down to sit with her on the chaise. Her blonde brows furrowed to a line and you wished to soothe away whatever discomfort she was feeling. . Albeit, she would never show it on her face. You embrace her tightly and let your head rest in  the crook on her neck. The only way you could show her that you would be here, you would be with her always. 

“Should we head to the tourney  grounds? Let your  people set their eyes upon the Realm’s Delight?” you kissed her cheek as she blushed, and swatted your shoulder at the mention of her title. You knew she loved it even if she pretended not to. 

“We should give you a title too,” Rhaenyra said as she pulled you up, “Oh let’s see, how about….Pain In My Arse.” She  giggled as she watched  your  curious smile turn to yet another scowl before  you shoved her back. 

“Rhaenyra,” you whined, sensing as if she had joined in her uncle’s torment of you, “Must you poke me too?” 

“Ah, forgive me duck,” she held your face to press a kiss on your nose before dragging you out of your bedchambers. 

The festivities  had already begun as the muffled announcements of Viserys echoed from the balcony. The two of you hiked your skirts up and sprinted to race to make it to your seats first. Rhaenyra kissed her father’s cheek as you smiled at him before taking your seats. Plenty of nobles filled every seat in the Game Grounds, all the houses you were forced to remember with their sigils and words. Baratheons fought Tarlys while low-born knights fought nobility with one in particular standing out, Ser Criston Cole.

The man, unhorsing man after man  as his opponents tested his mettle. Rhaenyra looked curious for this could be another knight for the two to fawn over. You had situated yourself in between and Alicent as you chatted about courtly gossip yet again. Men fought and fell and all you could think of were the poor horses being harmed by the jousting. You would rather they participate in a Contest of Arms. 

The knights lined up once more to present themselves on the whims of the Prince of the City. Daemon rode in on his black stallion that Rhaenyra had named Alastor for him for he was tall and dark. Had he not been so particularly annoying at times, your childish heart might have fluttered at the thought of him. However, he  was far from the gentile knights in your books, a knight surely - aye, an arrogant but pretty one. 

“The Prince cannot be allowed to act with such unchecked impunity,”

Impunity my arse

The Maester had timed Aemma’s labours perfectly to the week of the Heir’s Tourney. Daemon worried for his good sister though the fallout of mourning he couldn't handle. He had occasionally wondered if he were to have another dead niece or nephew that he would help name and bury. Then Otto Cunttower found his perfect opportunity to yet again wedge himself between the brothers.Daemon pitied Visery forhe could stare at the blasted throne for hours and still not find the shred of tolerance Viserys had for the Hand’s nonsense. 

He was sure to put Otto’s impunity in check by planning to have the cunt’s own son tossed from his horse, talk about my impunity then.

That and he had truly hoped to win the champion’s purse for Mysaria even though he  made a fruitless bet that he regretted, for you the small princess that begged him for a dagger. Therein lay the truth, you wouldn’t stab Marsha Tarly of two and twenty, but  your eyes may still try to bore daggers into the dim witted girl’s head. 

As he rode to the Painted Bird to visit Mysaria, he mind did wander to daggers that would be appropriate for you and perhaps even is niece. . Could a fucking swordsmith even weld pompels of delicate flowers and kittens? His head toiled on such things as he drank some more. Having won multiple of his brother’s tourney before, a match would be of little challenge. The blood and violence sang to his animalistic desires  as he entered the brothel full of gold cloaks. 

“The Prince has arrived!” Tarbyk? - Torbk exclaimed, buried deep in a common whore of brown hair. Daemon  looked for Mysaria with a smirk on his face. 

“Ready to prepare for yet another victory, my prince,” she kissed his neck, offering him a cup of ale, “shall we drink! For the Heir’s Tourney!” 

Another round of hoots and hollers followed as Daemon revelled in the disarray of it all, the smell of cunt, ale and incense upon the thick day air in the house. Mysaria settled herself on his lap,preening through and through. Mostly Daemon admired her swan-like neck, spending hours just marking her up with his lips and suckling away at the sweet almond oil rubbed on her skin. 

“Do you truly wish to make your Bronze Bitch, Queen?” Mysaria whispered as she nipped at his lobe. 

“Should I have you be my queen instead,” he wryly asked, his purple eyes fixated on her brown ones. 

She cackled, full bellied before burying her head in his shoulder “I’d rather be gelded my prince,” 

Daemon’s eyes held a yearning sense of mischief, unable to sexually satisfy himself let alone his gorgeous paramour in white. He planned to make a present of unyielding peaks tonight to her, fucking away the truth that come morrow he would yet again have to fight for his place to remain at court, by his brother, in his home and with his family. 

As he arrived at the Tourney grounds, the smell of victory and coppery blood already lingered in the heir. His prized stallion Alastor awaited another pleasant win for he was to remain uncontested at the jousting fields. You are a dragon, you are fire. He closed his eyes, whispering the words his mother once said to him before pushing his reins to ride forth as the Game Master announced his titles. 

Shrill screams of women and based shouts of men echoed, muffled under Daemon's helmet as a knowing smirk crept up onto his lip, this was home, this was his kingdom. A place where he was far better than his brother, he looked to the balcony where his brother sat, proud and crowned. Heir’s Tourney, he was sure to give the people of King’s Landing a spectacle to remember. 

Daemon trotted down the line up of knights, Baratheon, Tully, Stark, Mooton, Serret, Hightower- Hightower. He pointed his lance at Gywane Hightower, wishing it was Otto’s head instead as he picked his opponent. The Game Master yet again announced his choice as both men rode for the balconies, what he expected was to have his lance decorated in the blue crown you made. 

The girls all huddled to the iron bar, leaning down to look at the knights, unaware which one was to give their favour to who. Though appeared prepared as you walked to position yourself in front of Daemon. The deal you had struck with him seemed to have been taken very seriously by you. The Hightower born instead opened his mouth as he called for you.

“I would humbly ask for the favour of the Princess of Dorne,” he projected, the tip of his lance resting by where you stood. 

Why this cunt-

He would lose, you knew it, Rhaenyra knew it and Daemon knew it. Your straightened shoulders slumped in defeat but the polite smile on your face never faded as you slid the crown down his lance. “I wish good fortune to you, Ser Gywane,” you said, looking at Daemon apprehensively.

Though he knew the sweet thing you were, you’d never ask him to lose, though win or lose. It wouldn’t matter for your wish of a dagger would be diffused regardless. Daemon rebuttals with the only other thing he could as he looks to Alicent peeling away at her fingers. 

“Now…” he trotted forward to where Alicent stood. “I’m fairly certain I could win these games Lady Alicent. Your favour would all but assure it” strike of gold as the young lady turned to look at her father before flinging down her favour at Daemon. Who knew he would get to maim Gywane Hightower with his own sister’s blessing. “I shall keep my promise,” he said to you before viciously eyeing the blue crystal- blue flowers upon Hightower’s jousting pole.

Daemon thereafter rode to his end of line, he stretched out his neck one and then twice, you are fire, he looked to his side, crowd murmuring in anticipation, the ladies enthusiastically leaning over the bars. Daemon took another breath before nudging Alastor to attention and charging forward. He tested the green knight once, feeling the jousting pole gash against his armour as he traced the other end. 

Daemon quickly drifted around, reaching for another pole before charging yet again, come to me motherfucker, his dirty trick of aiming for the horse’s legs sent Gywane Hightower landing on his face. Dirt covered and no doubt bleeding, a broken nose mayhaps? 

He looked up to the stands once more, seeing the disdained glare decorate Otto Hightower’s face. Satiating Daemon’s monstrous hunger as he trotted away to prepare for the next round. 

You looked away, the second you heard the horse screech and topple over, poor thing. Alicent silently gasped, watching her brother fall over as both you and Rhaenyra grabbed one hand each to comfort her.  She had bitten away at her skin with blood pooling around her fingers, you couldn’t watch either being sure that you’d grow sick from hearing another horse cry. 

“Come with me,” you whispered in her ear, pulling her up with you as you exited the stand while rubbing your belly to soothe it. You both ventured to the Godswood instead, Ser Darklyn followed at your heel until you sat with Alicent under the Weirwood tree. 

“I’m sorry about your brother,” you gave her a sympathetic smile “only the gods will know what joy men find in these cruel games.”

“He will be fine, I think.” Alicent mindlessly traced her fingers on the lace of her light blue dress. “We match today,” she pointed out. 

You looked at your dress and then hers “I suppose we do, blue is a wonderous colour.” 

“You are to have your hems dropped soon, any chances of your dressing turning mustard?” she asked with a knowing look to her eye, a question you had been asked multiple times before. 

“Maybe..?” you groaned before laying against a section between the roots “if I visit Dorne for the Voyage Day festivities, I am sure my brother would send me home with a crate of mustard and orange dresses.” 

You, in a childish rage, had sworn off the mustard the moment you arrived on the Blackwater shores as ward, when Aemma took to acquiring things for you to appeal to your spirits. You had all your mustard gowns donated for shades of blue, the ones that reminded you of the beaches at Old Palace. There even is a galant vessel named after you, docked at the Blackwater ports in Dragonstone. She sails on every one of your name days, though the Blackwater is far too murky to swim unlike The Sunset Sea. 

“You ought to stop doing that, you won’t have fingers anymore,” you gestured at her fingers as she shyly hid away. 

“I can’t seem to stop…” Alicent mumbled, averting her eyes elsewhere. 

“Maybe twirl you twist your rings instead?” you suggested, they often worked to soothe the anxiety in your chest whenever you visited court or in this case had to sit through brutal games. She nodded, looking at her own rings. You both thereafter sat in silence, it was comforting, it was home as your companionship remained true even years after. 

The muffled shouts from the Game Grounds still reached your ears as you basked in the sun, the slow wind lulling you to a slumber as you had risen far too early today for your liking, you could sleep all day if it were allowed. However today brought on a different exhaustion, in the back of your mind all you could think of Aemma labouring. Toiling if Rhaenyra, Alicent, Laena and you had decorated yet another crib to mourn a child. The egg that awaited this child at the nursery’s hearth, mayhaps it would have a rider. 

“Did you know Lady Marband is hiding a belly?” Alicent spoke up after a while. 

You giggled, nodding to agree. “Oberya told me, here I thought she was getting fat.”

“She is already fat,” Alicent sniggered as you giggled once more.

“She does look beautiful though, the motherhood glow I suppose,” you looked up at her “do you know who?” 

“My pin money is on Lord Massey’s eldest,” she shrugged. 

“No…no?” you laughed, unable to imagine a whore monger like him being wed, the stories of the women in his bedchamber was well known by every brick upon the Red Keep. “Are we sure it’s not the younger one?” 

“Have you ever seen him not look purple whenever a lady speaks to him?” Alicent raised a brow making you giggle once more. “He nearly fainted when Rhaenyra spoke to him once.” 

Rhaenyra sat within the merriments of the stands with her family, Laena now sitting next to her as they gushed about the games. Though every now and then a commoner or squire would wave at the young princess, to which she would politely smile back. Daemon had torn through the lot of the combatants, and as was expected. Having nearly slain two knights, and broken bones of many others as he kept up with his eccentric tricks on the field. 

All of whom were left was him and Ser Criston Cole, this might have been one of the most exacting moments. Perhaps her dear uncle would finally meet his match.

“Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of the City.”

Ser Criston lifted his visor as he approached the stands, lifting his lance at Rhaenyra “I was hoping to ask for the Princess’s favour,” he huffed breathlessly. 

Rhaenyra smirked at Daemon before obliging and slotting her favour down Criston’s lance “I wish you luck, Ser Criston.”

She was far to enthralled by the fighting as the men wasted away two jousting poles before Criston unhorsed Daemon, the fighting continued by hand and while she felt a sting of guilt for favouring against her uncle, it would be an amusing thing to witness Daemon Targaryen finally be bested.

The ruckus behind her was completely forgotten as first Otto Hightower left and then her father King Viserys. In her excitement, she cheered by the bars, clapping along and hooting with Laenor by her side. Blow after blow and still the tension was amiss to her. The Small Council dispersed after, following behind the whispers of the servants. 

Aemma’s screams had long stopped echoing from Maegor’s Holdfast, merely an interchange of midwives carrying towels and basins of water. You had noticed the shuffling down the corridors first, the cheers from the games were still far too loud for the attendant to be filling the halls already. You frowned at Alicent before standing up, your curious mind begging you to follow. 

“I shall return in a moment,” you told her with a confused expression covering your features, she nodded before you could leave. 

As the servant girls began running up the stairs to the Holdfast, excitement grew in your belly. Perhaps the new babe was here, mayhaps a girl to add to your flock. Just as you turned the hallway, your eyes found servants with bloodied towels and sheets in their hands. Basins of pink water covered in pulp like mess, you froze, this was so much blood. It stained the cream of their tunics as they carried these sheets away in a hurry. 

You would have rushed up the stairs to Aemma’s bedchambers, instead you were met with distraught Rhaenyra being pulled out of the stairway by Ser Westerling, he passed a knowing look to Ser Darklyn who was prepared to catch you from running up those stairs. 

“Rhaenyra?” you questioned, you held onto her shoulder but she just kept sobbing. 

“Princess perhaps you might resume to your chambers,” Ser Darklyn requested from behind you. You followed Rhaenyra all the way to your shared quarters. 

“She is dead,” Rhaenyra cried in your arms as you hugged her on the divan, the tears that should have been coating your face too seemed to have disappeared entirely. You just held onto Rhaenyra, that’s all you could do. Alicent did all the consoling, cooing and talking Rhaenyra through her grief. 

Your tongue felt heavy, you had known loss before but this was raw. You had seen her just last night, she laid a kiss upon your cheek before bed. She wasn’t your mother, but she was more, she was Aemma. You would have thought that Viserys would have come to visit but he never did, even as the glaring moon graced her skies. 

The Archmaester himself brought along a tea with Nightshade to help Rhaenyra sleep, her crying found no end until the tea was coaxed into her. Rhaenys visited once, as you succumbed to a slight doze when she grazed her hand upon Rhaenyra’s head. You had awoken to her shushing you back to sleep and squeezing Alicent’s hand. 

You awoke within the early hours of day, the servants filling out to light the candles, your own handmaiden along with Alicent and Rhaenyra’s awaited in the receiving chambers, in your bed chambers a black gown awaited you. 

“Do I have to?” You looked to Sona, she softened her eyes, holding the gown up. 

“It is proper, highness,” she shrugged.

You emerged from your bed chambers to the dining hall, though it was slowly being filled with food. Not a soul loomed in the room, you sat in your chair, frowning hard as you pulled your feet onto the chair. Finding no use of appropriate posture in an empty room. 

“Princess,” Daemon snapped you out of your dazed thoughts. 

“Daemon.” You acknowledged as your frown softened, you pushed your feet off the chair to resume a more ladylike stance. He too dressed in black.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his own voice hoarse from the games yesterday. 

You hadn’t given much thought to how you felt, in truth you weren’t sure if the sensations with you even realized you had truly lost someone. “I- I don’t know.” You shook your head. “You?” 

Daemon grunted rather than replying. It was only then it dawned you to ask the question. 

“Is it a son?” you asked, unsure if this was an inappropriate time. 

“Was a son,” he replied before looking away. Having not more of an answer to give to you. “Rhaenyra?”

“Asleep, Mellos gave her Nightshade,” you said as a matter of fact. Yet again silence graced the room as you tried to nibble away at some melons. A son, was a son. What was the point? Then you felt it, the harder you thought the bile began to rise to the back of your throat. You were sure your palms were growing hot. 

“I know what I feel…” you whispered, making Daemon look at you. “Angry, I feel angry.” At two and ten, you lost yet another mother. All so a man would have an heir (heirs) your eyes watered in the rage you felt. 

“I have to go help Rhaenyra dress.”

on ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/47686021/chapters/120437398

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