#o my daughter o my sorrow

[knightofleo]

William Basinski | O, My Daughter, O, My Sorrow

[lizzyiii]

I LOVE THE DRAGONS TREASURE

Please tell me she claims a dragon

Uhhhh, well why don't you read and see...

The Dragon's Treasure (2)

pairing | young aemond targaryen x niece!reader

word count | 8.5k words

summary | ‘You leaned into the Queen’s side, the comforting warmth of her presence allowing fresh sobs to escape. All you could think was how it felt to be given away by your mother, as confusion and sorrow swirled in your heart like a storm.’

tags | ANGST, ANGST AND MORE ANGST, targaryen incest, reader is described to have silver hair and lilac eyes, depression, suicidal thoughts, as always reader is a sensitive queen 👑, reader really goes through it

a/n | I'm SO SORRY this took so long. Also I couldn't put everything in here or else it could've been like 15k words, so guess whatttt, there will now be A PART 3, which will be the final part of this which WILL have a HAPPY ENDING. Anyway enjoy

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 1 is 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 3

Laenor’s frustration hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to reach out and envelop the room. "How could you do this, Rhaenyra?" he hissed, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. He paced across the chamber, the sound of his boots echoing against the stone walls.

Rhaenyra, seated beside you as you lay asleep, cast her gaze downward, her expression shadowed by shame. Her injured arm was pressed tightly against her chest, while her other hand delicately brushed aside the strands of hair that fell across your serene face.

"It was the only way to preserve the fragile peace, Laenor," she replied softly, her voice barely a whisper, yet heavy with sorrow as she focused on you.

Laenor’s frustration erupted once more as he countered, "By giving away our daughter?" His tone was hushed, yet the anguish etched across his features spoke volumes.

"And what do you call your intention to abandon her?" Rhaenyra's retort was fierce, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and hurt.

Laenor's gaze dropped, shame washing over him. He clenched his jaw, the weight of truth too heavy to bear. It was true—after much debate with Rhaenyra and Daemon, the decision had been made to stage his own death, allowing him the chance to flee with Qarl. The thought churned within him like a storm. "You should’ve spoken to me first," he murmured at last, his voice softer, tinged with the ache of sorrow.

"Mother," your weak voice echoed in the chamber, silencing the hushed argument between your parents.

A sharp pain throbbed in your head, the remnants of a distant ringing lingering like a ghost. With great effort, you began to sit up, but your mother gently urged you back, her voice soothing yet urgent, "My love, settle back. Do not strain yourself."

The world around you remained a blur as you blinked, trying to shake off the fog that clouded your mind. "What—what happened?" you managed to ask, your voice soft and uncertain.

Your gaze wandered to the window, where the soft light of dawn poured in, painting the room in warm hues. "What is the last thing you remember, my sweet?" your father asked from your other side, concern etched upon his features. You turned to him, puzzled, noticing the deep worry in his eyes.

Closing your eyes, you grasped at the fragments of the night that felt just out of reach. "Jace woke me, and then—there was a fight," you stammered, urgency clawing at your chest as you opened your eyes wide. "Is everyone alright? Is Aemond alright?"

Your mother’s lips pressed together as she exchanged a troubled glance with your father. "Your brothers and cousins are fine," she began carefully, "but… Aemond lost his eye."

Your heart plummeted at her words, and tears brimmed in your lilac eyes as memories flickered like a dim flame. "Luke?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“Yes,” your mother whispered gently, searching your eyes with a steady resolve, “but he only acted to protect Jace from Aemond.”

“No,” you breathed out, shaking your head in denial, desperation threading through your voice, “Aemond would never truly hurt Jace.”

“But it’s alright,” Rhaenyra interjected, dismissing your words with an air of resignation. “Aemond said that Vhagar was worth the sacrifice.”

Worth the sacrifice? You struggled to comprehend how anything could justify the loss of an eye. A deep longing stirred within you to see Aemond, to confirm that he was truly alright. Your gaze flitted anxiously between your mother and father before the memory of the loud commotion that had pulled you from your sleep surged back. “Why were you and Father fighting?”

Your father arched an eyebrow, turning his attention to your mother with an air of expectation, “Well, Rhaenyra?”

Your mother offered a strained smile, her hand gently brushing your cheek as if to shield you from any remaining tension in the air. “To ensure peace between our families, the Queen and I have decided to betroth you to Aemond. You will wed when you turn seven and ten. But do not fret, dear one; you and Aemond are the closest of friends.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your father’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Rhaenyra, tell her the rest.”

With a small sigh, your mother looked away, a shadow passing over her face. “During your betrothal, the Queen insists you stay in the Red Keep.”

Feelings swirled within you at the thought of being promised to Aemond. Yes, he was your dear friend, but never had you envisioned him as your husband. As memories of the past returned—those cruel words Aemond had hurled at your cousins and brothers—you felt a knot form in your stomach. Yet, a flutter of hope ignited in your heart as you looked up at your mother. “Does that mean we’re going home?”

Your mother’s eyes widened, confusion washing over you as you noticed tears pooling within them. “No, my treasure,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “We shall remain in Dragonstone while you live in King’s Landing.”

The air seemed to thicken around you, and your heart felt like it had cracked open at her words. "What?" You clutched her tightly, burying your face against her soft dress, your voice muffled as you pleaded, "I don’t want to be away from you."

“It will be alright,” Rhaenyra whispered gently, pressing her lips to your brow. “We will write letters every day, and you will come visit us at Dragonstone.” You could hear the tremble in her voice, even as she held you close, tears started to shimmer in Rhaenyra’s eyes, her heart aching as she cradled you in her arms, trying to soothe both your sorrow and her own. “All will be well, I promise.”

It was the only path left before her. By sending you to the Greens, she hoped to weave a thread of peace, to quiet their unrest, and when the time was right, she would reclaim you from their grasp.

You pulled back, your little nose pink and tear-streaked cheeks glistening with sorrow as your gaze fell upon her injured hand. “What happened to your hand?” you asked, concern etched across your cherubic face.

Rhaenyra fought back the urge to weep at your innocent worry. Even through your own heartbreak, you were thinking of her. She offered you the best smile she could muster, brushing a thumb softly against your cheek as she kissed your forehead. “It’s naught to trouble yourself over, my love.”

Her eyes drifted toward Laenor, who stood nearby, his face a mask of despair as he looked down at you.

"I do not wish to leave, please, Father, do not make me go," you whimpered softly, clutching at him as he carried you toward the Driftmark courtyard, where a carriage awaited to take you away. You had heard that Helaena, Aegon, and Aemond had already set sail on a ship, so you would be accompanying the Queen.

"I trust your mother’s wisdom," his voice was gentle. "You know that I love you, don't you?"

You nodded quietly, burying your face into the comforting crook of his neck, seeking solace from the storm brewing in your heart. Laenor paused, his hands steadying you as he whispered, "Look at me, my sweet. I've come to a most profound realization."

With a flicker of curiosity, you lifted your head, your sad lilac eyes searching his face, "What is it?"

He regarded you with a deep, thoughtful gaze for a moment before speaking, "That nothing and no one shall ever hold my heart as you do." He leaned closer and pressed a tender kiss upon your nose, a gesture meant to seal the words in a bond of love, "You are and will always be my greatest love."

At his declaration, your lips quivered, and hastily you retreated into the comforting warmth of his embrace, hiding your face against him once more.

You felt him exhale softly, the sound laced with an emotion you could not name, before he asked with a quiet sincerity, "Do you wish for my happiness?"

"More than anything, Father," you replied without hesitance, your voice a whisper wrapped in sincerity.

With your head nestled against him, you were unaware of the tears that brimmed in his eyes. He brushed his lips gently across your brow, murmuring softly, "Good, that’s good.

As you and your father finally stepped into the sunlit courtyard, you turned your gaze to take in the bustling crowd.

Your cousins, Baela and Rhaena, stood close by, flanked by your grandparents, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. A frown crossed your face as you spotted your great uncle Daemon standing beside your brothers and mother too close for your liking. Opposite them, before the grand carriage, stood Queen Alicent, her expression poised as she appeared to await your arrival.

With a gentle motion, your father set you down before your mother. As you looked up, you noticed Jace and Luke actively avoiding your eyes, their faces averted. Your mother knelt before you, her hands tenderly cradling your cheeks. "Do not fret, my sweet treasure. We shall be together again soon."

At her comforting words, fresh tears welled in your lilac eyes as you suddenly launched yourself into her embrace, clinging to her waist and burying your face in the soft fabric of her skirts. "I don’t want to go!" you cried out, your voice breaking.

Your small hands tightened around her skirts as you felt your father’s gentle persistence in trying to pry you away from your mother, and you protested fiercely, "No, I won’t go! You can’t make me!"

Your mother, her heart heavy with sorrow, cupped your cheeks in her hands, trying to soothe your tempest of emotions. “Hush, my love,” she whispered, her voice a tender balm against your distress.

Around you, pitying gazes flickered like candle flames—your grandparents’ melancholic expressions, your cousins’ shared discomfort. Jace’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears while Luke, overwhelmed, covered his ears, trying to drown out your wails. Rhaenyra felt a crack in her resolve as she listened to your sobs, contemplating possibly halting your betrothal. But then, a steady touch on her shoulder drew her attention. It was Daemon, giving her a firm nod, a silent promise of encouragement.

Steeling herself, Rhaenyra placed her hands over your tiny fists, carefully prying you away from her gown. She lifted your small face to meet her gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. “You must perform your duty to the crown,” she said firmly, the weight of her words grounding her as she continued, “You are a princess now—act like it.” Each word felt like a dagger to her own heart, yet she managed to keep her voice steady, unwilling to let her emotions betray her in front of the others.

You looked up at her, your large, glistening eyes begging for understanding as you bit down on your lip, desperate to stifle your cries. It was then that you felt a soft hand on your shoulder and you saw your mother’s once-kind eyes harden and her lips set into a determined line.

Behind you, Queen Alicent's voice rang out with gentle authority, “Do not worry, sweet princess. We shall take good care of you.”

With one last lingering gaze at your mother, you allowed the Queen to lead you away. As you settled into the carriage alongside her and your grandsire, the weight of your sadness enveloped you once more. You leaned into the Queen’s side, the comforting warmth of her presence allowing fresh sobs to escape. All you could think was how it felt to be given away by your mother, as confusion and sorrow swirled in your heart like a storm.

Aemond's heart was heavy with worry. No, it wasn’t just worry—it was a deep, gnawing distress that coiled in his chest like a serpent.

The thrill of claiming Vhagar had filled him with such joy, he had felt as if he could touch the moon itself. The moment he soared through the skies on the back of the great dragon, he had thought only of you, eager to share the monumental news. In his mind, you would have clapped your hands and laughed with delight, celebrating the bond forged between rider and beast.

But fate had other plans. Just when he imagined your bright smile lighting up the sky, your brothers and cousins had to swoop in, like crows scattering the sunlight.

He could still picture the way you had stared at him, your eyes wide, but not with excitement. No, there was something else in your gaze—hurt. Aemond’s heart twisted painfully. What did it matter that he had claimed Vhagar? Didn’t you understand? He had done it for both of you, to lift you higher, to make you proud.

And just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, the air crackled with tension. Your stupid cousin had lunged, and in that moment, everything exploded into chaos. And then much worse — his bastard nephew had struck you. It didn’t matter if it was an accident or a deliberate attack; Aemond saw only red. All he could think of was defending your honor, standing up for you. But that brave impulse led to disaster—the sharp, searing pain of loss as your bastard brother struck him down, taking his eye and leaving an aching void in its place.

The pain was unlike anything Aemond had ever known. As the sharp impact seared through him, a crimson tide flooded down his cheek, hot and frightening. For a fleeting moment, fear clawed at his insides; he truly believed he would not survive this. The world around him dimmed, distorted by the sudden absence of sight, as the maester began to stitch the ravaged flesh, one painful tug at a time. In that disorienting haze, it felt as if all the light had been extinguished, leaving him vulnerable and alone.

In the throng of shouting, his mother alone stood as his shield, her voice rising powerfully over the din. Where was the king? His father seemed indifferent, preoccupied with the whispers of bastardy that tainted his grandson's names, ignoring his son’s suffering. Aemond felt a pang of betrayal deep in his heart, a bitter realization that the bonds of blood carried chains as much as love.

But more damning still was your stillness. You lay unconscious atop a small cot, the aftermath of your collision against a stone wall. His worry for you gnawed at his mind, a relentless ache more piercing than the wound that marred his face. Around him, the fighting raged on, but all it did was intensify the throbbing where his eye had been, and in desperation, he called out, declaring that his lost eye was a worthy sacrifice for a dragon—any dragon.

Then his mother came to him, her expression conveying hope. She spoke of a betrothal, weaving a promise between the two of you like a delicate thread. In that moment, Aemond's heart swelled with a light that eclipsed the agony gripping his face.

You would be his wife; destined to stand at his side forever. It was a beautiful twist of fate meant to be, a binding forged that made him forget, at least for a heartbeat, that he was now a boy with only one eye.

But now, after a fortnight spent back in the imposing halls of the Red Keep, he still had not laid eyes on you since that fateful night in Driftmark. At first, his mother had told him you were too distraught, struggling to settle back in King’s Landing without your mother and siblings. Aemond could understand that; he knew how deeply you loved his sister, though he had no clue as to why.

Yet, days passed, and the weight of your absence grew heavier. Then, the letter arrived. A letter relaying how your father, Laenor Velaryon, had been murdered. His mother, with a grave expression, had explained that you were in no condition for visitors, grief stricken and devastated. Aemond felt a surge of frustration mixed with a pang of empathy. How could he possibly comfort you from afar?

Despite his mother’s warnings, he refused to be deterred. Each day, without fail, he ventured to your chambers, his heart pounding with hope and desperation. Each time, he was met with the same stony refusal from your sworn shield, Ser Rowan. The knight’s demeanor was unwavering, his expression a mixture of duty and pity that only fueled Aemond’s determination.

With a final, resentful glance at the shield that stood between him and you, he turned away, but not before giving your door a lingering look—his heart aching to see you, to offer even a word of solace.

That’s when a cunning idea sparked in his mind. He recalled the tales of Maegor the Cruel, who, in his paranoia, had carved secret tunnels through the very walls of the Red Keep. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could find a way in. Aemond’s pulse quickened at the thought of sneaking through those hidden passages, unseen and unnoticed, until he could finally stand before you.

He took a deep breath, his determination solidifying. No more waiting, no more barriers. He would find you, even if it meant crawling through the dark, twisting shadows of the Red Keep. You were destined to be together, and he would not allow the two of you to be apart any longer.

It had taken Aemond a full week—seven days of frustration, of feeling like a fool. He had spent those days pacing the cold stone walls of the Red Keep, touching every surface in hopes of discovering one of the fabled tunnels of Maegor the Cruel. They said the king had built secret ways throughout the castle, but Aemond had no guide, no map. Only his determination kept him searching. Then, at last, he'd found one—hidden behind a grand tapestry depicting dragons in flight.

Excitement had quickly turned to terror. Once inside the dark, winding passageways, Aemond realized he was hopelessly lost. The stone walls seemed to close in on him, their narrow confines suffocating. Hours passed before he finally stumbled out, breathless and covered in dust, into the kitchens. The sky outside had turned to night, and his stomach gnawed at him from hunger. He looked a sight—dirty, disheveled, and no closer to his goal.

The next time, he would not make the same mistake. He had prepared this time, studying the first tunnel he’d discovered and memorizing the paths it led to. He knew now how to navigate these secret ways, and his heart raced at the thought of where they might lead him.

Tonight, he sought your chambers.

Quiet as a shadow, he slipped through the concealed door in the wall, pushing it open just enough to sneak inside. His eyes darted around the room before he found a hiding place behind a tall dressing screen. From there, he could see only part of the room.

Aemond stood quietly behind the carved wooden screen, peering through the delicate patterns to catch a glimpse of his mother, Alicent. She sat beside the bed, where you were hidden beneath a heavy blanket, your figure barely visible. He strained to hear the conversation, his curiosity mingling with worry.

"You must eat, my sweet princess," Alicent's voice trembled slightly, though she tried to keep her tone soothing. Her words echoed through the chamber, filling the air with tension that made Aemond's heart tighten.

He frowned, sensing the tension in the room, the weight of his mother's concern. But you gave no answer, not even a whisper, and the silence only deepened his anxiety.

"If you do not eat," his mother continued, her voice sharper now, filled with urgency, "you will waste away. You will die."

Aemond swallowed hard. He hadn’t known it was this bad. He pressed himself closer to the screen, his young mind racing. What could he do? How could he help?

The silence finally broke, but the sound of your voice was weak, and it made Aemond's stomach churn. "I do not care," you said, the weariness in your tone hanging in the air like a shadow. Aemond frowned deeply, his heart racing. It sounded as though you hadn’t spoken in days.

"I wish to be with my father," you whispered, and Aemond felt the words like a blow. His hands clenched at his sides as his chest grew tight.

Queen Alicent gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest. "Princess..." she murmured, her voice barely above a breath.

A heavy silence lingered for a few moments, only broken by the sound of Alicent’s soft sigh. She leaned forward and gently caressed your brow, her fingers smoothing your hair with a mother’s care. "I shall return later," she said softly, though there was a hint of sadness in her tone. "Perhaps by then, you will be in better spirits."

She rose from the bed, her gown rustling softly as she turned to leave. Aemond stayed perfectly still, his breath held until his mother had exited the chamber, her footsteps fading down the corridor. Only then did he dare to move, waiting a moment longer before stepping out from behind the screen, the weight of your words still heavy on his mind.

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat tight as he stepped cautiously toward your bed. The tension in the room made the air thick, and his hands had already begun to tremble. He cleared his throat, though it did little to ease the nervousness tightening his chest. "Niece," he called softly, hoping the word might draw some warmth from you.

But you lay there, still as stone, offering him no sign that you’d heard. His heart quickened, not just from excitement but from something colder—apprehension. "It is me, Aemond," he said, trying again, this time louder, as if his voice could somehow break through the wall you had built around yourself.

"Leave," you croaked, your voice rough from disuse. The word, though weak, struck him like a lash.

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he edged closer to your bedside despite the rejection. His heart ached at the sight of you, eyes barely open, a sliver of sharp lilac staring back at him with the irritation of a cornered animal. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I know you are in pain—"

"Go away," you interrupted, your voice fragile, cracking under the weight of your sorrow as you pulled the covers over your head, shielding yourself from him, from the world.

Aemond stood frozen, his brow furrowing deeply, the sting of your words sharper than he expected. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the vulnerability he had tried so hard to bury rise to the surface. His voice was barely above a whisper as he let slip the truth he had kept locked away. "I… I’ve missed you."

Your silence stung worse than anything you could have said. Then, muffled beneath the covers, you spoke firmly, your voice laced with bitterness. "Leave me be, Aemond."

Desperation took hold of him. His face grew hot as he reached out toward the blanket that hid you, fingers trembling. "Please," he whispered, voice cracking, "just speak to me. Let me help you."

Suddenly, the covers flew back, and you sat up, your face twisted in an anger that made Aemond step back as if he had been struck. The look in your eyes—sharp, hateful—was something he had never seen before, not directed at him. "Now you wish to help?" you spat, your voice ringing through the chamber, venomous and cold. "You’ve ruined everything, Aemond."

His heart pounded painfully in his chest. "What?" He stared at you, confusion clouding his mind. What had he done?

"Because of your selfish ambitions," you snarled, your voice rising with every word, "my mother had to give me away. If it weren’t for you, I would still be with them—still be with my father!" Tears brimmed in your lilac eyes, the sight of them making his stomach churn.

Aemond felt like the floor had dropped from beneath him. How could this be his fault? He didn’t understand. "Niece—please," he whispered, but his voice sounded small and powerless, even to himself.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and when you spoke again, the words shattered him. "I hate you, Aemond. And I will hate you for the rest of our lives." Your voice broke as the tears finally fell, streaming down your cheeks. "Now go!"

Your scream echoed through the room, and Aemond felt wetness on his own cheeks. His chest tightened, and the lump in his throat grew unbearable. He flinched as he heard your knight call for you from outside the chamber, likely drawn by your raised voice.

Breathing heavily, Aemond glanced at you one last time, your tear-streaked face seared into his mind. His body moved on instinct, turning away, his feet carrying him swiftly back toward the secret door he had come through. His heart was heavy with a pain he had never felt before, not even when he had lost his eye, and as he slipped away, the weight of your words followed him into the darkness.

Queen Alicent paced the length of her chambers, her mind in turmoil. She had never anticipated this outcome when she brought you to the Red Keep, far from Dragonstone, far from your mother, Princess Rhaenyra. She had believed that under her guidance, you would flourish. As her ward, betrothed to Aemond, your closest companion, she imagined you would grow into a graceful, dutiful princess—one who would restore the honor of House Targaryen, untarnished by the reckless whims of your mother.

In her heart, Alicent had even dared to hope that you might surpass Rhaenyra, earning the love of the people as the true 'Realm’s Delight.' But those dreams now seemed distant and foolish.

It had all gone wrong.

Alicent had grossly underestimated the bond you held with your mother, the Princess. The spirited, joyful girl she had known—the one who ran through the halls of the Red Keep with Aemond at your side—had withered before her very eyes. In mere weeks, you had become a ghost, hollow and silent, consumed by grief and loneliness. Being torn from your mother’s side, followed by the sudden news of your father’s death, had shattered something deep within you.

Alicent was powerless. She could feel the weight of her failure pressing down on her, and it terrified her. You had stopped eating, and each time she visited your chambers, the sight of you grew more distressing. Your once-cherubic face had grown gaunt, your cheeks hollow, and the dark rings under your violet eyes seemed to deepen with every passing day. The life that had once shone so brightly within you was now dim, fading with each moment that you refused to take nourishment.

In truth, Alicent no longer cared about the feud between her and Rhaenyra. She no longer saw you as a pawn in the game of succession, a princess bound to her son. All of that had crumbled in the face of her growing fear for your health. She couldn’t stand by and watch you waste away, not like this.

She had tried everything—soft words, coaxing, but nothing had worked. You remained trapped in your sorrow, unreachable, silent. Desperation clawed at her heart, and in that desperation, she did something she had not imagined she would ever do.

Alicent sat at her desk, trembling hands grasping a quill as she penned a letter to Princess Rhaenyra. She pushed aside her pride, her anger, her fear of what this might mean for the tensions between their families. None of that mattered now. Only you mattered.

“Princess Rhaenyra, your daughter is unwell,” she wrote, her heart heavy with each stroke of the pen. “I ask—no, I beg you to come to the Red Keep at once. She needs you. I fear that without her mother, she may not survive this grief. Please, come swiftly.”

The letter was sealed with wax, her hand shaking as she pressed the Targaryen sigil into it. For once, Alicent did not think of herself, nor of the coming war over the Iron Throne. She only thought of the fragile girl with lilac eyes, fading away in the chambers of the Red Keep.

"Send it," she ordered the servant, her voice tight with emotion. "Have the fastest raven dispatched to Dragonstone."

But a week had passed, and there had been no response. Alicent cursed Rhaenyra’s negligence. How could she ignore such a plea? How could she allow her own daughter to wither away in the Red Keep, as if you were some pawn to be discarded?

What Alicent did not know was that the letter had never reached Rhaenyra’s hands. No, it had fallen into the possession of Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince had taken one glance at the letter and, with a smirk of indifference, tossed it into the flames of the hearth. In his eyes, you were of no use to him. Another heir of Rhaenyra’s blood, one more obstacle between him and his ambitions for his own children. Let the girl perish, he thought with cold calculation. It was one less threat to his plans for the Iron Throne.

Alicent, unaware of this, grew more anxious with each passing day. No response from Dragonstone. No sign of Rhaenyra. She could not wait any longer. In her desperation, she turned to another—a hope that perhaps your dearest friend, Helaena, might reach you where others had failed. Helaena, her sweet daughter, only three years your senior, had always been close to you, sharing dreams and secrets in happier times.

Alicent clasped her hands together as she stood outside your chamber, her nerves taut. She turned to Ser Rowan, your sworn knight, who had guarded you since your first breath.

"Any change today?" she asked, though her voice betrayed little hope.

Ser Rowan, his face dark with guilt, shook his head solemnly. "No, Your Grace. She has not stirred."

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line, and with a nod, she pushed open the door, Helaena trailing close behind. The chamber was as it always was—quiet, heavy with the air of grief. You lay in the bed, as still and silent as if the world outside had ceased to exist.

Alicent cleared her throat, trying to inject warmth into her voice. "Princess," she called gently, "I’ve brought a guest for you."

You did not stir. You did not acknowledge her at all. It was as if the words had fallen into an abyss.

Alicent’s heart sank. She glanced down at Helaena and gave her a nod of encouragement. Perhaps, just perhaps, her daughter could say what she could not.

Helaena moved slowly, her steps light as she approached your bed and sat beside you. She said nothing at first, simply humming a soft, melodic tune under her breath. From the small chest she had brought, she carefully lifted something between her fingers. The sight of her silent actions caught your attention, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, your small head peeked from beneath the covers, your curiosity piqued.

Alicent held her breath, hope blooming in her chest.

Helaena continued to hum as she gently played with the small creature in her hands, a soft smile on her lips. After a few moments of silence, you finally spoke, your voice weak and quiet. "What's that?"

Without glancing at you, Helaena murmured, "Buprestidae."

Your face scrunched in confusion, and Helaena, with her usual dreamy tone, elaborated, "It is more commonly known as the jewel beetle."

Your eyes widened in quiet wonder as you gazed at the shiny emerald insect in her hand. Its iridescent shell shimmered in the dim light, captivating your attention. "It’s very pretty," you whispered.

A faint smile touched Helaena’s lips. "My books say it is one of the most beautiful insects in the world," she said gently, her voice filled with affection as she watched your interest grow.

"Wow," you breathed, your small voice barely audible. Then, with a glimmer of your old self shining through, you looked up at Helaena, your lilac eyes filled with a trace of life. "Will you tell me more about them?"

There was a brief pause as Helaena's eyes drifted toward the untouched tray of food sitting beside your bed. She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but firm as she made her quiet bargain. "I will... but only if you finish your soup."

Alicent’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched you hesitate, the tension in the room thick. She held her breath, praying to the gods that you would comply. After a moment of silence, you reached for the bowl and, with slow, deliberate movements, lifted the spoon to your lips.

Alicent nearly wept in relief as you began to eat, her heart lightening for the first time in what felt like ages. Helaena, true to her word, continued in her calm, melodic voice, speaking to you as you slowly finished your meal.

"Most jewel beetles are active during the day," Helaena explained, her tone soothing, "and they spend the night nestled beneath leaves or in the bark of trees. Their shimmering colors help them attract mates, especially under the bright sunlight, which makes their beauty shine even more..."

Alicent stepped back, her gaze lingering on you as the weight on her chest finally began to lift.

You found solace in Helaena’s presence, though at times her words felt like riddles, their meaning drifting past you like the wind. Still, there was something calming about her company, something soft and soothing in the way she moved and spoke. Her visits had become the brightest part of your days, a welcome distraction from the deep sorrow that still gripped you.

The ache of being separated from your mother, weighed heavy on your heart. You missed her fiercely, and the news of your father's death had only deepened that sadness. But when Helaena was near, for just a little while, the burden lightened. Her quiet, gentle presence helped you forget, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Today, the two of you sat in the warm light of your solar. Helaena perched on the chaise, her hands busy with her embroidery, weaving delicate patterns into the fabric with practiced ease. You, content with your own thoughts, sat nearby with parchment spread before you, sketching the insects Helaena had shown you in previous days. The jewel beetle, with its shimmering emerald wings, was your favorite to draw.

As your hand moved across the parchment, your mind began to drift. Your thoughts slipped away from the beetles and the quiet peace of the moment, wandering back to the last time you had seen Aemond. You could still see the hurt etched on his face, the way his expression had crumpled when you yelled at him in your grief. Your words had been sharp, and though part of you still clung to the anger, another part felt something different. Guilt. Regret.

You had missed him—more than you wanted to admit. Since you were a babe, it had always been you and Aemond, bound by blood and by the shared weight of the Targaryen legacy. You had thought that, no matter what, it would always be the two of you against the world. But then he had claimed Vhagar.

Everything had changed after that. He had left you behind, the only one of your kin without a dragon. And more than that, he had spoken cruelly, lashing out at your brothers and cousins with venom you had never seen in him before. His words had cut deeper than any sword.

But now, as you sat in silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had overreacted. Yes, Aemond had been harsh, and yes, he had taken Vhagar without thinking how it would make you feel. But could one misstep, one painful choice, truly undo the bond you had shared for so long? Was your friendship, your connection as kin, so fragile that it could be shattered by a single moment of anger?

You paused, the charcoal in your hand hovering over the parchment as you considered. You missed him. Truly. And perhaps, deep down, you wondered if he missed you too.

"I do not wish to marry Aegon."

You looked up in surprise, her words catching you off guard. The castle had been alive with preparation — maids sewing new gowns, cooks laboring over feasts, and courtiers whispering about the upcoming union. You knew it was common among your kin for Targaryens to wed each other, like your great-grandparents, King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, who were siblings. But still, the thought of Helaena marrying Aegon unsettled you, and now it seemed to trouble her too.

You knew why, of course. Your uncle Aegon was cruel, more interested in wine and women than anything else. He frightened you sometimes with the way he looked through people, as though they didn’t matter at all. You couldn’t imagine him as a kind husband.

"Why don’t you tell the Queen?" you asked, leaning forward on your seat, your eyes wide and hopeful. "Tell her you don’t want to marry him."

Helaena didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on her embroidery as her needle moved with careful precision. “Mother says it is our duty,” she murmured softly, almost as if speaking to herself. “To keep the blood pure. But... I don’t believe I shall be happy.”

The way her voice wavered made your heart tighten. Without thinking, you blurted out, “What if we leave?”

Helaena blinked, her head turning slowly toward you, confusion clear in her violet eyes. “Leave?” she repeated, her tone soft and bewildered. “I do not understand.”

“What if we just left?” you said again, more firmly this time, your words coming quicker now as the idea took shape in your mind. “We could fly away. Dreamfyre is strong. We could ride her across the Narrow Sea, go somewhere far away where no one could find us.”

For a moment, Helaena only stared at you, her needle paused in mid-air. “Niece...” she began, her tone hesitant, unsure.

“Yes!” You leaped to your feet, your excitement bubbling over as you grabbed her hands, your small fingers wrapping around her delicate, unmarked ones. Your hands were still smudged with charcoal. “We could see all the wonders of Essos — the great temples, the golden fields! We would eat cakes every day and never have to worry about anything.”

Helaena’s eyes softened, though a flicker of something uncertain lingered there. “And what of coin?” she asked after a pause, her voice gentle but cautious. “How would we live?”

You waved your hand dismissively, grinning. “We have a dragon, Aunt Helaena! We wouldn’t need anything else. Dreamfyre could take us wherever we wanted. No one could stop us.”

But Helaena’s gaze grew distant again, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We would be leaving our family behind,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Your smile faded as you sat back down beside her, your shoulders slumping slightly. Your mother had already left you behind when she sent you to King’s Landing. You had not seen her in months. Aemond… well, Aemond had Vhagar now. He didn’t need you anymore. He’d probably already forgotten about you.

“They don’t care about our happiness,” you said softly, trying to convince yourself as much as Helaena. “Why should we care about theirs?”

Helaena turned her face away, her expression distant, as if lost in her thoughts. Her lips moved slowly, forming words that you didn’t quite understand, though her tone was soft and strange, like a distant lullaby. “As shadows stretch and sky turns cold, fear within, like dusk, takes hold. Alone you stand, though hearts may yearn, in darkness waiting will light return."

You blinked, completely baffled by her words, but you simply shrugged and smiled brightly. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

Helaena’s head snapped back to you, her eyes widening in alarm. “Wait—”

“We’ll meet tonight at the Dragonpit!” you declared, bouncing up from your seat, your excitement renewed. “I’ll go pack my things!”

Before she could say another word, you were already running toward the door, your heart racing at the thought of your grand adventure. You didn’t hear Helaena call after you, nor did you see the torn, pained look that crossed her face as she watched you leave, uncertainty clouding her gaze.

Sneaking out of the Red Keep was, by far, the most reckless thing you had ever done in your ten years of life. Well, perhaps not the hardest, but it certainly felt like it as you plotted how to send Ser Rowan, your sworn shield, on a task that would occupy him long enough for your escape.

Stepping out of your chambers after so long, you saw Ser Rowan look at you with wide eyes, as though he had seen a ghost. It had been months since your return and you had not left your chambers since. your presence at such an hour clearly startled him.

“Ser Rowan,” you began, trying to keep your voice even, “could you fetch me some strawberry cakes from the kitchens, please?”

It was the middle of the night, and you knew full well that no one would be stirring in the kitchens at such an hour. Ser Rowan frowned at first, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Might it wait until morning, my princess? Surely—”

You interrupted with wide eyes and a slight pout, a trick you had learned from watching your mother use many times. Ser Rowan sighed, defeated.

“As you wish, my Princess,” he said with a small bow. “I shall return as swiftly as I can.”

As soon as he disappeared down the corridor, you darted back into your chambers. Your hands moved quickly, fastening a dark cloak over your nightgown, pulling on your boots, and securing a small satchel around your waist. Inside the satchel, you placed the few things you could not bear to leave behind—a few trinkets, a drawing of your family, and the little wooden dragon Aemond had carved for you.

Heart racing with excitement, you slipped out, careful to avoid the guards as you moved silently through the Keep. You kept close to the stone walls, where the shadows were deepest, and prayed no one would see your small figure darting from one corner to the next.

Somehow, by sheer luck or skill, you made it past the castle walls. You retraced your steps, recalling the times you had secretly followed your brothers, Jace and Luke, on their way to their dragon lessons. The path to the Dragonpit came to you as if you had walked it a hundred times before.

The pit was dark and silent, save for the occasional low rumble of a sleeping dragon. You knew you should have waited outside for Helaena, but your curiosity won out. The thrill of being here alone, surrounded by the presence of dragons, was too great to resist.

The deeper you ventured into the pit, the more your heart pounded with a mix of fear and awe. And there, before you, stood Dreamfyre, Helaena’s dragon. Even in the dim light, her blue scales shimmered like precious gems.

You gasped, startled, as Dreamfyre let out a heavy breath, a plume of smoke curling from her nostrils. The sudden movement made you cough, and Dreamfyre’s eyes flickered open. For a terrifying moment, the great beast stared at you with narrowed eyes.

You froze, holding your breath, certain that you had made a grave mistake. But after what felt like an eternity, Dreamfyre closed her eyes again, seemingly uninterested in you. Slowly, you let out a breath of relief, the tension easing from your shoulders.

You had not anticipated how long it would take for Helaena to arrive. The excitement of your escape began to fade, and the long wait in the cold of the Dragonpit made your eyelids heavy. Without thinking, you found yourself sitting against Dreamfyre’s rough, warm side. Her body heat was comforting, and before long, your head drooped, sleep threatening to take you.

Just as you were about to doze off, the sound of footsteps echoed through the pit. You jumped to your feet, hastily smoothing out your cloak and dress. Heart racing once more, you called out eagerly into the darkness.

“Helaena? Is that you?”

But the voice that responded was not hers.

“No, it’s me.”

A surge of confusion washed over you as Aemond stepped into view, a torch held high in his hand. The flickering light cast sharp shadows across his face, illuminating the scarred half hidden beneath his eyepatch. The sight of him, standing there with his frown and fierce gaze, made your heart drop. You hadn’t seen him since that terrible confrontation, you had not even noticed his injury. And now, seeing him like this, the guilt and confusion from that night flooded back.

You swallowed hard, your voice quivering as you asked, “Where is Helaena?”

“She’s back in the Red Keep, where you should be,” Aemond replied, his tone firm and commanding.

He hadn’t seen you in months, and though he felt relief to see you healthy and well, there was also a deep, gnawing hurt inside him. He had been shocked when Helaena told him of your plan to run away, and that pain twisted in his chest. You, his betrothed, were going to leave him behind so easily. And as much as he would have never admitted it aloud, if you had asked him to join you, he would have gone without hesitation.

Hurt flashed in your eyes, and your lip began to tremble. “Why isn’t she here?” you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

“She told me about your plan,” Aemond said quietly, his violet gaze never leaving you. “She sent me here to tell you that she has changed her mind.”

“No,” you shook your head fiercely, your voice cracking. “No, she wouldn’t do that.”

“She realized what you were doing was wrong,” Aemond said, stepping closer, his voice calm but stern. “The two of you have duties —”

"That's so easy for you to say," you snapped, your voice suddenly sharp and filled with anger. Neither of you noticed Dreamfyre’s eyes slowly opening at the sound of your raised voices. Tears welled up in your lilac eyes as you shouted, "You’re not the one being used as a broodmare! A mere vessel for heirs!"

Aemond flinched, pain crossing his face. He reached a hand out towards you, trying to soothe you. “Niece—”

But you stepped back, tears spilling down your cheeks as you slapped his hand away. Without another word, you turned and ran, your feet flying across the stone ground as Aemond’s voice echoed behind you.

But you didn’t stop. You ran through the Dragonpit, tears blurring your vision as you navigated the winding paths. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could hear Aemond’s footsteps behind you, but you pushed forward, taking every shortcut you knew to avoid him.

When you finally reached the Red Keep, your legs were aching, and your breaths came out in sharp gasps. You felt utterly betrayed, the sting of Helaena’s broken promise cutting deep. Your ribs ached as you hurried back to your chambers, your sobs the only sound in the cold, empty corridors.

Then, as you turned a corner, you collided with Ser Rowan, who had just returned, a tray of strawberry cakes in his hands. The tray clattered to the ground as he caught sight of your tear-streaked face, his eyes widening in alarm.

“Princess!” he exclaimed, dropping to one knee in front of you, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

But instead of answering, you flung yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and sobbing into his steel-clad shoulder. The weight of everything crashed over you—your mother’s abandonment, Aemond’s actions, and Helaena’s betrayal. It all felt too heavy to bear, and in that moment, Ser Rowan was the only one who hadn’t turned his back on you.

You clung to him, crying into his armor, while the castle around you remained cold and silent, just like the hearts of those you had once thought loved you.

So what do you think about that reader/rhaenyra parallel I snuck in?

“we could ride her across the narrow sea, go somewhere far away where no one could find us. we would eat cakes every day and never have to worry about anything.”

—reader

“i want to fly with you on dragon back, see the great wonders across the narrow sea, and eat only cake.”

—rhaenyra

TO BE CONTINUED...

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@evernores @jouryuu @dbd-mommy @g-cf2020 @sl-ut @radiantdanvers @sillysillygyalsmh @callsignwidow @missyviolet123 @thelastemzy @lechat-rouge @sonichkkaaascreams @djarinsstuff @yovrnewromantic @strawberymilktea

[hisui-dreamer]

trial romance

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

Synopsis: since you were going to be put in an arranged marriage anyways, you decided to let yourself experience a normal teenage romance first!

Tags: fluff, slow burn, rent-a-boyfriend mallesu, mutual pining nrc and sra are mixed schools, reader has an elder brother, reader is royalty

Word count: 2.7k+

Notes: woooh sorry for neglecting you mal mal :( i hope this fic makes up for it hehe

Masterlist

You've never really known love.

Born as the second child of a small, but affluent kingdom, you're not sure you have the right to complain. Each day dawns with the assurance of never experiencing hunger, attended to by countless devoted maids catering to your every whim. It's a life of opulence, one that stands in stark contrast to the struggles endured by those grappling with meager wages just to survive.

Still, there remains an ache within you, a yearning for a love that exists in the enchanting tales of old. A love so untainted that it remains steadfast in any circumstance, a love capable of cleansing away all your sorrows, becoming your very reason of existence.

But such a love seems as distant as the stars. After all, you're bound by the responsibilities as the second princess. Unlike your elder brother who inherits the throne, you are a mere pawn in the intricate game of politics, destined for an arranged marriage rather than a fufiling romance.

In a rare display of benevolence, your father granted you a fleeting taste of freedom, sending you off to live under a false identity at the renowned Royal Sword Academy on Sage Island. Three precious years, promising a respite from the constraints of duty, and you promised to seize each moment and savour the life of a normal person who yearned for love.

Which brings you back to the present moment.

"Jellyfish are such fascinating creatures, don't you think so dear?"

The man stands tall beside you, his golden locks catching the ambient blue glow within the aquarium, lending him an almost ethereal air. His emerald eyes fix upon you, awaiting your response.

You return his gaze, captivated by the way the light dances in his eyes. A soft smile graces your lips as you consider his question.

"They are indeed fascinating," you reply, your voice carrying a hint of admiration. "They move with such grace and fluidity, it's like they're dancing through the water."

He hums at your response, fix focus shifting back onto the creatures drifting in the display.

He's a peculiar man, no doubt. It's puzzling to fathom the sort of individual who would boldly advertise their boyfriend rental services on Magicam. Especially someone as strikingly handsome as he appears to be; you would have assumed he'd have no shortage of admirers or suitors.

But you suppose you're not really any better, the person who hired said rentable boyfriend.

Though you're a bit ashamed to admit, you harbor a certain discomfort when it comes to meeting new people. And with your identity as a merchant's daughter, you've had few interactions with your schoolmates, leaving you with a shortage of friends, let alone a romantic relationship.

It was in then that you stumbled upon his listing.

And now, here you are, on your first ever date, exploring an aquarium together.

"Do you mind telling me what dates you're free?" you ask casually as you stroll towards the tropical section, bathed in the vivid hues of exotic marine life.

He trails alongside you, his presence exuding an air of calmness. "Dates...?" he muses, his tone tinged with intrigue. "Ah, you wish to see me another time, I presume?"

You cast your gaze downwards, a hint of bashfulness coloring your cheeks. "Yes... I would like that."

He contemplates for a moment, a hint of concern crossing his features. "Hmm... My fees are quite high you see. Your finances may suffer if you spend too much time with me."

"Hmph. You don't have to be concerned. This money has nowhere else to go anyways," you scoff.

His gaze lingers on you with a hint of curiosity, before a gentle warmth softens his features as he nods. "Very well," he murmurs, his hand reaching out to envelop yours in a tender clasp. With a delicate gesture, he presses a fleeting kiss upon the back of your hand, his voice resonating with anticipation, "I look forward to seeing you more often, my dear."

Aquarium Date ✅

First Date ✅

"You seem quite troubled by this book. Is something the matter?" Mal asked, peering over the edge of his book, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He sat across from you, textbooks and notebooks scattered between you, each page turned with a quiet reverence. The library was bathed in a soft glow, the gentle hum of whispers filling the air like a comforting melody.

You glanced up from your own notes, running a hand through your hair in a gesture of resignation. "I have a test coming up for Magic Analysis, but I always get so overwhelmed with information I forget the details."

"Magic Analysis... Perhaps you're approaching it from the wrong angle," Mal suggested, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "What if we break it down into smaller, more manageable chunks? We could create a study plan together."

The idea sparked a glimmer of hope within you, the prospect of tackling the daunting material with a structured approach feeling suddenly within reach. "That... actually sounds like a good idea," you admitted, a tentative smile forming on your lips.

"Alright," Mal began, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. "Shall I give you a demonstration?"

There's something to his smile that worries you slightly.

Study Date ✅

The quaint café bustled with life, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sweet scent of pastries.

Mal's eyes sparkled curiously as he scanned the menu, his fingers tracing the various options with keen interest. "This place is quite charming," he remarked.

You smiled, a flutter of warmth blooming in your chest at his appreciation. "I'm glad you like it. I heard it's one of the best spots in town. Have you decided what to order?"

His brows furrow lightly. "I'm not sure... They all look quite enticing..."

"How about a parfait then? You can choose different flavours of ice cream too," you suggested, gesturing to the other page.

Malleus's gaze followed your gesture, his eyes alight with anticipation. "Ice cream, you say? That sounds delightful," he replied, a spark of childlike excitement dancing in his expression.

You couldn't help but mirror that smile.

Cute Cafe Date ✅

The night stretched out before you like an endless canvas, painted with a myriad of twinkling stars scattered across the indigo sky. Cradled in the comforting embrace of a soft blanket spread out on the grass, you lay your head gently upon Mal's shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath as you gaze upwards.

"It's breathtaking..." you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquil stillness of the night.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining in a silent gesture of affection. "The sight never fails to captivate me," he responds, his voice tinged with awe. "I'm often reminded of how quickly time passes when I stargaze."

Lifting your head slightly, you steal a glimpse of his face, illuminated by the ethereal glow of the night sky. "Ah... Fae are known for their longevity, aren't they?" you remark, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of his blonde hair behind his pointed ears. "Is that part of the reason why you became a rentable boyfriend?"

He smiles ruefully. "Partly so," he admits. "My mentor suggested it as a means of broadening my perspective and gaining new experiences.

A giggle escapes your lips. What's with that? To think you're doing this for educational purposes..." you tease, though the chill of reality briefly brushes against your thoughts. "I hope you've at least had fun?"

"Absolutely." He envelops both of your hands in his own, his gaze unwaveringly earnest as it locks onto yours. "My dear, I've thoroughly enjoyed every second spent with you,"

A blush tinges your cheeks at his sincerity, and you respond softly, "It's the same for me. I had so much fun when I was with you,"

You find yourself ensnared by the ethereal presence of the man before you, his proximity stirring a flurry of emotions within you. His face, mere inches from your own, is illuminated by the soft glow of the twinkling stars, their light mirrored in the depths of his serene emerald eyes. Your heart quickens its pace, thumping so loudly in your chest that it threatens to drown out his next words.

"...Can I kiss you?"

You feel yourself nod slightly.

He tentatively closes the distance between you, his movements deliberate yet achingly tender. His hand, warm and reassuring, cups your cheek, his touch sending shivers of electricity dancing across your skin. The scent of night blossoms and distant pine trees fills your senses, mingling with the heady anticipation swirling in the air.

The kiss is tender at first, a tentative exploration of each other, as if testing the waters of this newfound intimacy. But soon, a surge of desire courses through you, fueling the passion that blooms between you. You lose yourself in the moment, surrendering to the intoxicating whirlwind of emotions that sweeps you away, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed by him.

The sequence of events that followed remains a hazy blur in your memory, the details shrouded in a fog of uncertainty. All you recall with clarity is Mal's familiar presence beside you as he walked you back to the imposing gates of your school hand-in-hand, just as he'd always done.

Just like clockwork, you retrieved a thick envelope from the depths of your bag, its contents weighing heavily on your mind. "Hold this," you instructed quietly.

He stared curiously at your actions. With a practiced fluidity, you extracted a handful of bills from your wallet.. With unwavering composure, you extended the money towards him, your tone devoid of sentimentality. "This is the bonus for kissing," pressing the bills into his palm.

Leaning forward on tiptoes, you planted a chaste farewell kiss upon his cheek, the gesture a stark contrast to the emotionless exchange that had just transpired. "See you next time," you murmured, before turning away.

Each clack of your heels against the pavement resonated within him like a mournful toll, echoing the hollowness that had taken root in his chest. He watched, transfixed, as the last sliver of your silhouette dissolved into the far distance, the bittersweet echoes of your footsteps fading into the twilight.

Dark, menacing clouds stretched ominously across the vast expanse of the sky, casting an eerie pall over the landscape below. Before you realised it, raindrops cascaded from the heavens in a frensied blur.

Stargazing Date✅

First Kiss ✅

The evening air was cool as he led you through the labyrinthine streets of the old city, the cobblestones whispering tales of centuries past beneath your feet. Towering above you, ancient buildings adorned with weathered stone facades loomed like silent sentinels guarding the secrets of bygone eras.

"This way," he beckoned, his voice tinged with excitement as he pulled you along into a narrow alleyway veiled in shadows.

With eager steps, you followed his lead, anticipation coursing through your veins as you delved deeper into the heart of the historic district.

"You know," you mused, breaking the silence as you walked, "when I said you could choose our next date, I never imagined it would involve a trip to the City of Flowers. Have you been here before?"

"I have," he answered. "I was invited here once. There was a magnificent festival here, but I was more interested in the gargoyles."

"The... gargoyles?" you echoed, casting an intrigued glance at the statues that adorned the buildings around you. "There do seem to be quite a few of them."

"They've watched over these buildings for centuries, warding off evil spirits and protecting those within."

"Really? That sounds fascinating," you murmured. "Would you mind telling me more?"

A smile graced his lips, his eyes gleaming with a unbridled glee. "Gladly," he agreed, his voice reverent. "Each one has a story to tell, waiting to be heard by those who seek to listen."

You listened intently as he recounted the legends surrounding these ancient sentinels, his words weaving a captivating narrative that transported you through time. As you continued your exploration of the historic buildings, he regaled you with tales of the city's storied past, his words painting vivid pictures of times long gone.

Somewhere along the line, night had descended like a comforting shroud, cloaking the city in a blanket of darkness. Now, you found yourselves strolling along the tranquil riverbank, the rhythmic lapping of the waves providing a soothing cadence to your thoughts.

Your three years of time is almost up.

Soon, you'd be back in the confines of your childhood room, the familiar walls suffocating with the promise of the same, predictable routine. Then, like a ship launched by an unforgiving wind, you'd be whisked away to wed the spouse your father had chosen, leaving behind your fleeting moments of freedom and the memories far away in your teenage years.

Mal glances sideways at you, noting the unusual quiet that had settled upon you like a shadow. "Is everything alright, my dear?" he inquires, his voice laced with concern.

You pause, grappling with the weight of your impending confession, searching for the right words to convey your thoughts. Finally, you draw in a deep breath, steeling yourself for the revelation to come.

"No... It's not," you confess, your voice faltering slightly as you let go of his hand. "Mal, this... this will be the last time I'm hiring you."

Confusion furrows his brow as he searches your eyes for clarity. "But... why?" he responds, a note of sadness creeping into his tone.

"Because..." you begin, your gaze drifting towards the glistening surface of the river, unable to withstand his earnest gaze. "Because I'm leaving Sage Island. I'll be graduating and returning home, and... and I won't require your services anymore."

"I... see."

A heavy silence descends between you, the weight of your confession hanging in the air like a tangible presence. And as you continued your stroll along the riverbank, the knowledge that this would be your final night together lingered like a bittersweet farewell to the memories you had shared.

His Choice Date ✅

Breakup ✅

You've never liked riding in carriages.

With each clop of the horses' hooves, the entire contraption lurched, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It was a waltz of unease, the sway and groan of leather and wood a discordant melody against the cobblestone streets.

The confines of the cramped cabin also felt suffocating, a gilded cage that further severed your connection to your freedom. But the carriage rolled on, carrying you not just through the mountainous terrain, but towards a future you desperately wished to outrun.

Malleus Draconia was your spouse-to-be.

Throughout your school days, whispers of the famed fae prince from Night Raven College echoed in the halls. Tales spun of his unmatched prowess in Spelldrive, where he emerged victorious alone against all teams, his formidable magical abilities casting a long shadow of fear over his opponents. His towering and menacing presence, coupled with the dark horns that crowned his head, only added to the mystique that surrounded him. You could only hope that beneath this formidable exterior lay a heart capable of kindness, granting you the chance for a peaceful existence.

Though, you wouldn't say you could forgive him for having such a similar name to Mal.

As the carriage comes to a halt, the sound of hooves and wheels ceases, accompanied by a palpable sense of anticipation. With the opening of the carriage door, your guards stand at attention, their expressions solemn yet resolute. "Your Highness, we have arrived," one of them announces, his voice carrying the weight of the moment.

With a deep breath, you gather your resolve, steeling yourself for the encounter that awaits beyond the carriage doors.

Just as your foot grazes the carriage step, a gloved hand extends towards you, reaching out towards you with a graceful assurance.. You glance up to meet the gaze of your betrothed, and for a moment, time seems to stand still.

His eyes are a familiar shade of emerald green. A shade that's grown to be your favourite, in fact.

"M-Mal?" you stammer, the name escaping your lips before you can stop it.

"It's lovely to see you again, my dear," he smiles, as radiant as the sun.

Masterlist

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[chelseasdagger]

Alone And Forsaken

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: After a close call with infected, you and Joel return to your safehouse and try to stay warm during a cold night

Warnings: smut (18+!), sex (unprotected), cockwarming, cursing, gun mention (briefly), smut with very little plot, Joel hasn’t cockwarmed in over twenty years

Author’s Note: This is my first Joel fic so I'm a little nervous but I love the idea of him cockwarming/having sex again after so long and he's desperate oops. Much thanks to @chellestrash for supporting me through this fic! Feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

Word Count: 5.2k

Joel mutters in his sleep. Most nights, it was whispers of his late daughter’s name; the sorrowful memory of that night replays in his mind even after twenty years. Other times it was restless grunts and warnings of clickers as he tossed and turned on the small mattress. It doesn’t matter whether you were in a somewhat protected military zone or in the uncertain darkness that lies outside of those sanctioned areas. When the sun sets and the anxiety dies down just enough to finally slip into unconsciousness, you’d hear the distressed mumbling beside you that made your chest grow tight all over again.

The two of you have just returned home—or, whatever you could call the four walls that were miraculously still standing. It was more of an improvised safehouse while you traveled beyond the patrolled Fedra walls to make your drop offs. The house was small but dependable, especially once Joel had gone and fortified the decaying wood that was barricading the doors and windows shut. Perhaps you could consider it safe in comparison to the rubble and debris surrounding it, not to mention the absolute luck that there were no cordyceps in the immediate area.

Smuggling isn’t exactly your favorite job when it comes to ways of earning supplies, but you suppose it’s better than the depressing things that Joel does for a few ration cards. He’s the one who got you into helping him after showing you just how good the payoff was and, if you’re honest with yourself, you enjoy the time alone with him. He isn't easy to read and his rough voice comes across harsh to others but the longer you’re around him, you begin to pick up on his true intentions behind his sometimes cold front.

Your name rings through your ears, pulling you to the present and away from your abandoned train of thought. It sounds nice to hear Joel speak it, despite his deep, rough shout. You quickly stand and make your way over to the wooden bookcase that’s lying diagonally over the back door to the house. Planting your feet on the ground, you push it so that it’s standing upright again and twist the small lock on the doorknob.

You open the door and the sounds of the thunderstorm grow louder, a flash of lightning illuminating Joel’s silhouette. His back is facing you as he checks the surrounding area once more, gun in his hands as he slowly turns before entering the house.

“It’s clear,” he holsters his gun, “no signs of clickers or infected,” he sighs heavily, closing the door gently behind him. He steps past you and into the house, immediately moving furniture in search of cracks in the floorboards. He often forgot exactly where he left his supplies due to the different safe houses you two frequent on the smuggling route. You watch as he knocks the toe of his boot into an area of the wood underneath the dusty rug. The sound is hollow and he immediately kneels to the ground to start removing the slotted wood.

“You’re sure?” you ask uncertainly, your voice a whisper in the otherwise quiet room. It was rare that you questioned him, but your fear got the better of you. The way he freezes with the floorboard piece still in his hand has you worried you overstepped, and you hurry to explain.

“I-I don’t mean to—it’s just that, well, I wanted to be absolutely certain,” your words come out faster once he looks over his shoulder. He stares up at you, glancing over your features while resting his hand on his knee. You pull your lip between your teeth, nervously thinking of his potential reaction to your words.

Your expression gives your anxiety away and he sighs gently, his eyes scanning over your face. His own features soften and you watch his shoulders begin to slouch before he’s standing up and silently walking towards you.

“Tonight was too close and I’m…” he trails off, his eyes focusing on something behind you, his mind going elsewhere. After a moment he looks to your scared face again and continues, “I’m sorry I made the wrong call.”

Joel hangs his head in defeat and you wish you could take away the guilt he feels. The rain patters gently on the roof but you still hear his frustrated exhale over the noise. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, scratching at the grey hair brushing his skin there. After clearing his throat, he continues, his southern accent wound around his words.

“I thought it was clear I… If I hadn’t gotten there—”

“But you did,” you cut him off before his mind has time to spiral. Joel always takes responsibility for every mission no matter the importance. There’s been times in the past where he thinks back on what went wrong and makes a mental note of how to improve next time, but not without holding some resentment for his flawed actions. You know tonight was more serious, what with the clicker’s gnashing teeth nearly grazing your neck, and you wanted to try and spare Joel some of the self loathing.

A shiver suddenly works its way down the back of your neck. The icy touch runs along your spine and spreads throughout your body, causing you to shake slightly. He watches your involuntary movement and looks down at your hands that are balled around the cuff of the wet jacket you’re wearing.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of those clothes,” he speaks up again before turning away. His wet footsteps echo out on the wooden floor as he steps towards his backpack. You wind your arms around yourself as he slings his bag over his shoulder, walking back to you and leading you to one of the unused rooms down the hall.

The both of you typically would stay in the main space of the house, with access to windows and a kitchen within close distance. But in moments where some privacy was needed, you’d have the extra rooms of the house to change or get some time alone. He entered the small bedroom first, quickly scanning it with his flashlight. Once deciding it was clear, he gives you a small nod before dropping his bag, leaving the room, and pulling the door shut behind him.

Crouching down to his bag, you open it and find two thick flannels folded at the bottom beneath the few cans of food and extra boxes of ammo. Discarding your wet jacket and soaked shirt underneath, you pick up a dry one from his bag and hold it in front of you. You think of the last time Joel wore this one and how the blue plaid pattern brought out the tan in his skin.

Slipping your arms through the sleeves, you pull the material closer to your body. It’s a lot softer than most of the shirts around nowadays, most likely the material being worn down by all the years Joel has been wearing it. There’s a small tear under the arm on your right side but other than that it’s in great condition.

You untwist the collar of the shirt as you make the fabric sit smoothly against your neck. Your fingers move down the lapels of the flannel and you pause for a second before raising it to your face. The collar smells so deeply of him and you shut your eyes as you inhale his scent.

His heavy footsteps sound out through the house and you hear them from the other side of the paper thin walls, pulling you from your thoughts. You quickly straighten the edges of the shirt before slipping the black buttons through their holes and making your way back to the living room.

Joel is back in his position on the worn couch. His back is straight as a board, a physical display of his alertness. He’s squinting his eyes as he peers between the slotted wood boarding up the windows, watching the outside area nearby. You’d often find him like this, making mental notes of the surrounding environments or how many exits a building had. It makes you feel safe, but you wish there was a world where he didn’t feel the need to do that instinctively.

You notice he’s wearing only his denim button up now, having ditched the soaked jacket. The heavy bookshelf is back in place as well, blocking the only entrance to the house that isn’t boarded up. Your eyes fall to the ground and notice there’s no makeshift alarm. Checking the other door in the living room, you notice it’s clear of any liter as well.

“No glass?” you ask quietly, stepping deeper into the room. Joel turns at the sound of your voice, watching from his spot on the torn couch cushion.

“Just clickers and infected for the next few miles. If we don't make a fire, we can’t draw people in. So yeah,” he’s cut off by his groan as he places his hands on his knees to stand up, “no glass.” 

“Right…” you trail off, trying to ignore the excitement in your chest as he steps towards you. “So no fire tonight? That’s going to be a little rough,” you let out a bitter chuckle.

The weather had been unkind as of late and it was taking a toll on you. Joel saw the shakes your body gave under the unforgiving wind, despite him lending you extra jackets to wear under a thick winter coat you happened across. The past few nights in particular he had been burning low fires as you two were in the woods; he assured you the tree line helped disguise the smoke. But you know the risk of shedding light near open streets, even if you desperately wanted the heat anyway.

“Well, ‘m sorry,” Joel begins, his hands working their way to their usual spot on his hips. “We can’t—“

“We can’t run the risk, I know,” you sigh heavily, finishing his sentence for him. “I just wish there wasn’t a risk—“

The sudden crash of thunder catches you by surprise, making you jump away from him. Distant sounds of clicker screeching fills the air next and you don’t have enough time to fix your confident facade that slips. Joel notices it, and he sees the fear in your eyes despite the smile you flash at him and the dismissive laugh that follows.

“Jesus, you’d think I’d get used to that by now,” you chuckle, folding your arms across your chest. He sees through the act you’re putting on and sighs quietly. Wordlessly, he takes another step towards you, closing the distance and pulling you into him.

His body is warm and his strong arms feel gentle as he embraces you. This was a first between the two of you, even the smallest moments of intimacy being somewhat of a struggle for him. He’s never said it aloud but you’ve picked up on the signs after months and months of knowing him. The one thing you never do, however, is force him to open up to you. Not even after hearing his broken whispers as he recalled the events he’s had to witness.

You don’t realize how much you need his touch until he’s giving it to you, and now you don’t want to go without it. His arms around you feel like they’re holding you together enough that you can allow yourself to relax completely. It’s the first time in, well forever, that you feel like something else is barring the weight for you. And you can’t help yourself from unwinding in his hold.

You let yourself sink into his chest, your head resting below his collarbone as you inhale shakily. His heartbeat sounds out rhythmically into your ear and its predictable, repetitive pattern soothes you instantly. Slowly but surely, you’re able to bring in deeper breaths of air as your hands grab at his large back tightly. Everything else in the room fades as you squeeze your eyes shut—everything except for him.

A few moments pass and Joel begins to loosen his hold on you. His hands leave your back and begin to pull away, but you don’t let go. It must’ve dawn on him that you needed him more than he realized, because he goes back to holding you after clearing his throat gently.

You don’t want to push his boundaries or make him uncomfortable, so you bring in two big breaths of air before untangling yourself from him. He stares down at you, his eyes scanning both of yours quickly, and you feel as though you could melt under his gaze. Your feelings for him had always been there, but after that display of affection? You know you’re wrapped around his finger now.

Joel looks as though he’s about to say something; his lips part as his eyebrows pull together, but you speak before he can.

“So…” you trail off as you swing your arms awkwardly. You don’t have anything else to add; your fear of what he might say overpowered any ideas you had before you opened your mouth. His eyes fall to your hands, which are still moving, and you become painfully aware of how odd you’re acting.

“So!” you wind your arms around your chest, “What’re we thinking? Living room or one of the beds?” you ask with a joking laugh. The confusion on Joel’s face is plainly there in his rough features, but thankfully he drops it. He clears his throat once again before nodding his head towards the hallway you left just a moment ago.

“Figured we’d use the beds, since they’re there. Those sleeping bags have been killing my back,” he rasps out as he places his palm over his lower spine. He shakes his head gently, almost as if he’s reliving the pain of the sore muscles the next morning. When he glances back up at you he lets out a small chuckle, muttering, “‘M gettin’ too old for that.”

The fact that he chooses to laugh off the awkward moment has your heart tightening in your chest and a genuine smile finds its way back to your face again.

It takes only a few minutes for you and Joel to move your bags and other supplies into the new room. He doesn’t bring up the extra seconds of comfort you relished in, or the slightly embarrassing aftermath of the moment—which you’re immensely thankful for.

The mattress is, unsurprisingly, stiff and you swear you can feel the springs each time you move to get comfortable. It’s silent other than the shuffling of your clothing and Joel’s quiet breathing. Your back is facing him but you can faintly feel the warmth radiating from his body. You want more than anything to pull him closer, to spare you both from the drafty walls of this old house, but you aren’t sure you can muster up the courage.

The minutes slip by as the rain patters gently on the glass of the windows. The storm is finally settling down now and you catch the shadows of the rain through the glass; the image is projected on the wall as the droplets roll down. It’s times like these where the world seems so peaceful, you almost forget about the threats of this new world.

“Are you asleep?” your whisper cuts through the silence like a knife. There’s a pause, and for half a second you think he might’ve drifted off.

“‘M too cold to sleep,” his raspy voice sounds out, and you can’t help the chuckle that falls from your mouth.

“Yeah… yeah me too,” you admit to him. The silence that falls after you speak feels thick, and you’re once again regretting your choice of words. 

You do though find comfort in his presence. Having him close makes you feel safe, but it does nothing to help the chittering of your teeth. You let out a long sigh as you rub your hands over your arms, attempting to use the friction to warm up.

“Do, uh… Do you want me to help?” he speaks up out of the darkness.

“How?” you ask with sincerity. There’s only one thing you could think of that could fix this situation at all, and you doubt he’d do it.

“I don’t…,” he trails off, trying to rack his brain for an answer. “‘M not sure. We can’t have the fire—,” he begins to explain, but you cut him off.

“No, I know, Joel, it’s okay,” you sigh. There’s a long pause after you speak and you just wish he would get the hint already. As the seconds pass the shiver in your bones grows tiring, and you finally cave in.

“C-could you… hold me?” And again you’re met with silence. Joel doesn’t say anything and you clammer to explain. “Just, y’know, it’d be warmer if you… We’d share heat that way.”

He lets out a deep grunt and you can’t help but worry that he’s hating the idea. You feel paralyzed, too scared to check over your shoulder to see his reaction. The pulsing grows in your chest and you fear you’ve overstepped again.

Joel’s arm lightly curls around your waist, and you nearly flinch from the contact. Your entire side lights up and you inhale shakily, his touch feels burning hot as it spreads through your body. The next thing you feel is his chest pressing into your back, his scent filling in the air around you.

You bite down on your lip, determined to not spoil the moment with your clumsy words. You’ve never been this close with him before, despite your crush that’s developed over the months. He’s so much warmer than you could’ve ever pictured all of those nights under the fire, longing to be in this exact situation.

Joel moves his hand down to hold your lower stomach instead but you feel his arm tense up. He begins to speak but cuts himself off, opting to move his hand back to its original place. It’s slightly reassuring to see him acting stiffly as well. It reminds you that you’re not alone in the newness of it all.

“Is that… Does this feel alright?” he mumbles, uncertainty clear in his voice.

“It’s good. It’s uh, it’s warm,” you chuckle lightly, moving your palm to cover the back of his hand, “thank you.” Your fingers wrap around the bruises on his busted knuckles. He doesn’t say anything else, but he nestles his fingers between your ribs and the mattress.

You try your best to focus on his body and not on the cold, but your brain has other ideas. Each rise and fall of his chest has him pushing against you and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your shoulder. Every second that passes makes your awareness of him worse and worse.

A shiver runs its course through your body again, a sign of the chill still deep in your bones. He doesn’t mention it but wraps his arms tighter anyway. The close grip does nothing but make you crave more of him. An idea pops into your head suddenly, and you don’t give yourself a chance to second guess it and back out. You push your ass back into his crotch and his hand immediately leaves your ribs, trying to stop you from doing it again.

“Don’t,” he grunts behind clenched teeth. His fingers dig into your hip tightly and your breath catches in your throat. He’s never sounded this rough with you but the rasp in chest makes you grow hotter between your thighs.

“C’mon, Joel,” you nearly whine, “it’s so cold.” You roll your hips back again, pushing yourself against his bulge once more. His grip on you tightens and you immediately stop.

“That’s a bad idea,” he whispers gravely. The air around the words ghost over your neck and goosebumps start decorating your skin. The gruff tone of his voice does nothing but add fuel to the fire in your lower stomach and you press your thighs together to try and get some relief.

“We don’t have to—not, not all the way, I mean.” You sigh defeatedly, knowing you’ve probably ruined your chance at sparking more than a friendship between the two of you. Each bout of silence feels worse than the last, but this time you feel like if you speak at all you’ll destroy everything. 

A weary sigh comes from behind your shoulder, the breath blowing your hair lightly. You swallow thickly as you feel his hand move and hear his belt buckle sound out a second later.

“Shit,” he mumbles, and the sound of denim shifting grows louder. His jeans are kicked off and tossed onto the floor as he presses his lower half against you again. You can’t believe it’s actually happening, that he’s truly considering this.

“Are you sure about this? We don’t have to do this, any of it, if you don’t want it,” the words leaving his mouth are barely audible. You finally turn your head over your shoulder to look him in the eyes, nodding gently before whispering, “Please.”

He swallows heavily and glances down between the two of you. You follow his gaze and see his cock, still mostly soft, and you reach down to hold him. The groan doesn’t quite leave his chest as you wrap your fingers around him, gently pumping him in your hand twice before lining him up with your entrance.

Joel slowly guides his hips to follow your movements, pushing inside of you. Even when he’s soft you can feel the decent size he is, and as the seconds pass, you feel him grow bigger inside of you. He doesn’t speak during it, but you hear the way he’s breathing through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, I can’t help—,” he cuts himself off as his fingernails dig deeper into your side. You’re not sure how much bigger he’ll get, but you’re beginning to feel the stretch of his thickness. Feeling him slowly fill you from the inside is a sensation you’re not used to, but you let out a pleased hum from how much warmer you are.

His cock continues to get harder and his fingers let go of you just to grab you tight again. It’s almost as if he feels guilty for his body’s natural reaction, but he can’t fight it either. You feel him give a faint twitch and you clench around him instinctively. His forehead presses against your shoulder as he sighs loudly, his now swollen tip pressing into your lower stomach.

“I don’t think either of us will fall asleep like this,” you speak up in the silence. He’s hard and heavy inside of you and you can feel each vein along his cock. He groans again before pushing himself up, changing positions so he’s on top of you. He doesn’t pull out, however, and now that he’s moved he’s somehow slipped even deeper inside of you.  

He’s staring down at where you two are connected as he pants lightly, still trying to get used to the new feeling. You reach out for his cheek, cupping his face in your palm as your thumb drags along his bottom lip. His desperate eyes search for yours in the dark and you notice the shaky breath he lets out. His fingers curl around your wrist gently as he squeezes his eyes shut. He looks as if he’s in pain, but the twitching you feel inside of you tells you otherwise.

“It’s okay, Joel. You can move,” you instruct him, pulling his lip down. Those words snap something inside of him and he plunges forward, kissing you deeply. Your heart races in your chest as he begins to move forward, pressing himself deeper inside of you. His tongue glides along yours and you moan into his mouth before he breaks the kiss.

He glances back down to where he’s buried inside of you and you watch how he takes it all in. You can hear the sounds of your slick each time he pushes in, the noise so loud in the otherwise quiet room. His hips rock forward torturously slow but pull back before he can bottom out; you can’t help the frown on your face as he does it repeatedly.

“Joel, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you…” you’re not sure how to finish the sentence, but thankfully he understands. His groans fall from the back of his throat as he sits back on his calves, stilling inside of you.

“I haven’t—it’s been so long,” they’re the only words he can think of to explain. It clicks for you then that the reason he’s being so hesitant must be because of how it feels for him. You can’t help the fond smile you flash at him before reaching for his neck to pull him back to you. His lips are soft as he kisses you back and you let your hand fall from his neck to cup his jaw again. You brush your thumb along his cheek, feeling the scratchy beard tickling your palm.

He rocks his hips inside of you faster now but still, he doesn’t go as deep as he can. You try telling him it’s okay, coaxing him with little praises, but he still holds himself back. You can feel yourself craving more and an idea pops into your head.

You wrap your legs around his sides, crossing your ankles and dig the heel of your foot into his lower back. You pull him down onto you as close as you can and he lets out a shuddering moan. Rubbing your hands over his broad shoulders, you give him time to adjust to the feeling of his entire length inside of you.

Joel sniffles after a moment and you feel his hips buck into you. The head of his cock nudges that part deep in your stomach where the pleasure nearly hurts because of how full of him you are. You clench around him and he lets out a strangled cry, letting his face fall into your neck.

His lips suck on the sensitive skin below your jaw, grazing his teeth along you before biting gently. He continues to rut inside of you, never pulling back, not wanting to leave your warmth. He licks over your skin as he soothes the mark he just left on you before unbuttoning your shirt, his hand cupping your breast. The wet stripe on your neck grows cold as the air hits it and you let out a moan of his name.

“Oh, Christ,” he curses quietly, squeezing your chest under his palm. The reflection of the rain on glass illuminates his face now as he stares at you. You watch as the droplets roll down his cheeks; they glide over the lines and scars decorating his face that tell a thousand tales. He bites down on his bottom lip and you catch the way his throat tightens, the veins tensing, like he’s trying to stay quiet.

“It’s okay, Joel. I wanna hear you,” you whisper as if it’s meant for just him to hear. He looks into your eyes as his own are filled with uncertainty. Nodding your head, you watch as his composure slowly breaks down and you finally hear the guttural groan that comes from his chest.

His moans fall freely now, as if your words were permission for him to express himself. Every sound that escapes his lips turns you on even more now that you hear just how good he’s feeling. His hand drops from your chest as his fingers glide down your stomach, lighting a fire on your skin as they move. He reaches for the underside of your thigh and he pushes your knee up to your chest. With the new angle his cock pushes impossibly deeper and you gasp, your fingers tugging on the silver strands at the back of his head.

“You feel…” he groans, dragging his hips back until just his head is inside of you. “You feel so fucking good,” he chokes out before thrusting again. His fingers move to your clit, rubbing your slick over where you’re most sensitive and his touch has you clenching around him.

“Oh, fuck, Joel!” you cry out as you buck your hips, squirming under his touch. Hearing his name falling out of a broken moan, his hips stutter forward and the tempo he sets begins to falter. You feel the heat quickly growing deep in your stomach and you know neither of you will last much longer.

“C-C’mon, honey, I need you,” he grunts out louder, his southern accent coming out thicker as he rubs his thumb over your clit faster. His opposite hand squeezes your hip tightly and you feel as though he might bruise the skin from how tight he’s holding you. Your voice shakes through your whimpers as he moves faster, your body bouncing underneath his hard thrusts.

Joel thrusts inside one last time before stilling, his cock twitching as he comes. The warmth filling you while he lets out a growl of your name is the last thing you need to push you over the edge. You clench around him repeatedly, drawing out his own orgasm as you two fall apart in each other’s embrace.

He doesn’t move after that, only hides his face into your neck again as he nuzzles his nose along your collarbone. His lips cover the markings he left just minutes ago, tending to them with gentle kisses. Neither of you say anything as you let your bodies relax into one another and it’s the most relief you’ve felt in months.

Your hands find their way to his broad back, rubbing over his shoulders absentmindedly while you listen to the rain lightly patter on the roof. His weight presses into you still as he lies on top of you, the feeling grounding you as you notice the kisses have stopped for a few minutes.

Looking down at your shoulder, you see his face is completely peaceful. The regular furrow of his eyebrows is smoothed out and the nearly permanent frown has left his face. All those worried lines have disappeared now and there’s not a single mutter disturbing his sleep.

You’ve never seen him this calm and you feel an overwhelming sense of pride that you were able to give him this—the first night where he doesn’t force himself to stay awake despite his heavy eyes, or wake up in a sweat from awful nightmares.

You decide right then and there that you want to give him this one perfect night. Slowly slipping out from underneath Joel, careful not to wake him, you pick your clothes up off of the floor and dress yourself. You grab your bag and weapons before kneeling beside the mattress on the floor. Running your fingers through his hair, you press a kiss to his temple before making your way out of the room.

With one last look over your shoulder at his sleeping face, you pull the door shut silently. You take watch that night, sitting in the living room until the sun rises between the gaps in the boarded up windows, giving him one night of peace.

[dominadespina]

THE SORROWS OF MILICA NEMANJIC OF SERBIA

Though often remembered for her diplomacy and regency (1389-1393), one thing some sources and historians fail to mention about Princess Milica is her struggles with motherhood and widowhood, even through her politics.

Early Life

Milica was born sometime in 1335 as the daughter of Duke Vratko, known in Kosovo legends as Jug Bogdan, a descendant of the Nemanjić dynasty; however, the identity of her mother is unknown.

In her early years, Milica would often stay at the court of her cousins, Tsar Dušan and Tsaritsa Jelena. The couple took a liking to her, sponsored her stay at court, and provided her education, thus she permanently settled at court.

It is at the same court where she had the opportunity to meet Lazar Hrebeljanović, six years her senior and, at the time, a young man of lower nobility working as a puter/stavilac.

According to a legend, Milica met Lazar at the same place where she would later build the Ljubostinja Monastery.

There could be some truth to this tale, but it is worth noting that they were likely introduced at court by the same couple who planned for them to marry.

Marriage to Lazar

Sometime in 1353, Milica and Lazar were married by the wish of Dušan and Jelena and with the blessing of her father. The mere fact that the imperial couple arranged their betrothal suggests that Lazar was a well-respected man enough to join the Nemanjić dynasty by kinship.

Though the marriage was for political purposes, as it elevated Lazar’s status and reputation, it is understood through Milica’s poem that they had grown to hold deep affection and value for each other.

Through her poem “To My Widow, O Bridegroom,” it can be understood that Milica viewed Lazar as someone she desired, admired, and found comfort and protection in.

It is worth mentioning that Milica was one of the many reasons Lazar (r. 1365-1389) was able to elevate himself to the title of Prince (Knez) and expand his realm. While his rivals claimed the rest of Serbia due to their Nemanjić ancestry, Lazar, who was not one of their own, likely had to rely on his wife and children’s claim to the “holy” dynasty to gain the trust of the Serbian people.

Throughout their 36-year-long marriage, the couple welcomed eight children, five daughters and three sons, though only seven made it to adulthood.

Mara Lazarević (b. 1355 - d. 1426)

Dragana Lazarević (b. sometime after 1355 and before 1364, d. sometime after 1396)

Jelena Lazarević (b. 1364/1365 - d. 1443)

Teodora Lazarević (b. after 1365 and before 1371, d. after 1396 and before 1405)

Olivera Lazarević (b. 1372/1373 - d. after 1444)

Stefan Lazarević (b. 1377 - d. 1427)

Vuk Lazarević (b. 1380 - d. 1410)

Dobrovoj Lazarević (died in infancy)

It seems that the couple enjoyed a harmonious and faithful marriage, as there are no mentions of a mistress or illegitimate children that Lazar could have fathered.

Her Widowhood and Regency

Following the defeat at the Battle of Kosovo in the summer of 1389, Lazar was ordered to be beheaded, leaving behind a venerable realm and his wife at the forefront.

Since his son and heir was too young to be entrusted with the duty of ruling, the Principality of Serbia fell into the hands of the Dowager Princess, Milica.

Though it is possible that Milica might have been educated in diplomacy, she certainly did not have any first-hand experience up until that point. Her primary duties as the wife of a prominent ruler were to expand the dynasty by child-bearing, oversee her children’s education, manage the royal court’s income and expenses, and participate in charities such as hospitals and monasteries—duties in which Milica, as a dutiful mother and consort, excelled.

Constantine the Philosopher described her in the following words: “…pious lady, worthy of glory and wise mother, who surpassed many chosen mothers."

At first, Milica, a fearful mother and mourning widow, wasn’t much interested in staying in Serbia and planned to take temporary refuge with Olivera, Stefan, and Vuk, her youngest children, in Dubvronik, this is evident by a document in which the Senate offered her and her children hospitality.

Unfortunately, her plans had to be annulled as the Hungarians advanced their conquest in the north of Serbia and the Ottomans to the south of it. Thus, her final decision was to stay, and sometime between November and December of that same year, she accepted vassalage to the Ottomans despite the reluctance of many Serbian lords, including her son-in-law, Vuk Branković (through Mara), a decision that would cost the Branković family their lands.

The vassalage included loyalty, taxes in the form of soldiers, and lastly, her youngest daughter, Olivera, to be the wife of the Sultan. All requirements were met, as by the spring of 1390, her daughter was married to the Sultan.

Milica continued to rule over Serbia for three more years, until her eldest son Stefan reached adulthood in 1393. That year, she became a nun under the name "Eugenia," yet she continued to advise her son behind the scenes, as evidenced by her diplomatic mission with her cousin and lady-courtier, Jefimija, to Sultan Bayezid in the spring of 1398 when he suspected Stefan of treason.

The issue was soon resolved, and Stefan was forgiven.

Her Motherly Sorrows Though things seemed to be going quietly from 1398 onward, the peace came to an end in 1402, following the Battle of Ankara.

While her beloved son, Stefan, was able to elevate himself to the title of Despot in Constantinople, her son Vuk, wishing for more territory to rule over, revolted against his brother. Additionally, her daughter Olivera and her granddaughters fell into Timurid captivity.

Milica’s daughter Mara, along with her respective children, developed a vendetta against the Lazarević family, whom they blamed for Vuk Branković’s death.

All these stresses likely prompted her to write her poem “To My Widow, O Bridegroom,” dedicated to her husband, Lazar, in 1402. Amid all the motherly worries and family vendettas, it seems that the memory of her deceased husband was what she found comfort in.

Later Life

When the Ottoman civil war broke out between Bayezid’s sons, Vuk and Stefan found themselves on opposite sides of the conflict, supporting different Ottoman rulers.

Milica was able to reconcile her sons; however, after her death, their bloody feud reappeared.

Milica passed away on November 11, 1405, at the age of seventy and was laid to rest in the Ljubostinja Monastery.

Perhaps in her final days, she was at ease since her daughter Olivera was released, and her sons “ended” their vendetta. However, it seems, based on what happened soon after her death, that they only did so for the sake of their mother.

Legacy

Milica has left her mark on Serbian history, being declared a saint in the Eastern Orthodox Church. Today, many statues, church venerations, and streets are named after her.

Poem of Milica to Her Husband

Who is this?   Speak into my ears.   Is this the one I desired before,   my adornment, the gathering for my scattered children?   Is this the one whom out of envy   the enemies sought to destroy   and keep the light of my sight   in dark dungeons,   and they could not?   Is this the one to my widow, O Bridegroom?   Come, O Bridegroom, come,   and repay those who do me wrong   according to their deeds,   for they did not understand your coming   to my aid.   Take up the weapon and rise, and do not delay!   Strike with sharpened arrows into their hearts,   those who have sharpened them against me, the lawless.   I do not tolerate the mockery of those against me.   With how many vile sacrifices have they defiled me!   Come, avenge me with your blood.   Come, be my support in my downfall.   Gather my scattered children,   whom envy the devil   has torn from me.   Gather them into my fold,   tend to my children,   that the wolf may not eat from my flock,   that envy may not scatter them,   as before, when I was not with them.   Do not let them sleep around you.   Do not let your legs weaken.   Tend to my flock, which I entrusted to you.   Drive away from them the lawless barbarians.   Do not cease to fight with them   for me and my flock.   Rejoice, my eye   that never sleeps, O Lazar.   And again I ascend to the first.   Lazar, who surpasses all stars with his shining,   Lazar, appropriator to foreigners,   preacher of the Trinity,   liberator of the captured.   Lazar, the unwavering pillar of the church,   healer to the sick, clothing to the naked,   Lazar, strong duke to the innocents   and savior.   Rejoice, O Lazar   apostolic, I sing to you,   and again I say: rejoice.   Rejoice, lily that has   sprouted from thorns,   unconquerable weapon for soldiers.   Rejoice, teacher to the hermits.   Rejoice, Lazar, to those who sail,   steersman and calm harbor.   Rejoice, avenger of the oppressed   and denouncer of the deceitful.   Rejoice, comforter of those who weep,   and defender of the poor, and clothing to the naked.   Rejoice, strength of beauty,   and sustainer of widows.   Blessed indeed are you, O Lazar,   bless me who blesses you.   There is no praise that you are not worthy of,   but the mind grows weary...

(Sources: Dve srpske sultanije : Olivera Lazarevic (1373-1444) : Mara Brankovic (1418-1487) by Giljen, Nikola)

[rekino2114]

Since you wanted Halloween posts: Can you please do taking Fami trick-or-treating? I assume she'd be in it for the free food and put on the most basic costume imaginable to save energy. May sincerely go as a bedsheet ghost unless you already have one picked out and insist she wears it instead. Thanks!

You and fami going trick-or-treating

Halloween post #10

Happy Halloween!!! 🎃 👻🎉

Pairing:fami x gn reader

Summary:you knew fami loved food more than anything (except for you) so you made it a point to try to hide the existence of Halloween from her so she wouldn't get envious of the kids.......you were very right about that.

A/n:Happy Halloween, everyone! Thanks for reading my posts and all the requests. I hope you enjoyed the event, I personally loved writing it and have already planned something similar for Christmas. There's a bit of a reference to my daughter nayuta au cause I love it, and I'm actually working on part 3 now

"Why did you buy so much candy?"

Those were the words you dreaded hearing your girlfriend say with her emotionless voice

You were unsure if fami knew about the concept of Halloween, being a devil and all, so just to be safe, you tried not to mention anything about it in fear that she would feel entitled to the candies and maybe even drag you trick-or-treating.

"I mean, I appreciate you buying more food for me, but I'd like a little more variety, I'm still not complaining though"

"O-oh those.......aren't for you"

"Of course, they're for you too, we already went over this, I'll always share my food with you, especially if it's yours in the first place"

"No, I meant they're for neither of us. You can't eat any of them"

Fami looked disappointed, or at least as disappointed as she could look keeping the same face she always had

".......then who are they for?"

"I wanted to give them to the kids"

"..........why? Their parents can get them candies"

"...w-well they're probably gonna come here and ask us"

"Why?"

You knew lying to fami would have been useless since she could read people very well, especially you, so you just sighed and told her the truth, preparing for whatever was about to happen

"I see, Halloween is when kids dress up and ask for candies to random houses, ah, i think Yoshida mentioned something about this a few days ago"

"Yeah, so you can't eat the candy, sorry"

"..............it's fine"

"Oh I'm glad you understand"

"It's nothing.........so what are you dressing up as?"

"Hm?"

"I suppose it's fine if you don't want to wear anything too"

"........fami we're not going trick-or-treating"

"Why?"

"We're high schoolers. Only kids go trick-or-treating. Everyone will look at us weird"

"I don't care what humans think of me, as long as I get the candies they can look at me however they want"

"......and what will you dress up as anyway? I didn't prepare any costumes"

"Can't I just go as myself? I'm a devil, after all, an horseman nonetheless, that's quite scary in my opinion"

"No one knows that. You just look like a normal human woman"

"So they won't give me candies?"

"Yeah, most likely"

".......I see"

Fami got up and went into another room. You thought she was going to grab something to eat to ease her sorrows so you didn't pay too much attention to it and began using your phone

"Y/n, what do you think?"

"About wha-"

When you raised your head, you were met with a bed sheet ghost, or well fami with a sheet on her, only the eyes were cut out, but that was enough to make you recognize her...along with her legs.

"I searched for some easy Halloween costumes, and this was the first that came up, what do you think?"

"OK, I'll admit that the glowing eyes are kinda creepy, but you're so tall the sheet doesn't even cover you completely"

"It's still a costume"

"So?"

"I'm still gonna go"

"I......*sighs* Fine, I guess, if you really want to go, I'm not going to stop you, I'm not wearing anything, though. "

You could feel the happiness in her voice, something only you could do, as she thanked you and grabbed the basket before walking outside and letting you follow her

You went around the neighborhood trick-or-treating, well actually only she was, and to your surprise actually got a lot of candies, you don't know if it was because people were scared of her or because they were just nice but fami didn't care what it was as long as they gave her sweets, you even saw fami's niece trick-or-treating with her parents and said hi to her.

After finishing, you returned home, and fami took the sheet off of her, just throwing it to the floor and sat down to start eating her candies

You sat down too and started using your phone again. You were interrupted when you felt something tapping you in the face, you looked up to see the famine devil holding your favorite candy

"Take it"

"Oh thanks, how did you know I liked it?"

"I see you always take that one for yourself when we go shopping, so I assumed it was your favorite"

".....wow you remembered that?"

"Of course, i remember all your favorite foods......mostly because so I know not to eat them"

"Thanks, that's a lot coming from you"

"It's really nothing, now take this, I want to continue eating"

You took the candy from fami's hand, and she kissed your cheek before coming back to her chair and resuming eating. You ate the candy too and smiled at her

"Hey, next year I think I'll dress up too"

Your girlfriend raided her head to look at you, and the ghost of a smile appeared on her face

"Thanks, that sounds really fun, I can't wait"

[oldwritingm]

HII POOKIEE!! I wanted to request something for ninjago if that was okay with you😋

Basically hc's about all of the main ninja having a rocky relationship with the reader who is their little sister. They have a rocky relationship bc of things that happen in the past (like family issues that they blame each other for ya feel me?) and it leads to them having arguments in the present. Sometimes it gets so bad they have full on arguments where they yell at each other and blame each other for that specific event in the past(and for some scenarios the fighting gets so intense the other ninja have to break them up😋.) In the end however they reflect on the past and apologize to one other and that's the starting step of fixing their relationship as siblings. (also you can choose if you want kai and nya to be in the same scenario or different ones whatever is easier for you🤍🤍)

Hopefully that made sense I'm so sorry if it didn't!! Anyways have a nice day/night pookie and remember to drink water.🤍🤍

Of course lovebug!! You sweet thing,,,,

This turned out pretty long, so settle in campers

Ninjago - Elemental Masters' Rocky Relationship with Their Little Sister

Zane

(you're the adoptive daughter of Dr. Julien)

You were human. He was a robot. Issues were bound to arise

Ever since you were young, you always competed for Dr. Julien's attention

Though it was never spoken, you both felt that you were his real kid, and your sibling was not

You saw it as a huge win when Zane's memory switch was flipped and he was cast out of your lives

You stayed with Dr. Julien, finally feeling like his real child

But as the years passed, you found yourself missing Zane more and more

When you reunited, it was the happiest day of all of your lives

The three of you cried and hugged more than you'd ever done before or since

For a while it was perfect... too perfect

You didn't compete for Dr. Julien's attention anymore, but you didn't exactly talk it out either

When Dr. Julien died, the problems sprang back

In your grief, both of you took it out on each other

"You were always his favorite! All those years, you know what he talked about? 'Zane, Zane, Zane!' It made me sick! And where were you?! Not there! Not with us!"

"You think I wanted to go away? Do you even know the pain I went through? You wouldn't understand; you're a human. And all the while you were living happily ever after with him!"

It was off-putting for the others, seeing Zane so angry so often

They hated seeing him like this, so they devised a plan

One night, you were told to head to the TV room to watch a movie

It was dark when you entered, and someone locked the door behind you

The lights turned on, and Zane was on the couch

You were both shocked to see each other

He had been told the same thing as you

But you both had been duped! :O

Before you could bark anything at him, and before he could spit anything at you, the TV turned on

One of Dr. Julien's videos he filmed when you were both young started playing

He was laughing, trying to hold the camera still as you tugged on his arm

"I wanna tell Zane I love him too!"

"Hold on, Y/n, I've only just pressed the record button... Hahaha, okay, okay, you win! Here."

"Zane, I looooveee youuu!! Even though you're made of metal, you're still my brother and, and, and I don't want another one, even if he's human."

When the tape cut, you both glanced over at each other

Your eyes were filled with sorrow, your former hostility forgotten

You got to talking about your childhood, especially your memories with Dr. Julien

The talk ended with you two hugging tightly, not saying anything more

There was so much more to discuss, but you both knew that this was a good start to fixing what you once had

Cole

Growing up, you were both begrudging dancers

You bonded over sore feet and hating dance competitions, and you were thick as thieves

But as the years went by, you saw Cole's contempt shine through more and more

When he said he was going away to an art school to continue to study dance, you knew he was lying

It made you angry that he wasn't as devoted to dancing as you were

Sure, you didn't really like it either, but it's what you were raised on

Besides, it made your father so happy to see his kids dancing on a stage

Didn't he see it? Why would he just walk away from dancing? He didn't hate it any more than you did, and he was far from talentless

Letters from Cole were few and far between, and you felt a pang of rage whenever your father would read them aloud at dinner

Here you were, working your bones to dust to become the skilled dancer your father wanted you to be, while he was out there doing lord knows what

AND he was lying about it; that was what really got you

You started sending letters back in secret, berating him harshly for lying and interrogating him about what he was really up to

He ignored your letters, but started slipping snide comments into the ones he sent to your father

He must have known that they would be read aloud to you

You returned the snarkyness tenfold in your letters, and things only escalated as years passed

When he finally took the time to visit home, your blood was absolutely BOILING

He was so obviously lying about everything! Why didn't your father see it sooner?

You both put on friendly faces in front of him, but when you were alone the tension culminated

You exploded at him about abandoning you and your family's legacy

He exploded at you about being so cold to him for doing what you didn't have the courage to do

"You think I want to dance? No! But do you see me running off with some weirdos, punching and kicking other weirdos? No!"

"You're just mad because I'm happy now! Or is being dad's perfect little ballerina really just so satisfying for you?"

The argument ended abruptly when you burst into tears

He was right, and you hated it

He softened when he saw you crying; he knew that, all these years, you were really just taking out your fears and frustrations on him

But that didn't excuse your behavior, nor did it excuse the way he reflected your aggression right back

Gritting his teeth and huffing, he put out a hand for you to take

"I'm... sorry."

You looked at him, surprised

Seeing him made you remember how close you used to be

You wanted that again. You wanted him to show you how to be happy like he was

"Me too. It wasn't right, what I did to you. Can we start over?"

"I can't forget what you did. But I can forgive you. I think."

It would take time, but it would happen. That's all you really wanted.

Kai and Nya

You felt left behind

At first, when Kai started training to be a ninja, you still had Nya to share your woes

But then she started getting secretive

You noticed the muscles in her arms becoming toned; more toned than they should've been from basic mechanic work

You knew something was up, and your suspicions were proven right when you discovered that Nya was a samurai

You still bonded over not being taken seriously as fighters, but you could feel the gap between you widening

When she became the water ninja, you never felt more alone

Years of having to hang back on every mission, being used as leverage by villains, never being seen as more than a damsel in distress... and now you had no one to confide in

It made you so bitter

Your sweet, youthful innocence that made you the adored little sister figure of the group dissolved

You were touchy and guarded, especially when it came to Nya and Kai

Mainly you channeled your anger into passive-aggressive comments, but you also provoked your siblings quite often, which earned you the same treatment you were giving them

"Oh my--- Kai, can you actually shut up? I'm trying to read!"

"I'm literally training! What do you want me to do? Just put your stupid book down and go do something useful. Oh, wait, you can't!"

The others would often have to step in to defend Kai and Nya from your constant verbal attacks, and vice-versa

One night, the three of you were alone on the Bounty

A particularly volatile argument ensued

You let it slip that you felt weak powerless compared to them, and that it pained you to see them running off kicking butt together while you had to hang back

They were both floored by this

Nya ran over to hug you right away

"Y/n... I remember how that felt. I can't believe I didn't think of you when I went off to become the water ninja."

Though Kai couldn't relate, he recognized that you had been alienated

He joined the hug

"I know I haven't always been as close with you as Nya... I want to fix that. I want to fix this."

"Really..? Then... can you train me? So I can come along on missions with you guys?"

"Are you kidding? Let's head to the dojo right now!"

You all knew you'd still have to deal with being less powerful than your elemental master siblings, but at least you wouldn't feel as powerless as you've been all these years

Lloyd

You were the children of the dark lord, of course you hated each other

It was just part of what you both thought was your "evil" nature

But when Lloyd went off to Darkley's, you were alone

You decided to run away with aspirations of starting your own evil gang

But, being so young, you obviously failed

You actually ended up in the care of your estranged mother, who showed you the light

You turned away from your evil past and instead joined Misako on her archaeological adventures

Imagine your surprise when you reunited with Lloyd all those years later when Wu needed Misako's assistance

You'd think that, with both of you no longer being evil, that you'd get along now

Nope

For some reason, you still couldn't find it in your hearts to be nice to one another

It was second nature to treat each other like garbage

You argued, pulled pranks, provoked each other, sabotaged each other, destroyed each other's things... the list went on

The other ninjas were wary of your relationship

They were wondering if this was within the realm of "normal" sibling rivalry

Their final cue that it was not normal was when it continued after Lloyd drank the tomorrow's tea

He acted mature and level-headed towards everyone and everything except you

They knew that this was a real problem; how could Lloyd be expected to defeat Garmadon when he couldn't even try to be nice to his little sister?

They staged an intervention, which Lloyd was surprisingly receptive to

He didn't like it, but he knew he had to try to cultivate a better relationship with you

So, he stopped antagonizing you (as much as he could manage)

You noticed, and somehow you felt compelled to do the same

You could never completely abandon your old ways, but deep down you both knew it was for the better

Neither of you wanted to keep this up forever, so you might as well stop now

By the time the final battle was on the horizon, you managed your first ever remotely pleasant interaction:

"Hey Lloyd... don't die. Please."

"Same to you. Stay safe."

Jay

You always hated Jay, and he always hated you

Your earliest memory was literally him trying to steal your toy, and you throwing it in his eye

You had no explanation for this, only a burning rage that never seemed far from your mind, especially when Jay was around

It certainly didn't help that you two were practically joined at the hip your whole lives

This, too, you had no explanation for

You just always followed each other

When he went off to be a ninja, you went off too

You didn't regret it one bit, especially when you befriended Nya

She taught you so many things, and you became a skilled mechanic with her guidance

But one thing you didn't like about Nya was how she always pointed out the similarities between you and your brother

"Huh. Jay taps his fingers in the same pattern when he's bored, too."

"What? Tch, he must be copying me."

You were livid when Jay started showing an interest in Nya

You were convinced that he was trying to steal her from you just to spite you

Unfortunately, this resulted in Nya frequently being caught in the middle of your arguments (literally)

"Nya wants to finish her project with me!"

"No, she wants to watch a movie with me!"

It was Nya's hardheaded nature that diffused these arguments

"I don't want to hang out with either of you if you're going to be so immature."

She kept to this promise; from that moment, she completely ignored the both of you

This drove you closer to one another

You both knew that you'd have to stop your constant arguing if either of you ever wanted to talk to Nya again

"Look, I don't want to be ignored forever any more than you do. So, I guess we can start with... I don't know, why do you hate me, Y/n?"

"Because... I... I... I don't know. Why do you hate me, Jay?"

"... I don't know."

"So all these years we've antagonized each other-"

"For no reason??"

"That's so stupid!"

"You're stupid! ...Sorry, that was a reflex."

"No, you're right. It looks like we're both idiots."

It would take a long time to forget habits literally tracing back to your births, but you would both try your hardest

Sorry this turned out pretty long ^^" hope you enjoyed anyway! Thanks for reading this far,, and thank you anon for your request!

(divider by saradika)

[oosleepyfaeoo]

His Little Dragon

A. Targaryen x Child!Reader

Summary: You gave him happiness but a what cost?

Warnings: a lot of angst, death, prepare to cry

Words: 1k

A/n: English is not my first language.

Masterlist

I got inspiration writing this because of this song sooo I'm gonna leave it here for you guys listening while reading.

The harsh wind ran past Aemond's slim figure. His pale skin was numb from the cold gust mixed with small drops of rain constantly flowing down his body. His tears blended with the rain. 

Vhagar stood a few meters away from her rider, groaning in sorrow as she senses his emotions. Behind him was his sister and mother. Both of them cried silently while hugging each other.  

Your joyful laugh still echoes through his head, and your mischievous smile still burned in his eye. Your soft floral scent still lingers in his nose.  

Walking forward, Aemond puts your favorite toy beside your fragile little body. Wrapped in soft white cloth. 

“Kepa jorrāelagon ao sīr olvie, ñuha zaldrītsos.” He whispers as he kisses your head. (Father loves you so much, My little Dragon.) 

/// 

You were his pride and joy. His little flame. 

The first time he saw you, you were fighting with a boy much bigger than you. Kicking his legs to make him kneel and get some bread from his hands. Desperately shoving a piece into your small mouth.  

Smiling softly, he walks toward you. Throwing some coins to the boy to make him leave, Aemond crouches down and offers his waterskin to you.  

Frowning, you eyed him carefully. Suspicious of his intentions. But you were so thirsty that you couldn’t care less if he would slap you, kidnap you or kill you.  

Drinking greedily, Aemond examines you closely. Seeing the miserable state of your dress, all dirty and full of holes. Your little legs were full of scratches and bruises as well your arms. But what caught his attention while he was visiting the Flea Bottom streets, was your long silver hair.  

You had the blood of the dragon in you, that Aemond was sure. But who was your father? The first person coming to his head was his pig of a brother. Aegon.  

You must be his.  

“What’s your name, child?” He asks gently.  

You give his waterskin back, empty now. “I-I don’t h-have o-o-one.” you stuttered. 

Aemond hums. “Do you know how old you are?”  

A proud smile appears on your round face. “I-I’m fi-five!” you said while thrusting your tiny hand to him, showing all your five fingers. 

Offering his large hand to you, Aemond smiles gently at you. “Would you like to see the Castle?”  

Nodding eagerly, you let him take you away from that miserable place.  

Since that day, you were his little dragon. His sweet daughter. He named you Y/n, relishing your sweet smile as you repeat your new name over and over again. 

His mother wasn’t happy with his action, afraid of what people would think of this mysterious silver-haired child. But her worries quickly disappeared as she observes you and Aemond interact, acting like you two knew each other all your lives. Never had she seen her son so happy before. 

Helaena was thrilled to have you in her family, playing with you and her children in the gardens while teaching you everything about bugs.  

Aegon didn’t even notice you, choosing to drown all his problems in wine and whores. Which was for the best since Aemond didn’t want him near you. 

You and Aemond would spend hours and hours in the library. He would teach you to read and write, ignoring Septon's pleas. Saying that he didn’t trust anyone else than himself to be your teacher. 

To Aemond's surprise, you were a quick learner. But you had an issue, you have a speech problem. Which made it difficult for you to make friends. Children would laugh and make cruel jokes about your speech every time you tried to communicate with them.

That would lead you to spend all your time with your adoptive father. You were his little shadow. Whenever he was, you weren’t far. 

Aemond took you to meet Vhagar one morning, laughing softly as he sees the look of awe on your chubby face.  

Your bravery also surprised him. You carefully ran to Vhagar, the big dragon lowering her head to your level, so you could pet her snout gently. Giggles left your mouth as you feel her warm breath tickle your face.  

You two would ride through the clear skies on Vhagar’s back all day. Aemond promise you that he would take you to travel through the seven kingdoms, showing you all the world's wonders.  

That night, while he was reading you a bedtime story. You grab his hand and make him look down at you.  

“W-Will I ever ha-ha-have a dragon, K-kepa?” You timidly asked. 

Aemond closes the book and put it away. He smiles down at you, putting a silver lock behind your small ear.  

“Of course you will, my sweet daughter.” He kisses your head and pulls the blankets up, keeping you protected from the cold night. “When you grow up, you will claim your dragon. Like I did... And then, we will fly together side by side.” 

Little did he know that he could not keep his promise. 

Winter has come and the Stranger walked through Westeros. Collecting lives from Lords, Ladies, Septons, servants, and especially... yours. 

One cloudy morning, Aemond runs through your chamber’s doors. The room is full of maids, working quickly around the room while Maester stood beside your bed. Where you laid there, pale as a ghost.  

The Maester tried everything to bring your fever down. Gave you every potion he could think of it, put you in a cold bath, and gave you a special tea from Free Cities which was said to be the cure for all illness. But nothing worked.  

You only got worse every day.   

“K-Kepa...” You whimper, a grim smile on your face. "It h-hurts..."

Aemond sits beside your limp form, cupping your face gently. Your skin was hot to the touch, but you shivered like you were in the middle of a snowstorm.  

“It’s okay, little dragon...” He says with a teary smile. “Kepa is here... You will be alright...”  

But that was a lie. 

Two days later you died. The city bells rang for days as the King’s Landing folk mourn their Princess’s death.  

On that day, Aemond also died. His soul becomes empty and joyless, the only feeling he felt the most being hatred.  

Hatred for the illness that killed. Hatred for the Maester for not being able to cure you. Hatred for the Stranger that took you from him. Hatred for himself for not being able to protect you like he promised he would... 

/// 

“My Prince... It is time.” Septon's voice brought him back, his lilac gaze focus on your frail form laying on the wooden pit. 

“See you soon, my little dragon.” He whispers, tears running down freely on his face. 

Take a step back, his eye never leaving your wrapped figure. You were with the Gods now and soon he will join you.  

Biting back a cry, he took a deep breath and finally let you rest in piece. 

“...Dracarys...” 

Are you crying yet? >.>

Tag list: @cryptid-l0ver @saelwen @saelwen-shy-elf @papichulo120627

[sadly-never-after]

Music in the EAH Universe and who listens to them Part 6.

This is just an excuse to try to make music puns and share music I think the characters would listen to. (Some of these are even canon by the books!) I don't even like a majority of these musicians but I am fully convinced of my choices here. I marked in colours the one that are canonically part of the EAH Universe.

Since Tumblr only allows 100 inline links for a post I have to make different parts.

Part 1 (Alistair, Apple, Ashlynn, Blondie, Briar, Bunny)

Part 2 (Cupid, Cedar, Cerise, Chase, Courtly, Daring)

Part 3 (Darling, Dexter, Duchess, Farrah, Faybelle, Ginger)

Part 4 (Holly, Hopper, Humphrey, Hunter, Jillian, Justine)

Part 5 (Kitty, Lizzie, Maddie, Meeshell, Melody, Nina)

Part 6 (Poppy, Ramona, Raven, Rosabella, Sparrow, Tucker)

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ Poppy O'Hair (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈☁︎‎‎‧₊˚

Mayhem! in the Ballroom (Emperor's New Clothes, Victorious, She Had The World)

Lady Yaga (Born this way, Alejandro, Bad Romance)

Katy Fairy (Firework, Part of Me, Roar)

April Vineyard (Girlfriend, Sk8er Boi (if you guys listen to the entire song instead of only the first verses you'll understand), I Fell In Love With The Devil)

Truelove (Raspberry, Tongue Tied, Schoolboy)

·:¨༺ ♱🐺♱ ༻¨:· Ramona Badwolf ·:¨༺ ♱🐺♱ ༻¨:·

Rabbit Hole (Jennifer's Body, Credit In The Straight World, Northern Star)

Corset Suffocation (Feels Blind, Rebel Girl, Alien She)

Incandescence (Bring Me To Life, Everybody's Fool, Sweet Sacrifice)

Fall Out Book (Centuries, I Don't Care, Fake Out)

Writtin Park (Bleed It Out, Burning in the Skies, Runaway)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽🔮☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Raven Queen ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽🔮☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Taylor Quick (Anti-Hero, Enchanted, You're On Your Own Kid)

Royale (Royals, 400 Lux, Ladder Song)

Lady Yaga (Bloody Mary, Monster, Government Hooker)

I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY CURSED ME (Mad IQs, New Invention, Absinthe)

Spellannah Joffe (Die Your Daughter, Nobody Wants Me Tonight, My Dog Died)

༉‧₊˚🕯️🥀❀༉‧₊˚. Rosabella Beauty ༉‧₊˚🕯️🥀❀༉‧₊˚.

Penelorepe Scott (Rät, Dead girls, American Healthcare)

Bob Dalan-a-Dale (Blowin' in the wind, The Times They Are A-Changing, A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall)

Joan Bard (We Shall Overcome, Diamonds & Rust, Girl of Constant Sorrow)

Mirra Simone (Sinnerman, Mississippi Goddam, Revolution)

Sam Book (A Change is gonna come, Mean Old World, Jesus gave me water)

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆♪ °˖➴જ⁀➴ Sparrow Hood 🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆♪ °˖➴જ⁀➴

Knight Chloe (Too Close, Hooves, Michelle)

Black Rebel Carriage Club (Beat the Devil's Tattoo, American X, Weapon of Choice)

Wolf Killer Kids (Hang Me Up To Dry, First, Robbers)

The Legacy Keys (Lonely Boy, Weight of love, Little Black Submarines)

Prince Ferdinand (Take Me Out, Love Illumination, Lazy Boy)

Wands N' Roses (Paradise City, Sympathy for the devil, Sweet Child O' Mine)

He gets an extra one because the Knight Chloe ones are all very shippy.

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Tucker ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Giantz (Feel Good Inc., Kids With Guns, Momentary Bliss)

The Spells (Little Girl, Is This It?, The Adults Are Talking)

The Legacy Keys (Fever, Go, Psychotic Girl)

Black Rebel Carriage Club (Red Eyes And Tears, Going Under, Restless Sinner)

Prince Ferdinand (The Dark of the Matinee, Curious, Billy Goodbye)

You are trapped on an eight-hour long road trip with these guys and you have to give one of them the aux chord.

[ataraxiaspainting]

May I please request Yandere Machi, Pakunoda, and Shizuku? (separate)

Here's the scenario: They haven't seen their s/o in a decade, ever since they got put in prison. The rest of Troupe managed to break them out, and they go on the search for their s/o.

However, they encounter their son/daughter—who was eight the last time they saw them—now an adult and full-pledged hunter. Their child tells them that they'll defeat them and put them back into prison in the name of justice, which is sad because before they were captured and put into prison, they used to be very close.

Yan Machi + Yan Shizuku + Yan Pakunoda / Having a Hunter Child.

Warnings: The reader uses she/her pronouns respectfully, implied dub-con, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, and threats/mentions of violence.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

Machi

Eyes the color of a cloudless sky meet those dissimilar to them yet all too familiar at the same time for as many reasons as there are stars during the time of midnight. The young man’s eyes share the same hue as yours, yet have the same type of glare Machi used to always use on you to keep you in line, to prevent you from doing anything stupid. 

“Komacine. I shall strike you down if it is the last thing I ever do.”

Machi is not scared, just disappointed, in both her son and you. 

“Oh?” But she is also happy because, for the first time in nearly ten years, she can see the image of her son and you, both within her grasp where you both belong. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

Her words made the young man’s sword be held up even higher, but she was still not afraid.

“I shall, Spider, that is a promise.” But deep within those eyes, there is regret and sorrow, Machi thinks.

“Is that any way to talk to your mother?”

Her son merely snarls like a wild animal, still having his weapon raised high. “You aren’t my mother. You’re just yet another piece of evidence of all the wrongs there are to be righted in this world.”

From the corner of her eye, Machi sees you wearing a pink apron through the window, seeming to be humming to something while peeling some potatoes, carrots, and onions. She would have made her way into your home by now, if your son hadn’t at that exact moment opened the front door, which had immediately set off his Nen detection.

“Am I not? You look just like the little boy I used to take to the playground all the time, all those years ago. The games we used to play, your favorite one being… hmm…” She put her thumb and pointer finger under her chin, pinching it lightly.

“That was then and this is now, Komacine. I will kill you for what you did, all the people you hurt and murdered in cold blood.” 

Choosing not to pay any clear attention to the threat, Machi simply thinks back to all the past moments, so bittersweet like her favorite tea blend.

“Ah… it was hide and seek, wasn’t it?” From the sound of silence, she knows she is right. “Shall we play that one now? …Would you like that?”

No answer is to be heard.

Shizuku

Shizuku turns her head to the side, confused. 

“Why are you attacking me?” Did she do something wrong? “Why do you think? I know you have a bad memory, but try to use that brain of yours, Spider. For your good.” This man looks familiar, but from where?

Then she realizes, as the moonlight shines on the tops of both of their heads, showing the eerily similar hues of ink black. She smiles, and the moonlight also shows how wide it is, much to the horror of the young man.

“Ah! You’re my son, all grown up! Gosh… the years have flown by, haven’t they?”

She chuckles as she reminisces about old times, full of sentimentality.

“We should have a game night, just like those times! Oh, to see your mother again as she plays with us… it would feel like a dream, wouldn’t it?” To see how you have matured too, just like your son, both from the inside and outside, is a sight that would make Shizuku’s heart burst with love. Even though you are all ten years older, she is sure that you are still as beautiful as ever.

It feels and sounds like a threat, but is it? Shizuku does not lie, and her threats are always nonexistent, anyway.

He prepares to run just in case it is and is real, though.

Pakunoda

In an instant, she gets closer than he can blink and puts a finger to his lips.

“Shush. Calm down, please. I love you both, and I always will.”

Little by little, the sword lowers, as small as the change is.

But she notices. She has always been observant, which only proves to be more amplified during her ten-year-long search for you.

“You’re a Spider, you hurt us, you hurt more than us. Why would I-” Another interruption.

“I missed you plenty, you know. You and your mother were the lights of my world all those years ago. You both still are. Did you miss me too? Either of you?” It is not an odd question, but without physical touch, it may as well be. Her Nen can only work when she has her hand or arm on someone, after all. However, even without using it, she can still detect when someone is lying. The slight quiver of the corner of the lips.

He can’t move. He can feel his soul sinking, far beneath the ground.

“No.” There is only one word, but the lie is still apparent.

“Shall we go in? We have a lot to discuss, your mother and I. We can also chat about old times if you want to.” She smiles as she walks up the steps, slowly with her hands raised. Her son lets her.

[woman-of-balnain]

Endzeitfragmente Masterlist (Alpha Rick Grimes x Omega Reader)

Regular Masterlist

Translation: ‘Endzeitfragmente’ literally translates to ‘End Time Fragments’ in German. Or, more poetically it can translate to ‘Fragments From the End of Time’.

Summary: This is my masterlist for my Rick/Reader a/b/o stories. They are all connected and inspired by the original series I wrote, titled ‘the Claim.’ I may write other stories in the trope that aren’t connected, but they will just be in my regular masterlist.  

Note: This collection of stories involves breeding kink and a significant age gap - don’t like, don’t read. Rick is 13 years older than the reader, with him being 37 and her being 24 when they first meet.

I haven’t given many descriptions of the Reader, aside from that she is female, wears traditionally feminine clothing and has hair long enough to tuck behind her ear.

The Reader is Hershel's eldest daughter, but you can also read it as you being his daughter through adoption or having a different mother to both Maggie and Beth. Basically meaning that you can read this with any physical description in mind. But the Reader is considered as 100% his daughter and the sister of Maggie and Beth in all the ways that matter.

Requests: If you have a particular idea for this pairing, feel free to request it!

Key:

😈 - Smutty Thoughts

🔥 - Strictly Foreplay or Not Really Full-Blown Smut

💦  - Smut

💥 - Arguing Between the Pairing

💔 - Angst

💕 - Fluff

❤️‍🩹 - Hurt/Comfort

The Claim

Summary: Despite everything that’s going on, despite the world going to shit, despite wanting to stay on Hershel’s good side, despite his marriage falling apart, despite the way he knows he’s broken… despite it all, Rick can’t fight how badly he wants you.

Set during late s2.

Part 1 - 😈

Part 2 - 🔥

Part 3 - 🔥

Part 4 - 🔥

Part 5 - 💦

-

Possession - 💦

Summary: After catching another alpha making unwanted advances on you, Rick makes the younger man watch as he claims you all over again, showing that you are indisputably his. 

Set during the early Alexandria days (s5).

A light sequel to ‘the Claim’ that can be read independently of it.

Read Here

-

Undone in Sorrow -  💔 + ❤️‍🩹

Summary: Finally coming face to face with Negan threatens the ties that bind your relationship with Rick together. After that first meeting, the two of you try to pick up the broken pieces of one another and become whole again.

Set from late s6 to between s8 and s9.

This series includes the Reader being pregnant, plus mentions of a past stillbirth. Please be aware of that before reading!

I have also decided to rewrite this story as I don’t like the way the pacing ended up going and I got new ideas as I was writing it. So feel free to skip this one and wait for the rewritten version 😅

Part 1 - 💔

Part 2 - 💔

Part 3 - 💥 💔

Part 4 - 💔

Part 5 - 💔

Part 6 - ❤️‍🩹 💦

Part 7 - 💔 ❤️‍🩹

Part 8 - 💔 ❤️‍🩹

Part 9 -  💦 ❤️‍🩹

Part 10 - 💔 ❤️‍🩹 💕

[devout-of-the-elder-scrolls]

Azura Quick Start Guide

A guide for beginning with Azura, intended to help you begin your practice, but not to serve as the only information you use.

Keep in mind most of this post is UPG versus just based on the fictional canon, based on my personal experiences with this entity. It may directly contrast fictional canon and the experiences of others.

AZURA

azure-ahh aka. Azurah prns. she domain. Moonshadow date. Hogithum, March 21st

Azura is a mostly benevolent Daedric Prince, herald of the Dawn and Dusk. She is a Mother of the Prophets, blessing humans with divinatory power, to help them help themselves – though at times, She does it for Her own reasons.

Azura protects all of Her children very strongly, wanting to soothe all of their pains and sorrows and griefs. She encourages growth and progress, facing oneself and coming out stronger for it.

Azura is very wise, and while She does not want Her children to suffer, Azura is not at all against letting Her children learn the hard way, or letting them go through hardship that will lead the way for a better tomorrow – Leaving Her to sometimes be called “cruel, but wise”. 

Within Dunmeri myth, Azura is one of the Three “Good Daedra”, being the “true way” for Dunmeri to worship and work. 

She is also the one who cursed the Chimer to become Dunmer, after they chose the gods of the ALMSIVI, the Tribunal Temple.

Within Khajiiti myth, Azurah is a core part of their passage into the afterlife, and knows the names of all Khajiit that live and will ever live – and as such is often the first step Khajiit take on their spiritual path.

Azura is a great Prince to start with, as She is calm, collected, and cares deeply about the happiness of followers. She is hard to slight, and is likely to forgive quickly with a proper apology.

🜚 terms of respect . . .

Term – Prince • Goddess • Deity

Prefix – Lady • Queen • Ma’am • Madam • Divine • Shining • Bright

Titles – Azura of the Crimson Gate • Queen of Dawn and Dusk • the Mother Soul • Moonshadow • Mother of the Rose • Queen of the Night Sky • Twilight Queen • the Rim of all Holes • the Cosmic Severer • She Who Sits at the Precipice • Favored Daughter of Fadomai

🜲 rulerships . . .

dusk • dawn • twilight • stars • transition • change • the cycle of the days • mystery • magic • fate • prophecy • vanity • egotism • beauty • roses • knowledge • guidance • astrology • death, esp the “good” things that come of it • mourning • soothing of physical pain • bringing peace

. . . HELPS WITH . . .

the craft and power of prophecy and premonition • understanding prophetic dreams • delivering prophetic dreams • the practice of divination • the art and knowledge of astrology

🝰 commandments . . . This part especially is bound to be different from person to person.

Know the Sun, Moons, Planets, and Stars. Learn astrology and learn it well. You needn’t be super good at it, just knowing of how astrology works.

Love oneself greatly.

Pursue your own self and self-love.

Accept prophetic visions. You can, and often will be asked to, change the prophecy. But you should never deny it.

Use your prophetic eyes to improve your life.

Know the true power of divination, and utilize it.

⛯ main tarot cards & other signs and associations . . .

Tarot Cards — 

II the High Priestess • IX the Hermit • XVII the Star • XVIII the Moon

IV of Cups • VII of Cups • X of Cups

Ace of Swords • VI of Swords • X of Swords

VIII of Pentacles • X of Pentacles

II of Wands • VII of Wands • X of Wands

Other Signs & Associations — 

moon and star symbols • falling tears in art

very vibrant colors

anise • rose • owl

❂ devotional acts . . .

regularly do divination

veil, esp if you cover the face. all veils count

keep a dream journal of dreams you feel have meaning, or conversely, all dreams you have if you want

keep a journal in general

wear Azura’s symbols

invite Azura to provide Her input / visions / etc during divination sessions, esp for meditative things

provide your prophetic and divinatory power to others

speak to Her when shuffling decks, esp if you’re inviting Her to the session

self care, and otherwise take care of yourself

cleanse your divination tools in Her name

dedicate a divination session to Azura

involve Her in the “awakening” of a new divination tool

vent out all of your feelings at Her shrine or in prayer to Her

stargaze

wake up at dawn to greet Her and do some divination

study western astrology

keep track of your horoscope (we suggest cafeastrology because it actually considers a lot of stuff)

meditate to a burning candle / melting wax

travel to beautiful places

soothe your overstimulation

uncover mysteries

perform magic with Her

try and find peace in yourself

work on changing into new things gracefully

do glamor magic

. . . offerings ❦

↘ natural ; 

colorful bouquets

anise

beech trees

bistort

buchu

willow trees

↘ foodstuff ; 

sugary foods and candies

fig

pomegranate

lettuce

starfruit

↘ items ; 

art with vibrant colors

azure colored things

newly obtained divination tools

lots of candles and wax melts

star and moon figurines

things related to the zodiac

↘ music ; 

melodic music

emotional songs

↘ etc ; 

emotional letters

blue candles

Note: Azura prefers devotional acts over offerings for the most part. She does love having Her playlist played during devotionals, though.

🜾 altar building . . .

This is all suggestions. Please build it however you can, if a physical altar is even possible.

As always, you can use offering items to build an altar.

by a window where the sun and moon rising can be seen

plenty of candle space

a moon symbol and a sun symbol

a space for a dream journal

🝊 identity . . .

Azura is a very understanding Daedric Prince, being much more lenient than others might be. She is caring and just, and wants the very best for all Her devout. She sees our hardships and feels empathy, sympathy, and compassion for what we endure. Even when She sends hardship our way, or when She must let us endure it to become better – She weeps for our pains and desires our soothing and happiness. 

She is very gentle, and takes upon a soft guide and guardian feel – Though like with all Daedroth, She can be very cruel and harsh should She feel it is necessary. 

Azura seeks to herald change and growth, providing knowledge and guidance all along the way. Unlike many others, Azura does not often use Her own hand to paint the new picture, but instead provides Her followers the tools and capabilities to create such better things.

Azura mostly appears as a Dunmer, a Dark Elf, or as a Chimer, a golden skinned elf, with long pale azure and/or pink hair (depends on the day), and bright golden eyes that shine within the darkness. She’s often dressed in elaborate, beautiful dresses, usually with earrings – The right ear a moon, the left ear a star/sun, depending on how you want to view it.

Azura has an medium pitched, strong and powerful, but sweet at the center. She hardly speaks at loud volumes, though is known to raise Her voice purely to be noticed.

☉ domain . . .

Azura’s domain is known as Moonshadow, which is a very bright and colorful land, filled with pink trees, flowers, waterfalls, and contains a city of silver. It is said to hold “too much” beauty, so much that it can render mortal visitors “half-blind”. 

Azura herself resides in a rose palace. She is always welcoming to mortal visitors.

According to the Khajiit people, Moonshadow is where Azurah tends the Gates of Crossing, the bridge between Nrni and the afterlife. It’s here that they are guided to the Sands Behind the Stars if worthy.

⛮ working with . . .

Azura is treated mostly like a teacher.

She is not often pampered, but is not against being treated that way.

To love Azura and yet hate yourself brings Her great sorrow, as She is a Goddess who deeply loves and cares for Her followers.

Working with Azura is heavily shaped by the follower in question, as Azura more just lets you do as you wish, as long as you still invite Her and work with Her, and let your emotions be at the front of worship – Be them positive, neutral, negative, and any colored blends of them.

She teaches many things in relation to divination and astrology, and guides to self-love and adoration.

She also often bestows prophetic dreams upon followers. While not all prophetic dreams might be from Azura, some very well might be, and so followers should learn how to tell when Azura’s influence is present within.

Azura isn’t easy to slight, and is likely to forgive immediately if just apologized to.

Things that slight Azura:

not much… I can’t think of any! /lh a testament to how gentle Azura is

Much like in the canon of the Elder Scrolls, Azura sometimes gives visions / prophetic signs / etc that might not necessarily bring peace to their mind. Sometimes, She simply chooses you to bear a burden, though She tries to be kind and provide for you to apologize for that.

. . . benefits ]

Azura warns followers of hardships coming their way with Her prophetic gifts. She teaches divination and astrology for the sake of goodness for oneself.

Azura teaches intensely to love oneself.

. . . risks ]

There’s very few, next to none risks of working with Azura. Even if slighted and offended, She’s more likely to scold you than punish you, and if it’s bad enough, She’s most likely to just leave and return once you’ve righted your wrong.

⚜ holidays & festivals . . .

Azura’s summoning day is March 21st, which I practice as a day to honor Azura.

♡ prayers . . .

⛤ 01 . . . Great, beloved Azura, Queen of Moonshadow Herald of the Dusk and of the Dawn With Your kindness and grace that You send down upon me,  With Your love for me and the adoration within Your heart,  Please hear my prayer on this day,  and know deeply of my love for You.

⛤ 02 . . . Divine Azura, blesser of mortals with the gift of prophecy,  I seek to know more of my fate.  With this offering I leave at Your altar,  I humbly request your aid.  Be it with a dream, or be it with cards or a crystal, or any other tool,  I graciously accept your gift of prophecy.

⛤ 03 . . . Azura of the Crimson Gate, Queen of Dawn and Dusk, I leave upon You this offering, with all of my love within it. I hope that You enjoy it well.

⛤ 04 . . . O Lady Azura, I call upon You now. I seek Your audience, I seek Your time.

⛤ 05 . . . Prince Azura, Bright Moon and Star, You who deliver prophecy and knowledge upon mortality, I worship You, I revere You.

⚿ evoking, invoking, summoning . . .

EVOKATION &&° 

wear gray make-up, nail polish

veil

wear sun and moon symbology

wear flower crowns

— ☆ — 

Things in [] are for making it a summoning.

WHY AND WHEN &&° 

when you wish to receive a prophetic dream

when you wish to do a major divinatory session

on March 21st

INGREDIENTS AND OTHER TOOLS &&° 

some mixed scent candle or wax melt. [two candles, one dressed with a simple sun, the other a moon OR carve the sun and moon into the wax melt]

[rose petals]

IDEALS &&° 

Time – dusk or dawn

Location – in a safe place

STEPS &&° 

If using tools, prepare your divination tools, and cleanse them.

[Burn a rose petal in the candle and let the ashes sit at the bottom of the candles for the wax to melt into/onto. OR Layer rose petals around the wax melter.]

Light the candle or turn on the wax melt and call upon Azura [and ask Her to come to you as the candles burn.]

Offer upon Her an offering. 

Invite Her to either provide the dream or sway your hands in a divination reading.

Snuff or blow out the candle after it is done.

NOTES &&° 

Azura is often invoked just by calling for Her. You don’t need to invoke Her for small bits of divination, as She’s likely to be there and present regardless. But if you want to do something big, feel free to invoke.

⛼ history . . .

. . . mythos ]

Note that most of this is... generally copy/pasted and very mildly edited from UESP. Look, I can't thin it all down, I tried. Please support UESP forever!

( KHAJIITI MYTHOLOGY )

Azurah was born from the third litter of Ahnurr and Fadomai, after the twin Moons and their Motions, and Nirni. Nirni and Azurah immediately began fighting for their mother's favor, but soon an angry Ahnurr struck Fadomai, and she fled into the Great Darkness with her children for protection. There, a dying Fadomai birthed her youngest, Lorkhaj, and bestowed gifts upon the rest. One by one the children received their gifts and departed, until only Azurah and her mother remained. Fadomai then left Azurah her greatest gift, three secrets—instructions on how to create the Khajiit.

Much of what comes after are known in pre-ri'Datta Khajiiti stories. They state that Azurah wept as her dying mother told stories of love, war, and undreamed dreams; the names of all gates and thresholds, of all the spirits, and of all the Khajiit that would ever live. Azurah wept so much that the moonlight reflecting off her tears "became one with the Lattice" as Fadomai died. Azura remained within the Great Darkness for some time, consumed by her grief.

Sometime later, Nirni needed a place to bear children. Lorkhaj tricked his siblings into creating the World to satisfy her desire, and many of Fadomai's children died in its creation. The survivors killed Lorkhaj and tore out his heart. Or so they believed, for the Great Darkness in his blood filled the hole where his heart had been. He sought out Azurah for help. Meanwhile, Azurah remained within the Great Darkness, mourning Fadomai's death. In time, the light from her tears and the Lunar Lattice dispersed the darkness, and she found herself in a "place of moonlight and shadow". Azurah then tried to return to her mother's side, but her tears had created a great sea, and beyond it stood a black gate that opened into darkness. And there stood Lorkhaj, his chest gaping, a shadowy imitation of his heart beating steadily, dripping black blood. But Azurah knew the names of all of the spirits, so she recognized the Great Darkness for what it was. Azurah was able to rip the Dark Heart—and all the Darkness—out of her brother before it could consume him. She cast it beyond the sea, into the Void, where it became the Moon Beast, the first of the dro-m'Athra, and Lorkhaj perished within Azurah's embrace. Azurah made a funeral pyre for her brother before the gate, and lit it with the Twin Lanterns of Jone and Jode. Her tears fell upon the pyre and the ashes scattered across the Lattice. As a result, it is said Azurah (and Khenarthi) can call upon the "true spirit" of Lorkhaj to appear.

The spirit Noctra was born from the black blood of Lorkhaj at the steps of the Void Gate. Boethra was able to defeat the spirit and took her to Azurah for judgment. Azurah was merciful, and allowed Noctra to live if she agreed to serve Azurah and the Lunar Lattice. But Noctra stole one of Azurah's keys and fled into the Void. So Azurah summoned the true spirit of Lorkhaj after her, and now Noctra aids the Khajiit when she is called upon.

Because of Lorkhaj, Nirni could now make children. But she was sad because the forest people, her favorites, were "torn between man and beast" and did not know their shape. So Azurah came to Nirni and tricked her into allowing the creation of the Khajiit, offering a "gift" of new people. She spoke Fadomai's First Secret, and the Moons parted for her. She took some of the forest people and made them many shapes, for every purpose, called them the Khajiit, and put them in the best forests and deserts on Nirni. Azura told them the Second Secret and made them Nirni's secret defenders, and bound them to the Lunar Lattice. And she spoke the Third Secret, and "the Moons shone down on the marshes and their light became sugar".

However, Y'ffer overheard Azurah speak the First Secret and told Nirni what Azurah had done. So Nirni made the lands of the Khajiit inhospitable, and allowed Y'ffer to change the forest people into elves—the Bosmer. And Y'ffer shouted the First Secret across the heavens so all the original spirits could cross the Lattice, but Azurah ensured that neither Ahnurr nor Lorkhaj could hear the Secret. Y'ffer was corrupted by the Namiira sometime after Lorkhaj's death, and murdered Nirni. Hircine, Azurah and Khenarthi slew him in retaliation for the deed, then built a cairn for Nirni using his bones.

Sometime before the Khajiiti people's "first memory", Azurah, knowing that the false Lorkhaj, the Moon Beast, would one day covet her children, used the Twin Lanterns to summon Lorkhaj's true spirit to be a sky-guardian. As the third moon, Lorkhaj shined his light upon the Khajiit, choosing the purest of heart to be part of the "Litter of the Hidden Moon", to learn the way of the Moonlight Blade. And from then on, on nights of the Ghost Moon, Azurah opens the Void Gate, and the Moon Beast will challenge mortals until banished. Modern Khajiit have fallen away from this belief, instead interpreting the Ghost Moon as the corpse of Lorkhaj which was flung to the moons after Convention, and forced to follow Jone and Jode forever as punishment.

It is said that Magrus serves as a reminder of Azurah's wrath. The Sun God once fought Boethra and Lorkhaj, and Boethra plucked out one of his eyes. Half-blinded, Magrus fell into the Moonshadow, where Azurah judged him too fearful to rule a sphere, and tore out his other eye (though other stories say he gave Azurah the eye willingly). Azurah took the eye and fashioned it into the Aether Prism, a stone that reflects the Varliance Gate, and opens from Dawn to Dusk.

( FIRST ERA )

Many years after the Alessian Slave Rebellion, tensions between the descendants of enslaved Nedes and remaining Ayleids grew. Culanwe, one of the most beloved servants of Azura, sought to broker peace between the Nedes and the Ayleids. An Ayleid messenger was mysteriously murdered during this, causing suspicions between the two forces to grow, until an outsider Nede and Ayleid discovered that a servant of Molag Bal was responsible, seeking to sabotage Azura's will. United against a common foe, the Ayleids and Nedes made peace, though Culanwe sought to stop Molag Bal's plots for good. She would later be captured at Laeloria and imprisoned in Coldharbour, tortured by Molag Bal for millennia, much to Azura's dismay.

The disaster caused by Molag Bal at Gil-Var-Delle was the catalyst that sparked the conception of the Coldharbour Compact between the 3rd and 5th of Rain's Hand, 1E 2920. It was an agreement between Tribunal god Sotha Sil and eight powerful Daedric Princes: Azura, Boethia, Hermaeus Mora, Hircine, Malacath, Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, and Sheogorath. Little is known about the Compact, but it is theorized that it prevents the Princes from directly manifesting on Nirn. It is also speculated that, in order to secure the agreement of the Princes, Sotha Sil either made a credible threat to them or presented a significant offer in exchange.

( SECOND ERA )

In 2E 582, Azura asked the Vestige to help free the soul of one of her servants from the clutches of Molag Bal, and to free her Oracles from pocket realms of Oblivion.

Azura involved herself in the affairs of mortals once more when a plot concocted by Barbas threatened to destroy the island of Vvardenfell. She assisted the Vestige and her new champion Seryn in defeating the false Nerevarine and brother of Seryn, Chodala, and begrudgingly helped return Lord Vivec's power so that he could stave off the meteor Baar Dau's collision.

( THIRD ERA )

Some time around 3E 405, Azura charged an agent of the Blades with killing a monk who had offended her. The Blade was given Azura's Star for completing the task.

In 3E 427, Azura took notice of a prisoner sent from the Imperial City to Morrowind in the hopes of being a prophesied hero, the Nerevarine, the reincarnation of Azura's First Era champion, Lord Indoril Nerevar. She helped guide the prisoner into fulfilling the prophecy, becoming the Nerevarine, and freeing Morrowind from the threat of Dagoth Ur. The Nerevarine was also given Azura's Star, as a reward for helping her win a bet with Sheogorath.

In 3E 433, the Hero of Kvatch received the Star for putting down some of Azura's worshippers who had inadvertently been turned into vampires while in her service.

( FOURTH ERA )

Faithful priests of Azura were given a vision that led them away from Vvardenfell before the eruption, and the Dunmer built the shrine of Azura in Skyrim after the Red Year as their thanks to her, so that none would forget that she watches over them all. Azura's further visions tested the faith of the priests, who gradually left the shrine afterward as they were afraid to know their own future.

By 4E 201, Azura's Star was in Skyrim, in the hands of a dying mage. He had corrupted the artifact, allowing it to trap black souls and placing his own inside it. Azura sent the Last Dragonborn to retrieve the artifact, though when found, it was broken. The Dragonborn entered the Star and destroyed the mage's soul, though whether or not this was done with Azura's help is unclear.

𝌁 other vettable information . . .

When meditating on Her presence and name, Azura brings:

visions of: moon and star clusters

feelings of: night chill

❡ notes . . .

Azura has a major goal of Her followers loving themselves as much as they love Her.

Azura teaches astrology a lot. Specifically Western Astrology.

Azura is pro-baneful like the rest of the Daedric Princes, but tends to be more strict on what makes someone an asshole deserving of it.

Azura also teaches a lot of magic about changing the future itself. 

Azura adores any decks/tools related to astrology and/or proper divination.

[whimsiquix]

Draupadi on Arjun for the simps

Alone on a single chariot, he defeated gods, men and serpents. That youthful one is now a dancing master for King Virata’s daughter. The one with the infinite soul satisfied the fire god in Khandava. Partha has now gone to the inner quarters, like a fire covered in a well. He was a bull among men and enemies were always frightened of him. Dhananjaya is now in a form that is despised by the world. Enemies trembled at the twang of his bow and the slapping of his palms. He now pleases women with the sweet sounds of his singing. A diadem that was like the sun always adorned his head. Dhananjaya’s unkempt hair is now braided. All the celestial weapons are known to that great-souled one. He is the repository of all knowledge and now wears earrings. Thousands of kings, whose energy was unlimited, could not cross him and overcome him in battle, just as the great ocean does not cross the shoreline. That youthful one is now a dancing master for King Virata’s daughter. He hides himself in disguise and serves the daughter. O Bhima! The earth, with its mountains and forests and mobile and immobile objects, trembled at the roar of his chariot. He is the immensely fortunate one whose birth destroyed Kunti’s sorrow. O Bhimasena! I now sorrow over your younger brother. He is adorned in golden ornaments and earrings and sports conch shells in his hands. On seeing him approach, my mind is immersed in sorrow. O Bhima! The archer Dhananjaya wears his unkempt hair in a braid. O Bhima! On seeing him surrounded by young maidens, my mind is immersed in sorrow. He is equal to a god. When I see Partha surrounded by young maidens, in the midst of musical instruments, like a bull-elephant in rut surrounded by she-elephants, and in the service of Virata, king of the Matsyas, who pays him, I can no longer see any of the directions. Surely the arya does not know the difficulties Dhananjaya has to confront, or those that Ajatashatru is immersed in, having become addicted to evil gambling.

- BORI 614(18)

[yume4evere]

Message from Hino

Volume 9

the feeling of wanting to say something

Thank you for reading. This is the 9th volume of Vampire Knight Memories. As someone who loves bookstores, I am truly honored and happy that they continue to publish not only electronic versions but also paper books. What was commonplace in the past is no longer so… These are the days when I am savoring the present. I can only express my gratitude to all the readers who have been with me this far. Because, as I have said many times, the book would not have been published if there were no readers. And I don't think i would have continued the manga in the first place. So, thank you very much. Thank you for your letter as well. There are probably two more volumes of memories left.

From here on, I will explain Hino's real life now.

A worsening of a chronic disease, hospitalization for surgery, abnormalities in eyesight and knuckles, contracting the new coronavirus and its after-effects, aging parents, parting ways with a calico cat who i loved her like a daughter… It has overlapped over the past few years. I try to separate my daily joys, angers, and sorrows so that they don't affect the inner parts of the story, but I don't know if I've been successful. All I can tell is that my boldness, calmness, and sensitivity to excitement have softened. I know this, so I always worry about it. However, the damage to my mind and body that I sustained in my daily life had an impact on the series itself. The editor in charge and the people at the printing shop really made the most of their time, and thanks to that, I managed to get it to the magazine, but it wasn't very complete…it was the best I could do to write this sentence. Now that I'm on vacation, I've been receiving treatment, I've gotten used to taking on the responsibilities of my parents, and I feel like I've recovered from the damage.

Sudden suspension of publication, reduced number of pages, and above all, the completeness of the manuscript screen. There are more things that are better than pencil sketches.

That kind of thing has increased.

Just a little more.

I want to do my best. I hope you will stay with me until the end.

I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to the person in charge and everyone who has been involved in bringing this manga to the world, to O. Mizo-sama and his A. Ichiya-sama who are always my assistants, and to everyone who reads it.

Hino Festival

[ahlulbaytnetworks]

First time Imam Ali (a.s) hold Umar ibn khattab shirt cooler and told him, you the son of free slave, and throw him down.

Imam Ali (a.s) Against Exhuming the Grave of Fatemah (s.a).

It is related that on the night when Fatimah (s.a)was buried, forty (false) graves were made in the graveyard of al-Baqi’, and when the people were informed of the death of Fatimah (s.a), they hastened to al-Baqi’ and found forty fresh graves present.

They did not find the grave of Fatimah (s.a).and started weeping and wailing and reproached one another.

They said to one another, “The Prophet (Saww) did not leave among you except one daughter and she passed away from the world and was buried, but you could not participate in her burial and funeral, nor can you recognize her grave!”

The elders of the community said, “Go and bring some believing women that they may come and exhume these graves so that we may find the grave of Fatimah (s.a).

We may then pray upon her and visit her grave.”

When Imam ‘Ali (a.s) was informed about their plan, he came out of his house in a rage wearing a yellow cloak which he would normally only wear during times of difficulty.

He was in such rage that his eyes had turned red and the vein of his neck had swollen with blood!

He was leaning upon his sword Dhulfiqar until he entered the graveyard of al-Baqi’ and warned the people about not exhuming the graves.

The people said to one another, “This is ‘Ali b. Abi Talib (a.s) who has come in such a (mental) state that he swears that if even one stone is turned from upon these graves, he will kill all of you!”

At that moment ‘Umar, accompanied by a group of his adherents, met ‘Ali (a.s) and said, “O Abal Hasan! What is this that you have done! We will indeed exhume the grave of Zahra (s.a).and pray upon her!”

Imam ‘Ali (a.s ).grabbed him by his collar, twisted it, and threw him upon the ground. ‘Umar fell down and ‘Ali told him, “O son of the free slave from Abyssinian! I left my right due to fear that men may leave the religion.

But in case of the desecration of the grave of Fatimah (s.a), I swear by Allah in Whose Hands lies my life, if you do so, I will quench the thirst of the earth with your blood! Do not do it and save yourself!”

Abu Bakr came forward and said, “I request you, due to the right of the Prophet of Allah (Saww)and by the right of the One who is upon the High Heavens, leave ‘Umar, we will not do that which displeases you.”

Hearing this, ‘Ali (a.s) released ‘Umar and the people scattered away and resisted from desecrating the grave.

House of Sorrows Translation of Baytul AhzanShaikh Abbas Al – Qummi

[instruth]

A MELANCHOLIC POEM

Is this what we are told - a new found joy?

Not splendor but a treacherous decoy?

Groups cramped in pigeon holes on a stand

Large families packed in a home without a land

Hoisted home up in the sky swiftly built

No warm blankets just share a family quilt

Good Heaven! Greater sorrow newly imposed

No days for native walks none shall be proposed

O Fair Land, why hast thou caused us to leave

To this distant land unknown far more aggrieved?

Do thou, sweet Mother, weep in vain

Thine fair tribes now add on to thy pain?

Thine children knock at doors for bread

Chilling bones in hunger desperation led

Good neighbors forced to sell their daughters

Not through any faults of theirs that they should falter

Bless me - why, had we brothers any sister

Our decision would not have been better

Painful to watch sweet little girls in tears

Pretty innocents in their helpless years,

I weep as I watch them in their charms,

Shaking wildly in their fathers' arms

Grieving mothers kiss their mindless babes

Strike their breasts looking skyward sadly in gapes

I see the fairies and nymphs degraded

In my dreams I see my heaven has faded

These are the hard truth in times of shame

Best to forget, nothing to share, no one to blame.

Oh past the plain the surging joy prevail

That which I have loved can never fail

That broken teacups I have taken with me

Stirs my will daily sipping my humble tea

No tales no news from barbers or farmers

It's fine - all return at meals as we gather

No theatre, no ballad, no talent time

Everything comes handy in sublime

Make our own feathered balls and stuff

Marbles rolling, guessing games and bluff

Obscure yet it sinks deep in our souls and hearts

Those simple treasures, everlasting will not part

My vacant mind frolicking in the pond

Caress my soul, my spirit neatly bond

Contented on my stool writing my poetry

Pass my time in imagined peasantry

Raise my native strength for greater gain

Instead of indulging in pitiful afflicted pain

Plant my seeds, pull out the weeds annoy

With compliments from God, my daily joy.

©Johnny J P Lee

15 November 2024

A Short Story On

The Irish Famine In 1740

Photos Credit, JPLee, Ireland Visit, 2013