#or “even a traitor may mend?” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

appleofmyii · 8 months ago

Text

and you dont seem the lying kind, a shame that i can read your mind

Now playing: 'duvet'- bôa

Synopsis: after finding Luke is the lighting thief and a traitor, you go to comfort and talk to him only to find him with someone else, leading to Clarisse mending your broken heart

fem!y/n x Luke Castellan, endgame fem!y/n x Clarisse La Rue

Warnings: luke, cheating, kissing, swearing. Lmk if I missed any

A/N: this is my first ever ff so please have constructive criticism only.

Your head spun and your heart felt like it was torn in half.

percy, Annabeth, and grover had just arrived back from their quest and it was revealed who the real lighting thief was, Luke Castellan, your boyfriend. While your head knew that the right thing to do was break up with him immediately, your heart still ached with love for him. 'Maybe if I just have a talk with him I can understand his prospective' you thought to yourself.

You start heading towards his cabin, other campers surrounded in a huge frantic crowd, wondering whats going to happen next. There were thunder clouds forming over the entire camp, and the lake tides were getting heavy, something serious was about to happen, but you didn't care, you didn't care that World War 3 might start, you didn't give a shit about that, all you could care about was finding Luke.

You slowly walked into the Hermes cabin, and you could hear muffled moans in the background. Luke's door was locked shut but you assumed that it was just because he didn't want to see, hear, or look at anybody. You softly knock on the door "go away I'm busy" Luke shouted, followed by a giggle. That giggle didn't sound like them though, it was sweet and girly. You wondered to yourself if you were just hearing things or if something was going on inside of the room, something that shouldn't have been.

"Luke it's me, look I know you may not want to see anyone right now, but we seriously need to talk, can I come in?" You shouted. " oh shit it's y/n" Luke whisper shouted as if their was someone else in the room "hide." You wondered who he was talking to and why they were being told to hide but then, luke opened the door, he was shirtless and only had his boxers on making you I tiny bit flustered, you blushed as you met his eyes "hey. Who were you just talking to?" You said in a soft tone voice making luke nervous, "no one." He said, looking down at his feet, clearly lying. "Well then may I please come in?" You said again in your soft tone and using your doe eyes as a way to persuade him, and while that usually drives him crazy and bends him to your will, today he was just not budging. "No. I'm kind of busy at the moment but I'll catch you at dinner" he said with a nervous smile.

You then saw another person far behind him, peering out of the corner whispering "is she gone? Come back I miss you." Luke looked at you with nervous and guilty eyes. You look at him with tears welling up "who Is that?" You tried to say but your voice broke, you already knew the answer, and you didn't like it. " I said who is that?" You shouted, your sadness quickly turned into anger, a trait you inherited from your godly parent. "Look I can ex-" luke tried to say but you immediately cut him off "You know what luke, down answer. Don't fix your mouth to speak at all. You know I was going to stick by you? I was going to deny everything and defend you even if it ment my friends and reputation gone? Gods, you might have been a lightning thief and a traitor to percy, but I would have never thought you would ever betray me. Go fuck yourself" you spewed out all in one breath, you thought that if you had said it slowly, you would break down, something you didn't want to do Infront of him or the person behind him.

you storm around the camp, unsure of where to go. If you went back to your cabin, your half siblings would want an explanation, something you weren't ready to waste your breath on just yet. You immediately thought of clarisse, your best friend, someone who was always there for you and vice versa. Though she was already pissed at luke for being framed as the lighting thief ,something you didn't believe at all, and you didn't want to fuel her fire, you urged to be held in clarisse's arms, crying your heart out.

You arrive at the ares cabin. Luckily no one else is there but her, you can see her though the window, sharpening her new spear, the spear that you paid double to get a hephaestus kid to make. You make your way through the door and you couldn't hold it in any longer, you burst into tears, clarisse immediately dropped her spear and rushed over to hug you " what's wrong pretty girl?" She said in a worrisome voice. The nickname immediately ran through your head. Pretty girl was the nickname she gave you when you arrived at camp, though back then it was used as an insult. "It's luke....." you managed to say through sobs " he's and traitor and a cheat." "He what" clarisse whisper shouted, her grip tighted for a second and you could practically feel the anger rushing through her vains, "im going to kill that son of a bitch." "No no clarisse don't do or say anything, he's already going through so much..." your voice started to shake as you trailed off. " he did you so wrong and yet your still protecting him, I don't understand you y/n." You spend the rest of the night laying in clarisse's arms

A few weeks has passed since the incident. Word got around about luke cheating on you and now he has been cut our and avoided entirely, including his own half siblings. You've gotten over him, with the help of clarisse. You almost want to thank Luke, if it wasn't for him you wouldn't have been spending this much time with her, or been able to see her in a new light.

calling it a crush was an understatement. You were head over heels, something you hadn't felt for Luke. Butterflies flew in your stomach by just the mention of her name. You excitingly anticipated your next meet up with her. You were completely and utterly down bad. And the feeling was mutual. Clarisse blushed at the sight of you, stealing glances at you and nervously fidgeting whenever you caught them. Now all you had to do was make it official.

You were nervous, not at her response but at others. Would people think its werid how you moved on from luke to clarisse? Would people think it was an odd pairing? What would your half siblings think? Hell- what would ares think? But all your thoughts washed away as soon as you saw her. She was just gorgeous. Suddenly you didn't care about what people thought about you two, not even the gods, if it ment that you got to see that face all the time. " clair..." you said, using your soft voice and doe eyes combo that once drove luke mad. "I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine." Clarisse was very flustered by this, she normally makes the first move and so to have someone else do it for her was a feeling she was not yet used to. You shot her a fearful look seeing as clarisse was hesitant to respond. "Im sorry if that's weird I just thought-" you tried to splur out but you were interrupted by clarisse's Lips meeting yours.

The kiss was surprisingly soft and sweet. You'd imagine what it would been like kissing her before and you always thought it would be rough seeing as she's an ares kid, but you weren't complaining. You kissed her back. Tugging on her curls and pushing your head forward to deepen the kiss, then you suddenly pulled away, "does this mean we're dating now?" You questioned her playfully, laughing at her astonished look from the sudden stop "what do you think?" She said in a annoyed tone. You giggled and continued on with the kiss

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆the end ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

#clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse my beloved #luke castellan #pjo #miyasplaylist

139 notes · View notes

moonsandmobilityaids · 2 months ago

Text

Deserving

Pairings: Sirius Black x disabled!reader (Part of my poly!marauders x disabled!reader universe) Summary: Sirius gets a letter from home. Warnings: Reference to abusive Black family Series Masterlist

The flames flicker in the Gryffindor common room's fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Still, Sirius feels no warmth seeping into his bones as he sits rigidly on the couch, the tension in his shoulders apparent even from where you stand.

In his hand, a piece of parchment rests, its edges crumpled slightly from where his fingers have tightened around it. His knuckles are white against the dark ink that mars the page, and without seeing the words yourself, you know they bring nothing good.

Just the sight of him like this fills the air with an unspoken heaviness, a palpable reminder of the world beyond Hogwarts' protective walls—a world that refuses to let him go.

You don't have to ask to know what it is; the seal had given it away. Another letter from his family, another attempt to pull him back into the fold. But Sirius is anything but compliant, and the defiance that usually lights up his grey eyes has now turned stormy, mirroring the tumult within him.

Stealthily, you manoeuvre closer, the playful banter that typically colours your exchanges absent in the weight of this moment. Sirius doesn't acknowledge your approach, his attention anchored to the parchment like a ship in stormy seas, tethered by words that threaten to capsize him. His jaw is set hard, a line of defiance against the tempest within, and something about the rigidity of his stance makes you think he's teetering on the precipice of shattering.

"Sirius?" The name is barely more than a breath, an exhale shaped by concern. You don't dare speak louder, afraid that any more pressure might be the crack that brings him down. But you need him to know you're there, even if you can't reach out and touch him, even if all you can offer is the warmth of your presence and the promise of your silence.

He doesn't answer, but the way his hand relaxes its hold on the parchment suggests he's not entirely lost in his thoughts. You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing his arm with a softness that belies your own anxiety. The contact seems to anchor him, pulling him back from whatever dark place his mind has ventured.

"Sirius," you say again, more firmly this time. He turns his head slightly, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes—a storm raging within their depths, lightning flashes of anger cutting through the clouds of pain. Your throat tightens at the sight. This is a hurt no magic can mend.

"What did they say?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile silence. You don't need the specifics; you can already guess the poison that drips from their words. It's always the same with them—reminding Sirius of their disapproval, their hatred for his divergence from the family's twisted ideals.

A bitter laugh escapes his lips, devoid of any real humour. With a swift motion, he crumples the letter, the parchment crunching under the force of his grip. He tosses it onto the floor, where it lies forgotten, a stark reminder of the invisible chains that bind him to a past he longs to escape.

"The usual." His reply is curt, the edges sharp with suppressed emotion. "Disappointment. Failure. Traitor." He spits out each word like it's a curse, each one landing like a blow. "Take your pick."

His voice is laced with bitterness, but beneath it all, you sense a deep-rooted pain. They may be only words on paper, yet their effect on him is palpable—like unseen fists driving into his soul. He masks it well, this Black heir who's learned to wear indifference like armour, but you know him better than most. You've seen the hurt in his eyes, even when he shrugs off their barbs as though they're nothing more than annoying gnats.

"They don't know you," you say, your voice firm with conviction. You lean closer, your hand still resting on his arm, a steady presence amidst the storm of his emotions. "They don't know the real you, Sirius. And what they think... it doesn't matter."

His gaze flicks to you, and for a brief moment, it's as if he lets you see the vulnerability behind his mask of indifference. "Isn't it?" His voice is barely above a whisper. "They're supposed to be my family."

"Family," you reply, your voice quiet but firm, "isn't always about blood. It's about the people who care for you, who love you for who you are—not what they want you to be."

Sirius doesn't answer, his eyes cast downward, but you feel him stiffen under your touch. You can almost see the storm clouds gathering behind his grey eyes, the clench of his jaw betraying the battle within.

"Maybe so, but they've never loved me for who I am... only for who they wanted me to become." His words are heavy with bitterness, each syllable a testament to the years of pain etched into his soul.

You step closer, reaching out to take his hand in yours. It's shaking slightly, a testament to the turmoil that threatens to consume him from within.

"They don't deserve you," you say, your voice steady and unwavering. "They never have."

Silence stretches between you as he stares down at your intertwined fingers, his brow furrowed in a battle between anger and hurt. There's a fragility to him now, one that belies the strength he so often projects. But you understand — family has always been a tender spot for him, a wound easily agitated by their words and actions.

Every message they send is another slice into that raw vulnerability, each word designed to make him bleed. And though he tries to hide it, you know these cuts run deep, lingering long after they should have healed.

A shuddering breath escapes him, and his shoulders slump as if a heavy burden has been lifted. "I hate them," he murmurs, the words barely reaching your ears. "I hate them for making me feel this."

Your heart aches for him, but you maintain your hold on his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing rhythm. You draw him closer then, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

At first, he stiffens, unused to such comfort. But after a moment's hesitation, he leans into your embrace, his head finding rest against your shoulder. You can feel the tension slowly ebbing from his muscles as he allows himself this rare moment of vulnerability.

"I know," you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair. The strands are softer than they look, a stark contrast to the hard life he's led. "You don't deserve any of this, Sirius. You're not the monster they've made you out to be."

His response is not in words but in the subtle shift of his breathing, slower now, as if every exhale is a piece of anger leaving him. The rigidity in his muscles begins to soften, melting into your embrace. You feel him lean against you, his forehead pressed to the curve of your neck, and the slight tremor that courses through him speaks volumes—of battles fought within and the walls crumbling down.

Your arms tighten around him, a wordless promise etched in the language of touch—you are here, you will stay, you will weather this storm together until the memory of that hateful letter is nothing but distant thunder on the horizon. Until he remembers not the false image painted by blood relations, but the truth you see in him—the strong, brave, loyal man whose heart beats in sync with your own.

Minutes or hours might pass—it's hard to tell when everything else fades into insignificance. When Sirius finally moves, drawing back just enough to look at you, his eyes are rimmed with red but hold less turmoil than before. Through the storm that raged, there's a flicker of something new, something akin to gratitude, perhaps even relief.

"Thank you," he manages, voice rough from disuse yet laced with sincerity. His fingers trace an absent pattern against your arm, grounding himself in this moment, in the tangible proof that he is not alone.

A small, reassuring smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead with a tenderness that belies the strength within you. "No need for thanks, Sirius. I'm always here."

He looks down at your hand, still holding his, then back up at you. Those stormy grey eyes are clouded with something akin to disbelief, as if he's struggling to understand why anyone would show him such kindness after all he's been through. "I don't deserve you," he whispers, the ghost of his usual smirk playing on his lips. But it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Sirius..."

You shake your head slightly, laying your other hand gently atop his. Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to his forehead, your words barely more than a breath against his skin. "You're wrong about that."

There's a moment where neither of you move, the world beyond these walls forgotten. Then, Sirius exhales, the sound caught between a sigh and a laugh. His shoulders lose some of their rigid tension, but not all. Letters like these, memories like his—they leave scars that run deep. But for now, in this fleeting respite, you've managed to bandage one of the wounds.

And for tonight, that's enough.

#sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #moonsandmobilityaids

32 notes · View notes

stargazer-luna · 5 months ago

Text

A poem I wrote a while back... from Edmund's pov

Even a Traitor May Mend

I thought some of my fellow Narnians might enjoy this...

(Version in Runic under the cut)

#chronicles of narnia #narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #narnia the lion the witch and the wardrobe #edmund pevensie #c. edmund pevensie #king edmund the just #king edmund #aslan #my posts #starluna's poetry

45 notes · View notes

into-the-very-fires-of-mordor · 8 months ago

Text

BABE I AM WRITING A BOOK ABOUT THIS! This take is so precious to me and so important! Thank you for so beautifully sharing this!

Thinking about how Cassandra walked to her own death at Clytemnestra's hands. Thinking about how she knew. Thinking about how she was so tired that she went anyway. Thinking about how despite seeing the entirety of her future stretching out in front of her, she didn't fight back.

Thinking about how Clytemnestra murdered Cassandra over Agamemnon's body. Did she see her daughter, when she looked at Cassandra, raised her blade? Did she see Iphigenia, lying on the altar? Did she see blood on Agamemnon's hands? Did she look at Cassandra and think "My daughter should be here. My Daughter should be standing here, and you're here instead, because Agamemnon chose you and slaughtered her."?

Thinking about how Clytemnestra refused to close Agamemnon's eyes or mouth after she killed him. Thinking about how she denied him funeral rites, denied him a proper burial. Thinking about how when Odysseus meets him at the gates of Hades, he is a restless spirit, how he is still thinking about those last moments, about Clytemnestra turning away. Thinking about how she condemned him never to rest. How when she gets to the afterlife, she will meet her daughter, and he won't be there to hurt them.

Thinking about how on this vase, Clytemnestra's face is hidden.

I can't help but think, too, what if it had been different? What if Clytemnestra had looked at Cassandra and instead of seeing Iphigenia's corpse, she saw her face? What if she looked at Cassandra, far from home, walking, docile, to her own murder, and saw Iphigenia looking up at her, and stilled her hand?

What I'm saying is what if Clytemnestra adopted Cassandra and they murdered Agamemnon's men together. What if they both got a second chance. What if Clytemnestra got to save a daughter. What if Cassandra got to live.

I know myth is defined by silhouettes, not people. It was always going to end like this. It was always going to be this way. If Orpheus turned around, it wouldn't have been Orpheus.

But I think of Hadestown: "As if it might turn out this time." We sing these songs, tell these stories, again and again, out of that hope that this time, it might be different.

I think that's the whole point.

#getting me back into my #cassandra and calypso #era #calypso and cassandra #though the more I learn about #calypso #the more I want to just make the story about #cassandra #however I do believe even a traitor may mend and I want to stick it out for calypso #anyways I just want you to know that Clytemnestra and Cassandra uniting as allies is precious to me and I love you for sharing that #also your writing is chefs kiss

125 notes · View notes

safely-in-vhagars-belly · 9 months ago

Text

Fire & Blood: Chapter 24: Time is a illusion (Dark Aemond x reader oc, x aegon ii ) 18+ minors do not interact and MAJOR BOOK SPOILERS/SHOW SPOILERS ATABF reader ocish she has a name its complicated

🔷Summary: After the events of Blood and Cheese and Rook's rest, you return to your husband and your king.

🔷Author's note: MAJOR book spoilers but not all that happens is canon.

🔷Wordcount:3187 (thats short sorry)

🔷Warnings: murder, mentions of toxic relationship, slight smut and BOOK SPOILERS also childloss and child murder targaryens commiting war crimes. war being war.

It seems that the days have become shorter or the nights have become longer. That, or you don’t have a healthy idea of time anymore.

Time, in a way, has become an illusion. Days may pass, hours may go, weeks end, months follow each other closer and closer up as if entangled in a dance. But you know the truth now: No matter how quick the time goes, it remains an illusion. A lie everyone tells themselves to feel better. ‘’It will pass.’’ Your servant girl said when she was braiding your hair.

You laughed at her words. What will pass, exactly? Pain? You have become used to pain, to grief, to feeling as if someone is suffocating you while in truth that is you, and you alone hiding your emotions. Pain does not scare you. It's familiar, in a way. You hold onto it. But the idea that it will pass, that one day you’ll be left with nothing but acceptance and an empty cradle? A half-burned husband that can’t give you anymore children and you, sitting on his iron throne because he can’t get up from the bed? That is what terrifies you. That one day this rage, this pain and hurt will be nothing.

That you will be nothing.

Months have passed since you last saw Aegon. The last time you saw him awake and well was long before the battle of Rook's rest and your pregnancy. You had his child warmly nestled inside of your womb where no one could hurt it. No soul dared to touch you as Aegon’s wife, safe be for the loyalists of Rhaenyra.

And that is exactly who killed your innocent baby, Helaena on her name day. You named her after the sister Aegon and Aemond shared, perhaps to mend the wound between the two of them, or perhaps to sway their mother to your cause, but whatever reason you may have had in the beginning didn’t matter so much in the end. Before Helaena would see her first morning sun, a dagger ended her life. An assassin’s blade.

You have been called forward now, to see your husband, your king and your longlife friend Aegon who has just awoken as a miracle from his comatic state. He got injured during a battle at Rook Rest, where he and his brother, Prince Aemond slew the traitor Princess Rhaenys and killed her dragon. You were at home, of course, heavily pregnant with his child that would end in a disaster as most things do.

Every instinct tells you to run far away from both Aegon and Aemond. One had captured you in a literal cage for weeks, months perhaps. The other crowned you without your consent, made you his wife for the world to see, and made you a target. Both were boys, once perhaps. You were a girl in love, perhaps. But boys become men, and love eventually dies. That is how life has been before you, why would it be any different now?

Your husband and your king stares back at you with living eyes full of admiration and joy. It is not joy, you notice. It’s something even more heartbreaking then that. He has that look most men have, when they think their wives have squeezed out a perfect heir that will save the husband from damnation. This is what they call ‘’Pride.’’

He is proud of you.

There used to be days you could never not look at the prince, his fierce beautiful eyes, short silver locks and out of this world beauty that was indescribable with any pencil this world and the next could offer. There were moments your daylight extended by seeing his face, as in a way, it protected you from the dark.

O, how you long for such simple times.

To be a girl again, with a book in your hands, smacking a hangover Aegon when Aemond comments that you should behave yourself.

‘’My love, my Brienne.’’ The King speaks, his voice a bit raspy but hearable. You faithfully accept his left hand reaching out to squeeze your fingers but your eyes are locked to the monstrous arm where metal and skin meet one another, and where the fire of a dragon made Aegon part man, part metal. You shudder to think of the nights you will spend sleeping and waking up, suddenly feeling that cold metal arm touch you.

There is joy and kindness, and hope and brightness in his eyes. Emotions you haven’t felt in months. Emotions you aren’t sure that are real now, or ever were real. Hope for fools, perhaps. Doom for nations, for certain.

Another matter, perhaps but it does prove your suspicion as to why every single soldier, every servant and Maester, Queen Alicent and even Prince Aemond left the room when you entered.

No one, not the coldhearted Green Queen, not the Terror of the Trident, not the fierce King’s guard or the all knowing Maesters had the guts and the balls to do what is now your task. No one informed him of the passing of your child. No one. That is now your task. The task of a mourning mother, a childless Queen and a shell of the person you once were.

Cravens, all of them be damned.

Aegon forces his hands on the wood of the bed, lifting himself up to sit so he may have some dignity while addressing you. You could not care if he was in a casket or lost all his limbs he could never lose his dignity. Your love is tested for him when you see him winch in pain as the poppy milk wears off, and you are for the very first time in your life unsure if your love is strong enough to face this.

It is not that he has lost his attractiveness. But it is that constant reminder, that constant bug flying in your face showing you how much pain Aegon is in, how much suffering he endures and who you should all blame for that. This war started the moment Aegon was born and it will end with the death of her.

Aegon pretends to not be altered by his new disabilities, by his new life. He takes a deep sharp breath revealing just how much this is killing him from inside out. A man like Aegon who prided himself with his beauty, with his grace and long legs…..

How much of that light will remain now that the flame has blown out, all that remains is shadow?

In his eyes realisation starts to form and you both come silently to the conclusion that life will be unlike anything it ever was before. It will heal this wound. A new scar will appear. But how much scars can a flesh handle before it starts infecting and begins to rot?

You rub your ring and watch Aegon for a while, your mind thinking of multiple ways to start the conversation, yet they all feel as cheap little lies as you try to hold off the inevitable. You rather watch your husband pass out and sleep than him sitting here awake and in a clear state of mind aware you must deliver the news now.

He knows you won’t speak. So he does. “You look well-”

Your snort interrupts him. Your hair has begun to grey and your skin is full of scratches and wounds where you keep peeling at, until it bleeds and spreads over your skin, just to feel something. Your eyes are darkened and hollow, as a starving girl. You don’t long for food. You long for justice. “I am not.” Is your cutthroat cruel response to his simple opener.

“You are not wearing your crown.” Aegon says, pointing with two fingers to your head. You don’t have the energy to wear the damned thing. It does not help that no one does what you want anyway. You are a Queen consort, not a King born from the womb of the former Queen. You needed Aegon’s approval for everything and while he would give you the world his council would rather see you die yesterday than tomorrow.

“Without you I am no Queen.” It is true. ‘’Your men treat me like an accessory. A fun little token playing dress up. I have been in power for months since you slept and not one time has my word been considered.’’

It is like a spell has been broken and a curse has lifted on Aegon as he slowly tilts his head.

“My son. I deserve to see him.” He says. ‘’I don’t know why you didn’t bring him. I don’t know why the servants told me he was asleep and I don’t know-’’

A cold idea creeps into your mind, as a dark seed has finally taken root and begins to spread its weed over your mind. ‘’What servants?’’ You ask, faking interest.

‘’The blonde new girl.’’ The king says. ‘’It is not important.’’

You sit down on his bed, breaking the distance between the two of you. You lock your hands into his own, feeling where metal and men meet, feeling where scars are appearing and wounds are healing. You owe him the truth. “It was a girl.” You begin.

Aegon’s brows nearly become one.

“It was?” You understand he must be disappointed.

You fiercely sit up.

“Yes. I named her Helaena. I know she's not what you wanted nor needed-” Aegon shuts you up with a kiss on your mouth, missing you by a inch as he stumbles over. He smiles, genuinely and happy when kissing you a dozen times.

And yet you deserve none of it.

“My Queen, my Brienne. Where is she? I must see her.” He rambles.

“Assassins came.’ You whisper in his ear. His smile vanishes within a blink of an eye and you see him figure it out on his own. Yet he plays pretend and dumb, a way he always protected his feelings.

“They were all killed. I'm unharmed.”

You wish it were guards instead.

“Helaena was not unharmed. They killed her. I watched them kill her, Aegon.” You break down, and you break down hard. You fall from your safe haven of mind and break, shatter and crumble to ashes as you let out the one after the other horrifying sob.

“I have been so alone these last few months. Aemond barely visited me. You were asleep. And my child, who I did not even deserve for the way I resented her early on for not being a son…” Your voice dies off as gasps and cries escape your throat; your vision becomes blurry with tears. “I can't do this anymore. I lost too much. I suffered too many losses. My mother, my father and my sister. And then you and my baby. I will never-” This is not going well. You struggle to breath and the pain on your chest increases.

“You still have me.” Aegon mutters, holding you as well as he can. Yet the moment you see his melted arm, you begin to panic again.

“Aegon, can't you see? Whatever we had, whatever was growing between us: We will never have it back the way it was. I can't find myself. I am lost in a darkness where I can't seem to find light, no matter what way I turn.”

“Then let me help you-” He whispers, no begs, commands and yet wishes in the same sentence. ‘’Please, Brienne. You know I have loved you. More than I have loved everything. I would set this world on fire to see you smile, and I would snuff out every bit of light if the dark brought you comfort, my love.’’

“I don't want to find the light, Aegon. Not anymore. I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Your Queen, your lady wife and your love. You took a vow without me knowing so, but you promised to protect and honour me.’’ You tell him.

“I did.” He mutters, staring at the ring that once belonged to his father. When he finally looks up there are tears rolling down his cheeks as well.

Your plan might be cruelty. Your heart will never be pure after this. But honestly: Who cares about purity, who cares about justice, for it has become clear that this world does not. The gods keep laughing at your attempts at goodness, and you have been far too kind with the struggles they have given you. “I want you to get on Sunfyre. I want you to mobilise your army. And I want you to burn everything that even dares to blink in the direction of that whore's Castle.” You vow. At first you see him tear up. Then he silently cups his own face with his hands, crying as he doubles over on the bed, clutching you so tightly you are sure his nails are digging in his skin.

“...Aegon?” You ask.

“Sunfyre…” He begins with a heartbreaking sob. “He'll never fly again. One of his wings got ripped off his body. He'll never fly. Neither will I.” You understand the truth of this horrendous discovery. Your husband lost his beloved pet, and you just lost another great way of destroying enemies. Your husband started this war with Vhagar, Dreamfyre, and Sunfyre under his command and now only Vhagar is in state to ride to battle.

Aegon needs you. But you can’t be what he needs. Not anymore.

“I can't stay with you.” You tell him before pushing him off your body. And as a coward, you run away from him, your royal duties and the looming dread of destiny.

“Brienne! Come back…” his shouts are ignored.

You don’t come back.

—-----------------

The next time the doors open in your face, you are standing in front of Aemond Targaryen’s bedchamber. You have been here various times yet this time might be considered treason. Aemond is surprised to see you, yet lets you in. You follow him closely, shutting the door shut behind you.

Prince Aemond has never made a secret of his love for you, and you know it is burning brightly still. ‘’How was my brother?’’ He asks.

‘’As a corpse brought back to life.’’ You respond, looking at the flames in the fireplace, licking at the wood, destroying it.

Aemond crosses his arms, offended. “You don't find him attractive anymore, is that it?” You laugh. You wish it was that simple.

You sit down in his chair, ignoring the looks he gives. You are the Queen now. “I sometimes wonder how I came to think you were a clever man, so blinded you often are.”

“I watched my husband go from a healthy man to a broken soul with a metal arm in months and saw my daughter die in front of me. I wish it was as simple as not finding him attractive.’’ He still looked so beautiful. Your Aegon. Yet so broken.

You notice that Aemond has taken a seat next to you. ‘’I am sorry, Brienne. I am sorry for ignoring you. I didn’t know what to say after you lost Helaena. It all felt like nothing was good enough.’’ Such funny creatures, humans be.

‘’Anything would have been enough.’’ you confess. Anyone would be enough. Anything is always better than silence. ‘’Yet, i appreciate your honesty.’’ You reach out for his hand but he pulls away as if he burned himself.

‘’What do you want from me, my Queen? The hour is of the owl. You should not be here given our history.’’ History is such a funny thing. Only survivors will determine what is true of it.

You must feed the dragon, awake the monster and pull its reins once more.

‘’Remember when those men in the woods, tried to rape me? Remember how you burned them all? How we burned that city together?’’ You also had sex with him afterwards, good sex, one of the best times in your life with him.

You smile. ‘’I want to relive old times. I heard that the woman who calls herself queen is from the Vale. I heard it has lovely woods and delightful servants that will scream once you blaze them.’’

As if on queu, a servant appears from behind both of you, clearly clutching Aemonds sheets around her body while she makes a curtsy at you. You feel many confusing emotions. You feel shock, rage and jealousy. Yet you are married. You are happy with your husband.

Am I happy or am I surviving?

It’s the same blonde bitch that lied about your daughter being a son and being alive. You trap her easily, the sheets falling from her body. ‘’I was hoping to see you.’’ You tell her, hissing as you become a bit unhinged. She eyes you with big eyes.

‘’The Queen told me to lie! She said it would break the King’s heart to know you delivered a failure!’’ She cries for mercy.

‘’Brienne,’’ Aemond mutters. You don’t listen. ‘’I will come with you. Just let her go. I was lonely and it was a mistake and it won’t happen again.’’ You know he is lying. It will happen countless times again, and every time is one too many.

You fall back into Aemonds arms as the girl tries sneaking past you both. When she puts her clothing back on, a single sapphire falls down from her pocket. You and Aemond both watch as she becomes as red as tomato, clearly caught red handed. ‘’Y-your grace. I am so sorry. The war has been starving my family. Prince Aemond has many sapphires, I never…’’ You feel compassion grow, finally.

You feel like yourself again.

Aemond huffs. ‘’You dare try to steal from our Queen?’’ He asks advancing. You know that tone. You don’t pick up on it until it is too late, and Prince Aemond has captured the thief by his window. You can only utter a word before he pushes her outside of it, and you hear her screams as she falls to her death, her remains shattering around like an artistic painting.

Your breath is racing as Aemond advances with a smirk, cupping your face lightly as you try to become the cold queen again. He grins, giving you a soft kiss on your mouth gently bending your face so he may have another taste, and another…and another. ‘’My little bee.’’ He declares. ‘’I see you are still in there, somewhere. I will burn our enemies together with you, and in exchange you let me feel what I wanted to feel for months now. Do we have a deal, or shall I tell the king-’’ You don’t let him finish his threat before your mouth finally finds his again, your hands already tugging at his eyepatch. Aemond groans in response and picks you up by your hips, carrying you to the bed.

You watch the ceiling as the one eyed prince fucks his troubles and your own away.

And soon?

Soon you’ll destroy Rhaenyra.

The same way she destroyed you.

A/N.

I really think Brienne is projecting too much on rhaenyra and not enough on her business with aemond/aegon and whatever the heck is going on at the red keep, who keeps letting these assasins in smh.

Anyway: thank you for reading!!:)

37 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 2 years ago

Text

"It is very true," said Edmund. "But even a traitor may mend. I have known one that did." And he looked very thoughtful.

Screaming crying throwing up over this line in The Horse and His Boy

#book #books #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the horse and his boy #edmund #edmund pevensie #the pevensies

249 notes · View notes

yumeka-sxf · 2 years ago

Text

A chronological analysis on Twilight and Yor - Part 13

*This is part of an ongoing post series. If you missed the Introduction/Part 1, click here*

----------

During the episode where Anya has to give a report on her parents' work, we learn more about Yor's job as an assassin, which sheds some insightful light on the theme of moral ambiguity in the series. During an interview for the Spy x Family fanbook, Endo states that the Forgers should not be seen as shining examples of moral virtue; he doesn't think it's correct to only see their "nice family" side. And he's right of course, as both Twilight and Yor have professions that revolve around immoral things, like deception and killing. But while Twilight doesn't see those he has to kill or manipulate as "bad guys" necessarily – they're either helpers or hindrances to his missions and that's it – Yor's view is much more black and white. In her mind, all of her targets are traitorous villains, and by killing them, she can take pride in knowing that she's helping her country, much like a soldier.

While she does try to maintain some humanity in her work, like being extremely careful not to kill the wrong person and making sure her targets die a painless death, it's clear that her view of being an assassin is more straightforward than Twilight's view of being a spy. We don't yet know exactly how Yor became an assassin, but we do know that she started as a child, so it makes sense that she'd be brainwashed into a naive interpretation of her job as simply "helping her country by getting rid of bad guys" (unlike Twilight, who was an adult when he became a spy). And, as I mentioned before, she likely had to forgo a proper education because of her work, and so missed out on many real-world experiences that would allow her to think more critically about the morality of her profession. From what we've seen of her work, eliminating the "bad guys" is technically what she's doing, but we also know that there may come a time when someone she's sent to assassinate is not the villainous scum that she's used to…someone like Twilight perhaps? Just as Twilight's worldview may shatter when he realizes he cares too much for Yor and Anya to continue to deceive them, Yor's childlike opinion of her job would certainly be crushed when she realizes she's being sent to kill people who are not always the "bad guys" that Shopkeeper tells her they are.

Anya eventually decides to use Twilight's cover up job as a psychiatrist for her report. But at the end of their excursion, when she hastily puts together the sandbox exercise, we see another example of Twilight truly empathizing with her. We saw him start to take a less strict approach in the episode where she got her first stella, where he made an effort to find specific activities she would enjoy rather than continue to push her to be a scholar. But here, his reaction to her chaotic creation in the sandbox is anything but his usual standoffish attitude – he panics about how much stress she must have been under, not only from being in the orphanage, but also from being suddenly dragged to a stranger's house. He even starts blaming himself for not realizing it sooner (has he always been prone to this line of thought, or is Yor's imposter syndrome continuing to rub off on him?)

His fatherly side is forced out again not too long later when a jealous Bond chews up Anya's Penguinman plush. When Anya adamantly cries that she only wants the plush her papa gave her and won't accept a replacement, Twilight complies. He spends time carefully mending Penguinman (while Yor sits by his side watching intently, giving her full moral support. It's just like her to look that concerned as if he's performing surgery on someone, since she knows how important Penguinman is to Anya!)

Afterwards, Twilight has just the right things to say to Anya to make her feel better about the whole situation, like how honorable Penguinman's "scars" are, and even quoting an episode of Spy Wars when Bond comes over to apologize.

The Twilight that first adopted Anya and saw nothing but annoyance in her irrational behavior, would certainly not have adapted so well to the situation. Yet another example of how his skills as a father are improving, slowly but surely.

Continue to Part 14 ->

<- Return to Part 12

#twiyor #spy x family #spy family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #loidyor #loid x yor #sxf meta #sxf analysis

163 notes · View notes

a-funeral-pyre · 6 months ago

Text

May Day Parade - Round 3: free space

Once again for @queer-ragnelle 's initiative. I am officially unable to write anything but angst, so this is what I came up with. Since I already wrote about Mordred and I mean to write about Gawain, I thought it was fair to try with the other Orkney brothers. So here it is:

You always knew you were a sinner.

There is more blood on your hands than your uncle wants to see spilled. You felt no mercy as Lamorak coughed up blood and begged to be spared.

But at least you never betrayed your king.

You wonder if he will remember when he sees your body. If this time he will top defending the man who dared to continue to smile at him after getting into his bride's bed.

If he can finally open his eyes and see all the rot that lurks in his shining court.

But you do not want to hope too much. He will probably regret the traitor's loss more than yours. And even if he doesn't, none of your companions will shed a tear for you.

You've made too many enemies in this life. You have never regretted it until this moment.

You don't even know if, given the chance to survive, you would go back. It would be nice to know that someone will miss you. But you would never be able to mend the bonds you broke in your desire to rise above others. Once you put out the fire of envy, you don't know what else could be driving you.

You did not even manage to eliminate the man you most wanted to see fall. And even if his treachery has been discovered, your life will not be considered by anyone too high a price for the revelation of his disloyalty.

You will be remembered only as the wild son of Orkney, thirsty for blood and revenge, and many will sleep better once they hear of your passing. If the thought gave you comfort while you were alive, now you only wish you hadn't spent your life hating those who were brighter than you.

Maybe then your end would have been happier. You probably wouldn't even have died the same way.

At least you wouldn't be here, bleeding out alone, on the cold floor of the room of two blasphemous lovers. When you watched Lamorak take his last ragged breaths, you did not think it would happen to you.

But, if you had someone to call a friend by your side, it would not be so hard to wait for nothing to come.

You manage to block your thoughts before they can degenerate. They will not help you right now, just as they did not help you in life.

It was not out of loyalty that you avenged your uncle's honor. Part of you hopes he does not notice.

You just want to feel like it was worth getting to this point.

…

Your mother would laugh at you if she were here.

She has every right to do so. The man who treacherously killed her, eliminated without warning by a traitor. You would laugh too, if breathing wasn't too painful.

This day would have been hard enough to bear without ending with your death, and with Gareth's cries ringing in your head while you are unable to move and look for him.

It is the right punishment for someone like you, and you are not blind enough not to recognize it.

You would not have wanted to let your queen burn, despite her guilt. But you were not as kind to your own blood. And even if that was not why Lancelot wanted to kill you, you cannot help but feel like fate is punishing you.

But by now, it is too late to regret. At least you are certain that this was the fate you deserved. You could not escape your damnation forever.

You should have no reason to cry for your life. Not after everything you have done. You should have known that sooner or later you would pay for your sins, and your end would not be peaceful.

At least you will see Agravain again. You will burn together, struck down by the same hand. You never thought the thought would bring you comfort.

But Gareth should not be here dying with you. There was no reason why he should pay too.

And there will be someone who will suffer your end in your place. Your uncle has already lost a nephew, a spouse, and a friend. And even if he may accept it, Gawain will not. You listened as he asked you not to participate in the execution.

You do not deserve Lynette's tears.

At least you will not see their mourning. At least you will never know what will happen next, when you are no longer here.

Death brings more death. You have witnessed this many times. And you know that your end is just the beginning. Your brother will not let this act go unpunished.

It's not worth it. Maybe for Gareth. But not for you.

But through your clouded eyes you find no one alive to tell. The blood trail has already been traced. The downfall of Camelot has begun, and you will not be able to stop it. You are dying alone and a sinner, and everything around you is burning.

You try to speak, but only smoke from the fire fills your lungs as you take your last breath. Mother, you try to call, are you satisfied now?

…

You should never have come here.

You should not have agreed to watch the death of the woman you swore to serve and honor. Perhaps, despite her guilt, you should have tried to prevent this sentence from falling on her.

At least she is safe. But, if you had resisted – if only you had decided to follow Gawain and walk away from this place until the ashes had cooled – you would be too.

You just expected that you would contemplate an end you should have opposed to, go home, and try to shake off the memory. You did not believe your life would end instead.

You did not think he would be the one to hit you.

You would not have stopped him. If you had had the courage, you would have joined him. You remember the last words you spoke – you vaguely remember trying to call him, telling him you were not going to fight him, begging him to save the queen.

It was not enough.

You do not want to blame him. Maybe if Lyonesse had been in Guinevere's place, you would have done the same thing he did, even if it meant breaking your vows.

But, even when your soul has completely detached from your body, you will not forget the look on his face as he hit you. The fury, the blind desire to pour blood and fire into the world just so he would not lose everything.

He hated you as his blade fell upon you. His eyes killed you before the metal.

If you had survived, maybe you would have had to fight him. Maybe you would have had to face his contempt again anyway. And you would have had to live with the fact that, after today, he became an enemy.

But this awareness does not save you as you drown in the cold and darkness, with the memory of your last meeting burning inside you.

For a moment you wish you had died before you met your wife, when you had not revealed the truth yet. You would have died anyway, but it would not have been with the knowledge that your world was poisoned and about to collapse. It would not have been with the thought of what Lyonesse will feel when they bring her your bod. It wouldn't be by the hand of the man you considered a friend.

If you had died before, you would not be here wondering what will be the fate of your now too torn family, of the kingdom you swore to protect and of whose fall you will be only one of the first victims.

If you could get up, if you still had the strength to speak, you would go to your uncle and beg him not to shed any more blood. To give up his revenge, not to allow others to end up like you.

But you're too busy wishing for your agony to be short to try. You can only pray – and desperately try to ignore the awareness that your prayers will go unanswered.

#arthuriana #my writing #may day parade #queer-ragnelle #agravain #gaheris #gareth #angst #arthurian legends #lancelot

18 notes · View notes