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two-white-butterflies · 4 months ago

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three great men and death | daemon targaryen

Description: You were the object of his ire - the foreigner who stole his position as hand. Hate and love are parallel lines. Daemon finds himself running to you after his failed marriages and exiles.

Pairing: the hand! reader/daemon targaryen

Word Count: 3k+ did not bother to check after it passed 3k

A/N: Enemies to lovers. Reader is crazier than Daemon.

There have been stories about his brother's new hand. A great beauty that came from Lys and managed to earn the King's trust. You tell everyone that your purpose as Hand is for the betterment of Westeros, but Daemon does not believe that - how could a foreigner want good for a land she did not come from?

"Power is a curious thing, my lord. Are you fond of riddles?" you inquired, walking past the roses and peonies. "Why? Am I about to hear one?" he asked. His eyes narrowed slightly.

He has slithered his way into your company, seeking to understand you better. He needed to know your purpose; and the best way to undermine the enemy was to pretend to be their ally.

"Three great men sit in a room, a king, a priest and a rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword kill the other two. Who dies?" you inquired, carefully watching him from your periphery.

You did not succeed by being stupid and trusting. You knew what kind of game he was playing at and it would be best to quench this little rebellion of his before it began. "Depends on the sellsword." he surmises, staring at your face and awaiting a reaction.

"Does it? He's not the crown, no gold, no favor with the gods." you continued toying with him. "He has a sword, the power of life and death." Daemon argued, hidden meaning in his tone.

He's telling you that he wields the sword.

"But if it is the swordsman who rules, why do we pretend that kings hold all the power?" the sides of your lips turned upwards. His eyes twinkle slightly, but it loses its glow the moment he opens his mouth.

"I have decided that I do not enjoy your riddles, lady hand." Daemon turned to look at you, escorting you deeper into the garden.

"What I next say is not a riddle." you breathed, cleverly waiting until his eyebrows merge together. "What is it?" he humored.

The facade breaks, your smile dissapears as quickly as it came.

"There have been rumors of you and the Princess. I understand that you aim to slander the Crown's good name - mayhaps even take Rhaenyra to wife as you've already taken her maidenhead." you say.

"- but I want you to understand that the plan is stupid, and that King Viserys plans to throw you back into Lady Royce's arms." you informed, pretending that you were truly concerned about his wellbeing. Daemon's breath stills.

There was no one around you in the gardens. Not a single soul that was able to hear about the ordeal. "Lady hand." he began, his hands circling around your neck, threatening to choke the life out of you.

"I know the truth, that you did take Rhaenyra's maidenhead. But I will not tell your brother if you agree to my proposal." you held his hand, attempting to pry it away from your neck, but his grip tightens.

"Speak." he commanded, his fiery purple eyes glaring daggers upon your own.

"What I offer is a transactional relationship. I keep my silence, and defend you against any accusation, but you must be on my side." you insisted, that twinkle returns in his eyes. Gods, he was unpredictable.

"Against who?" he interrogated.

"Ser Otto. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. He wishes to rid me of this post. He wishes to make his grandson heir. I am the only one standing between the family that you love, and a war." you breathed.

He frees you from his grasp. A strange smile on his face.

"You prove yourself useful, lady hand." he complimented, before abandoning you in front of the Weirwood Tree.

He lays cooly on his bed, watching as you entered his chambers with a hood hiding your face. "I have brought the evidence that you begged for." you informed, throwing a compilation of letters on his bed. "I did not beg for anything, lady hand." he rolled his eyes.

But he still reads the letters that you've presented him.

"These are compilations of Ser Otto's letters to his brother. Clear proof of his plans to supplant your niece." you explained in simpler terms, maintaining the distance between you, in case he think of something else.

You've been allies for half a year now. You've grown to understand that Daemon was the type of man who allowed his emotions to rule over rational thought. His lack of control gave you the upper hand.

"He wants Aegon as King, and by extension, he wants to be King." you continued, seeing his eyebrows merge together in intrigue. "What should we do? Should we tell Viserys?" he asked.

Daemon already had a plan of action in mind - to kill Ser Otto. But that wasn't the smartest course of action. Your plan was inevitably going to end up better than his.

"Ser Otto is the Queen's father. Viserys has always allowed mercy to persevere throughout his rule. Ser Otto will not be punished. He'll be exiled and in a few years, he will be back for revenge. I say that we keep the evidence and wait for the perfect time to use it against him." you strongly advised.

Daemon smiles at you - a real smile, this time.

He pats the empty side on his bed.

You sigh, but you sit beside him anyways.

"I wish to marry Princess Rhaenyra. I need you to think of a plan that will use this to get what I want." he tells you, pointing at the letters.

A loud chuckle escapes your mouth.

"We have a transactional relationship, my prince. I have given you something and you've not given me anything in return." you scoff.

He tilts his head. "If I kill my lady wife, Viserys might give you the Runestone. It would be killing two birds with one stone." he pondered, smiling to himself as his words rhymed.

"Lady Rhea Royce has cousins." you reminded him.

"Her cousin is sworn to the Kingsguard. The rest of the cousins, you tell me have collectively committed a grave crime that could send them in servitude at the Wall." he schemes.

He casts you a look.

"I will threaten them with a letter, and I know them best - they will flee like a feather on top of a bouncing mattress. This is your path to legitimacy, lady hand - a chance to have a title." he continues.

"Viserys will never allow me to have lands and titles of my own." you looked away from him. A woman from Lys, inheriting a great castle. "The King has always granted your petitions. He treats you like his own daughter. He will give you the Runestone. It is between you and me." he says with certainty.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for his robes on the chair.

He stands up.

"Where are you going?" you inquired.

"To do exactly what I've told you." he rolled his eyes, lifting his grey hood until it was over his head.

Prince Daemon Targaryen was going to be the death of you.

There was a stinging feeling in your heart. Were you cruel for not telling him about the engagement between Laenor and Rhaenyra? It wasn't like you wanted him to remain in the dark about it - but the idea of him marrying his niece brought shivers down your spine.

It felt wrong.

"It behooves me how half of House Royce flees the very second Lady Rhea is murdered. Do you have any idea why that is?" King Viserys asks you while pouring himself a cup of tea.

"They must've murdered her, my king. Why else?" your eyebrows merge together, a line that you've rehearsed a million times in front of the mirror. It was wrong to lie. There was a time in your life where you were pure, unable to lie, but those days were gone now.

You've given this world pieces of your beliefs until none remained the same. This was the law of life - you reminded yourself. There were only two types of people, the preys and the predator. The ones taking and the ones getting took. It wasn't fair, but life was never fair.

"There has been a vacancy in the Runestone. You've been loyal to the crown and to the people of this kingdom, and thus, I wish to endorse you in claiming the Runestone." he says with kindness in his tone.

Your eyes lit up.

You didn't even have to ask him for it.

"I've always admired your dedication. All the sleepless nights that you offered to ensure that my nights would be filled of sleep. There is not that many years in front of me, and before I pass - I wish to repay your dedication and loyalty." he finished.

You force a smile on your face.

"Thank you, your grace. I promise to protect Rhaenyra and if she ever offers me a seat in her council in the future, I wish to offer her the same dedication and loyalty." you thanked.

A genuine chuckle escapes your mouth as you continued dancing with Ser Harwin Strong. There was a certain tranquility in his features. He brought you peace, made you remember a kinder version of yourself.

"You are beautiful, my lady." he complimented you.

There have been hundreds of men that have called you exactly that. There was always lust behind their eyes, but Harwin was different - his eyes had the same twinkle as Daemon's. He looked like he was telling you the truth - that he admired you too.

"I assume that those sentiments have been provided to numerous other maidens in this court, but I still am thankful that you find me thus." you danced to the music, staring deep into his eyes.

You were aware of Daemon's gaze upon your figures. You couldn't understand why he was looking at you - and not Rhaenyra. The wedding has not been conducted yet - he should steal her, marry her.

"I've not told anyone that before. Only you." he insisted.

You could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

"Of course, my lord." you smiled cheekily.

"You fancy my lady hand?" Viserys leaned over so that his brother was able to hear his voice. Daemon rolls his eyes. "Her?" he scoffs. "She is a clever and sly little thing. Sometimes, I find myself agreeing with whatever proposal she brings forth - I do not know the purpose but I know that it is for the betterment of the realm." Viserys admits.

Daemon glances at his brother.

You were dancing circles around them.

"If I had a son around her age, I would've wed him to her. She is a lowborn girl, but she knows our highborn games." Viserys says.

There were times where Daemon thought about the feel of your skin. How your voice would sound in the early morning. He wonders if your palms were warm enough to soothe his freezing ones. But alas, those are thoughts that he keeps to himself, because he cannot make the mistake of falling in love with you.

He knows that he is incapable of loving a woman like you. Because you are too good for him, too much like him. He craves his brother's attention and he fears that once he has you - he'll abandon his purpose. He fears that when he realizes that you are all he wants, he'll be content and happy.

He's not ready for a time like that yet.

He is still standing on the threshold, unable to cross the line.

"There are leeches on your throne. The lady hand is loyal to Rhaenyra. It would be wise to keep her." Daemon advised, before standing up and making his way into the dance.

He's not failed to observe you dancing with Ser Harwin. He intends to have a little fun of his own.

He smiles at Lady Laena.

"You are almost as beautiful as your brother." he teased.

Daemon, always so busy in catching up with the dance - too late to realize that it was an illusion, and that there's no where to cling on to.

He found peace shortly after that.

He married Lady Laena and you married Ser Harwin Strong. Thousands of miles away, yet your lives still mirrored each other. He could not speak on your behalf, but he knew that Laena was good for him - she was kind and sweet.

She did not care about the highborn games in Kingslanding. All she wanted was a warm home with little children running along the halls. "How is the babe?" he inquired, placing a hand on top of her swollen stomach. It was their third child.

"They are well, but they miss home." she replied, sitting beside him on the bench. "When will we return to Westeros? I miss Driftmark." she admitted, resting her head on Daemon's shoulders.

Daemon couldn't find it in himself to return home. He loved Laena, but he knows that it would ruin him to see you. With Rhaenyra it was different - their love made itself known, but with you? You both drifted away from each other before that love could release itself.

He fears that seeing you would make him admit that something has been indeed missing.

"Rhaenyra has given birth to another baby boy named Joffrey. And your brother tells me that your old friend, the lady hand, has given birth to her second child with Ser Harwin. A little babe named Duncan." Laena continued, hoping that it would sway her husband into returning.

"We should offer our condolences too." Laena paused.

"- is the babe dead?" Daemon inquired, his wife shakes her head.

"There was a fire in Harrenhal. Ser Harwin died with Ser Lyonel." Laena informed. "What?" Daemon's eyes narrowed.

Before Laena could answer his question, there was a stinging sensation in her stomach, telling her that the babe was to come. "The babe is coming, Daemon." she breathed sharply.

Daemon stares coldly as his wife's body is lowered into the ocean. Consumed by the fire of her own dragon. "I offer my condolences, your daughters look exactly like Laena. My children look like Harwin too and it has been a great pain." you admit, sitting beside him.

He continues looking at the horizon. Unwilling to look at you in fear that his resolve would fade. "How is life, Daemon?" you asked.

"It could be better." he admits. "- and how is your life, lady hand?" he asked in an amused tone. Though, he still refused to meet your eyes.

"My oldest daughter is betroth to Prince Jacaerys. Believe that whatever transaction we did or did not have is ancient history." you cleverly reminded him, while also hinting that your loyalties shift like the tides.

"You wish your daughter be Queen?" he asks plainly.

Your shared language of being blunt with each other not forgotten by time. "I wish our kingdom be safe." you corrected.

"Of course." he exhales.

"Goodbye, Daemon." you place a hand on his shoulder.

He find himself involuntarily looking at you.

The sight of you takes him off guard.

Nothing has indeed changed.

It was a year later when he saw you again. He visited Kingslanding with both of his daughter, for his ill brother.

"My king, you have visitors. Prince Daemon and his daughters, Baela and Rhaena." you announced, allowing the small family to enter Viserys' chambers.

"Brother," Viserys says weakly.

"It has been far too long." Daemon smiles, sitting on Viserys' bedside.

Daemon sits beside you on the bench. Time did not leave an indent on your features, still as beautiful as the day he left. "I never told you but I enjoyed your riddles." he admitted.

You respond with a chuckle.

"Time hath given me the answers to some, but there is one riddle that remains in my mind. Three Great Men." he says, still remembering the story from long ago. "Who dies?" he inquired.

Your past comes back to you. Memories in all of its color.

"I don't know the answer but I know that all men must die." you repeated the answer that you observed from decades back.

"- once the dust settles, and the sellsword swings his sword, someone will want revenge. The sellsword will certainly have his head on a spike soon after, for killing the king, the priest, or the rich man. I've always reminded you and Viserys that I am lowborn - and despite having land and marrying a highborn man, I am still. The highborn schemes are costly, and only benefit a single person. I do not know who lives, but I know who dies. The sellsword. The people." you answered.

"I wanted to leave my post the moment King Viserys gave me Lady Rhea's land, but I remained because I feared that Ser Otto would scheme to have Aegon on the throne. Scheme of war." you reminded.

There were many things that you did for your own benefit, but this wasn't one of them.

"- and the smallfolk are the ones who pay heavily. I thought about a little girl in the slums of Flea Bottom, with ambitions and intelligence greater than any highborn lord. The only difference was, she was born there and you were born here." you continued.

Daemon takes a casual sip of his ale.

"How long has it been since you've last step foot inside of a tavern?" he teased with a small chuckle. "I've only ever gone with you." you smiled, leaning on the chair and soaking in the warm ambiance of the place. Gods, you were the only woman here. How sad.

"Do you ever think about an alternative future? If we'd been the ones married?" you suddenly inquired, allowing the alcohol to speak in your behalf. "What do you mean by that?" he asks, eyebrows merging together and suddenly transported to a past before the fall.

"We were amazing, gods. We had the entire kingdom wrapped around our fingers. Viserys offered an engagement between us, and I declined him because I knew how much you loved Rhaenyra. But seeing that you're not married to her, still, makes me believe that what you felt for her was nothing but limerence." you surmised.

Able to read him like an open book.

"I loved Laena, and I love our daughters." he says, knowing that he wouldn't have it any other way. "I loved Harwin too, he was one of the few men that made me abandon rational thought." you reply, agreeing with him that you wouldn't have it any other way too.

"- but gods, I did burn for you." you added with a chuckle. You take another sip of your ale. "I thought that if we were together, then there was nothing in this world that could be out of reach." you hummed.

Daemon Targaryen was standing at the threshold and he finally has the courage to cross the line. "I did love you. I still love you." he corrected himself. Your head turns in his direction, shocked at his sudden confession.

"There were nights where I'd think about your beauty, the feel of your skin, your voice. But I kept those thoughts to myself, because you would never indulge yourself in me. I knew how dangerous I was. How much I craved my brother's approval. I didn't want it to ruin you. I didn't want you to turn against me." he admits in a low tone, careful not to be heard by anyone.

"I figured that I could only love you from afar, because if you truly knew me then I would drive you away. Time has made me realized that I am not as awful as I believe myself to be." he smiles, but before he could get another word in - your lips were on his.

Finally ready to be together.

It only took more than a decade.

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jessicas-pi · 10 months ago

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further bad news: that fic i said i would finish by *checks calendar* six weeks ago... is not finished

bad news: that fic i said i would finish by today... is not finished

good news: i impulsively deep cleaned my entire room today

#jessica's writing nonsense #i swear y'all it's almost done #i have just a few scenes left to write to join it all together #so wish me well and mayhap we'll have an update to the Teenage Rebellion AU this weekend!

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nightsdreamgates · 16 days ago

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•. * ♦️ Reala's HCs ♦️ * .•

Author's Note — I've been thinking for a while writting these whole list about my general headcanons and interpretations based of my own views and the canonical behaviour towards Reala and I want to put tonight these views.

Warning: I use She/Them for Reala and slight mention of stalking, not too much suggestive stuff or anything triggering so dw abt it much lmao

[ • ] General —

Okay, we all know that Reala is told many times as Wizeman's most loyal servant and the right hand henchman — But let's not take it in too extreme level. They won't betray Wizeman way far easily in comparison of NiGHTS' who rebelled against Wizeman after changing their point of view of the world and his work;

Reala's loyalty to Wizeman is not by a blind devotion, if you think about it, and yes there will have fear in the middle of this as well, knowing and recognizing Wizeman as the principle and first ancient intelligent form of nightmera and all nightmares;

But it is not moved by fears (mayhaps not only), Reala's loyalty and choose to obey still with Wizeman is due the agreement to Wizeman's views and laws of nature between nightmares and dreams. Moved by a political sense and the reality they take in, unlikeable from NiGHTS' change of view that can be described from Reala herself as "idealistic" or "against his true nature";

Being loyal to Wizeman does not mean as mentioned at beginning, as that Reala is blind by fear (irrationaly) to Wizeman (more of pressure in certain elements like trying to capture NiGHTS and still be himuliated everytime she fail), being loyal to Wizeman for Reala, is being loyal to the natural laws and the dark truth of being a nightmaren;

Reala and NiGHTS being created since the beginning, I like the idea that they we're supposed to be one, so when in game, Reala said between words "NiGHTS, ora imageru" (I think is typed like that, correct me if I'm wrong), can be translated as "NiGHTS, we we're supposed to be a image". The meaning behind this phrase might not make sense for our vocabolary, but for nightmarens, it can mean as same to say that "We are the same" or in this context "We used to be the same one";

In a sense, Reala and NiGHTS always had been opposite of the coin since the beginning before his rebellion, as NiGHTS used to be the one who represented illusions, the more unrealistic side of nightmares that still manages to make it feel eerie and real;

Reala's capability to drill dash is bit defected due the oversize of her tendrils, she had to exercise and at least train what she could to manage to drilldash fast as it could, but her agility is in no comparison to NiGHTS' acrobacies and agility, she always representated the brute force and the rough edges;

Reala for me doesn't wear much clothes besides the jacket and the boots, as weird as it sound for us, but it might be normal for nightmarens not to wear too much clothes (in exception for NiGHTS and Puffy who definitely enjoys to dress up a lot). There is no malice or anything for them to hide, unlike how most of us have the "weakness to cover up ourselves fearly" (told by Reala).

Reala invisible instrument is either a acoustic guitar or eletric guitar depending on her mood;

Reala capability to create her own world of dreams can say by the amount of ideya power she has as a first level, knowing that dreamscapes/dreamlands created by visitors main source is the ideya, and since Wizeman created both her and NiGHTS by it, Reala's abilities can be even be considered subestimated as well more complexitly deeper than we thought;

This headcanon can also be included for NiGHTS, but the reason why both Reala and NiGHTS are considerated as first levels is not because they have "full bodies" or a perfect humanoid look, close enough to morph and trick visitors, but because of their "visitor mind" (aka consciouness, sanity, thoughts and even feelings), the connection with ideyas and the ability to manipulate them besides absorving it like a common lower nightmaren;

[ • ] Romance General —

What Reala searches in a romantic partner there is no much secret on it, just ask and dude will look at you bluntly and answer these things: Loyalty, has a sense of indepedence, smart/cunning, mutual respect and acceptance;

Reala don't want someone who depends too emotionally on her too much, she already have more concerning things to care and having to help or guide someone all the time is tiring and stressful for her. She wants a partner who can be on her side and has it's own ambitions and indepedance as she does to herself, just as that respects the moments she need herself but still show that eagerness that if they need anytime a strong shoulder to lie down;

If you are too insecure about yourself, far too much, I'm sorry but Reala won't want to be near with a partner who isn't certain what they want, feel or do with their own life (in other better words, people who tend to be emotionally insecure or too much dependant). Now if you have few insecurities, fears and all, something that is okay and pretty common, even if you are dutiful and resilient, showing vulnerabilities can mean mutual fidelity, and that's what Reala is satisfied about;

Being able to express herself without judgment or the need to change for their partner's expectations, makes Reala feel far than just comfortable to be near the person who provides that! Even if you don't agree with her most of the time, you both still respect eachother views and recognize that you both live in different realities and that's okay! Reala will only change her point of views IF your points we're enough to click something at them to act like "Hmm... Perhaps there more than it just that";

Reala's pride is vivid but she is not egocentrical in a disrupting level to not confess that she is wrong, a partner that is able to open up and accept they're wrong and shows motivation to do better, is personally for her, admirable;

Reala can be serious and strict at times, but she also have her more comical side, that is her dry humor, sarcasm and her bold mockery. They aren't a edgylord, more of a dark jester commander guys. Someone who can keep up their humor and show a more lightful side, is always very nice and refreshing for someone like Reala who has to handle her title;

Don't trust Reala's confident side all the time, once she is shown through physical affection, she starts to behave more awkward, embarassed and even lightly grumpy if their partner do this on public;

Reala. Will. Spoil. You. If you we're her S/O. SHE DON'T CARE IF YOU DISAGREE, she will give you gifts, bring you to the most beautiful places known to nightmera, even being more cliché like writting poems to let you know that you have the honour to live in a appartment of her mind at necessary times;

Whenever Reala feels stressed, she doesn't ramble or toss rants all the time, just turns quiet. And someone who can silently be there, not loudly saying "I'm here for you!" by mouth, but by being there, is enough;

Reala doesn't expect much from their partner but all of these, too much extra can become overwhelming, but also being too little for her is nauseous;

NOW for physical preferences, she doesn't have those common beauty standards preferences like we do, they don't even care how their partner would look like. But Reala does think how is to have a partner that is contraditory to her looks. As problematic it sounds (if includes by species or race, like a human or a nightopian), the idea she keep it to herself (this secret preferance does not take away the fact that she don't care, all she wants is someone who accepts, respects and sees her hardships and hardworks as worth);

Ah also, if you manage to get her attention or admiration, is normal that she "accidentally" watches you from afar, maybe as a intention to study why she feels what she feels, but ends up falling more in admiration than actually learning what they was there intended to.

#nights into dreams #nights #nights journey of dreams #nid #njod #jod #sega #nightsposting #reala #reala headcanons #headcanons #reala hcs #writting #reala x reader #OAAAGH I FINALLY PUT THESE IN WORDS

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nekohime19 · 1 month ago

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Heart behind the lie # 44 : first battle

Yama reveal the truth

The room was silent for a moment. Macaque could see some of the judges frowning, probably disagreeing with the decision, yet none dared to voice their complaints. Yama sighed and leaned back in his chair, his eyes lost in the table before him, guilt and hurt brewing inside of his eyes. It was odd to see emotions on his face. Macaque was so used to the lack of emotions, to his face of marble, he forgot he was even capable of feelings. All judges were in a sense. The silence was solemn, heavy in the way it pressed against their shoulders. Yama seemed to gather his thoughts after a few seconds, he straightened and opened his mouth.

“Every living being is supposed to be born under my rule, their names written in the Book of Life and Death.” He began, voice smoothed, almost like it was polished to not reflect a shred of feeling. “Even you two were originally under my rule… ” He looked up at both monkeys. “One day, we discovered the existence of someone that had never been registered in the Book of Life and Death, someone naturally born out of the Diyu's reach. She is one of your kind, the Red-Buttocked Horse-Monkey, I'll call her Mahou as of now.” Macaque straightened at the mention of Mahou, he never interacted with the other celestial monkey even if he knew of their existence, it was surprising to learn of one of them now. “As someone who is naturally born out of the Diyu's reign, she is capable of freely traveling the layers separating the mortal realm and the Diyu. This could be dangerous for us, for contrary to transportation magic, her natural given ability is undetectable. Fortunately, contrary to you both, Mahou is not one to cause chaos. She understood the Diyu's orders and never did anything to endanger the realm, at least until she brought this… lantern piece here. She knew bringing a mortal object, especially a shadow related one, to the Diyu was forbidden. Yet when her sworn-sister soul came here and stayed to be cleansed of her sins, Mahou secretly gave her this lantern piece. I don't know what her intentions were, I do think she did not wish for this…” Yama sighed before resuming his story. “In parallel to this another… person… came to the Diyu via transportation magic. I do not know if we can even call him a person. You all know him very well, he was the former thrall of the bone demoness. He came here to wage war and retrieved his mistress' soul, armed with various things. He did not listen to reason when we told him his mistress' soul didn't exist anymore.” Yama's eyes fell on him for a second. “She used necromancy, a heinous act for us, as such her soul was destroyed, forever out of the samsara circle. We would have managed him eventually but he somehow stumbled on Mahou's sworn sister and the lantern piece. Very much like his mistress did before, he shattered Mahou's sworn sister soul and stole the lantern piece. Since then, he wages this ridiculous rebellion. I do not know what he wants exactly, if he's destroying us because of some petty vengeance or if he has more somber designs.”

“Of course it's the creepy not - mayor dude.” Groaned Mei as she slumped in her chair.

Macaque sighed at the revelation, he knew letting this puppet run away after his mistress' defeat wasn't a good idea, they should have muzzled him or, at least, surveilled him. Even if she wasn't here anymore, her hold on her thrall certainly didn't lessen. What he couldn't understand however was how the thrall managed the lantern piece. Macaque knew the guy, he spent some unfortunate hours in his company, and he was certain that he wasn't an adept of shadow magic. In fact, he wasn't very skilled in magic on a general basis. So the fact that he could control Diyu's shadows with a piece of an abused artifact was more than odd. Mayhaps, it could explain why the weapons looked so rough, an amateur work truly, but still the thrall shouldn't be able to lift an inch of this realm's shadows.

“Are you sure he's the one responsible for this rebellion?” Asked Macaque with a raised eyebrow, Yama turned towards him with inquiry.

“Except for him, all the rebels are dead souls. I think you know better than anyone else that dead souls cannot use magic.” Replied the King of Darkness with narrowed eyes.

“Careful with what you're saying.” Growled the sage as he let one hint of his fangs show through his lips. Macaque put his hand atop of Wukong's to calm him down.

“You're awfully territorial, great sage.” Snorted one of the judges, Wukong turned towards him with fire in his eyes.

“I just think we should be careful, the thrall was never one to dwell with shadows, it is odd for him to be able to do this.” Sighed Macaque as he squeezed Wukong's hand, the sage settled on his chair and looked away with furrowed eyebrows, probably still angry.

“This aside, we only have to retrieve the liu'si and you'll handle the rest?” Asked Pigsy with narrowed eyes, probably suspicious of the Diyu's intention.

“Precisely, we do not need your help to handle the rebellion, the liu'si are our only problems.” Replied Yama as he crossed his arms, his expression full of pride.

“And no funny business, right?” Cut Mei as she leaned over the table.

“Like you're not gonna steal our emo monkey from us, right?” Added MK with a nervous chuckle.

“I will not touch him.” Sighed Yama. “I have no use for incomplete souls but we can add this as a clause if you'd like.” Macaque flinched at the mention of incomplete souls, very much aware that fragments of his souls were still missing (they probably faded away in the Diyu's depth). Wukong held his hand and rubbed comforting circles on top of his palm while he glared at Yama.

The clause was added rather quickly and they all signed the contract, Yama kept one copy and the sage was given the other. Yama then gestured for one of his lil fiends, the demon approached warily with a detailed file of all known information on the liu'si and gave it to Wukong. The King of Darkness shooed them away after this, letting them return to the guest room.

“Why were they so secretive about the story though, it's not like they could do much to stop the not-mayor.” Shrugged Mei as she sat on the bed of the guest room, MK slided beside her and Red Son reluctantly sat at the kid's side.

“They have a lot of pride.” Answered the sage as he skimmed over the detailed file, Macaque looked over his shoulders and noticed it was written in ancient Chinese. He then sat in one corner of the room and let Sock leap on his lap.

“So, how are we gonna retrieve the super weapons or whatever?” Asked Pigsy as he crossed his arms.

“The liu'si.” Corrected Tang while he pushed his glasses back on his nose.

“They do know in which level the weapons are and with who… except for the sixth one? Apparently the sixth one is just a rumor for now.” Mumbled Wukong with furrowed eyebrows.

“Then we just gotta fight with, like, five people! That's easy, we're the Monkie Kids, we handle worse.” Chuckled Mei as she put one of her amr over MK and ruffled his hair.

“Where is the first weapon?” Calmly asked Sandy as he tilted his head. Sun Wukong scowled at that and awkwardly scratched his head.

“Well, it's kind of funny, but all of those five guys might be demons I killed during my journey.” They all looked at the King with various levels of bewilderment or disappointment. Sun Wukong coughed nervously and cleared his throat. “Anyway, the first is… it's on the Hell of the Mountain of Knives. Last time I saw the guy he was a huge red serpent and couldn't even talk, more monster than anything.”

“Such a nice sounding Hell.” Groaned Mei.

“The weapon is supposed to be… twin daggers? Something like that.” Mumbled the sage with a raised eyebrow.

“How can a snake even wield daggers?” Wondered MK, he put one hand on his chin and began to think about it.

“We'll find out soon enough.” Sighed Red Son. They all settled around the room for a little bit, deciding to take a short break before diving in Diyu's depth and searching for the red serpent. Macaque leaned on the wall, Sock still on his lap, and closed his eyes. He felt someone sat beside him and opened one eye to glance at them, he wasn't surprised to see Wukong.

“How are your wrists?” Asked the sage as he put his head on his knee.

“A bit better.”Shrugged the warrior. Silence settled over them after that, it could have been peaceful if Macaque didn't sense Wukong's restlessness. “You want to ask something?”

“... No.” Sighed the sage. “Just be careful in the battle.” He mumbled with furrowed eyebrows, Macaque looked at him for a little before averting his eyes. While Wukong's worry came from a place of care, it felt bittersweet for the warrior. He knew he wasn't the most powerful but it still felt sour to be confronted with the unadulterated facts. Yet what could he do except take it in strides? He felt closer to the Diyu's shadows after meditating but he knew it wasn't enough to be able to control them. Macaque needed to be patient in this matter.

They left the room after their short breather, it was rather easy to command the various fiends roaming in the House with their new contract. They were guided to one transportation circle and traveled to the Mountain of Knives. The Hell resembled the one Macaque was familiar with, endless black, endless cries, endless suffering. The only thing that was rather odd was the fog slithering around the different mountains. Sock curled deeper in the warrior's neck, not liking the fog's cold feeling. They walked towards one of the knife mountains, all with their guards up, ready to strike at any suspicious movements.

The Hell of the Mountain of Knives was rather damaged, there was a small amount of dead souls cowering in some corners and the fiends responsible for them were running around the place, trying to keep the mountains from collapsing. The rocks were covered in cracks, on the verge of breaking apart.

“It shouldn't be this hard to find a giant snake!” Groaned MK as he tightened his hold on the staff, Macaque agreed with him. He shivered when he felt something familiar buzzing in the air and looked up, there was an outrageous amount of fog above their heads.

“Guys, are you seeing this too?” Mumbled Macaque as he narrowed his eyes, they all stopped and looked up, watching the fog with various levels of bewilderment.

“This is definitely not normal.” Muttered the King.

Macaque noticed two glowing lights moving behind the fog, as he was about to ask Wukong about it he felt his fur puff up, the natural feeling of shadow magic cutting the air like a well-sharpened blade.

“WATCH OUT!” His shout surprised the others but also gave them enough time to protect themselves as a rain of daggers fell from the sky. Tang put a protective barrier around them, and while it was shaky at first, Wukong stepped in to give it a little boost.

“This is some final boss fight.” Wheezled Mei as she looked up, trying to find the snake within the fog. Macaque noticed some flashes of red at times, but other than that it was quite hard to pinpoint its exact location.

“Are we supposed to retrieve all the daggers?” Asked Pigsy as he eyed the rain of daggers destroying the nearby mountains. “There are thousands of them!” Macaque looked at one particular dagger planted in the soil and easily recognized it for what it truly was.

“No! Those are shadow copies! The true daggers must be with it.” Informed Macaque, the rain stopped for a little bit and Wukong immediately summoned his cloud; it was smaller than usual, perhaps because the Diyu didn't have any natural light.

“Let's go, kid!” MK nodded and summoned his own cloud. Pigsy and Sandy climbed behind one of the clouds respectively to act as supports. They flew directly in the fog, disappearing from sight.

“And what do we do?” Asked Mei as she took her sword and narrowed her eyes at the sky.

“We can shoot long distance attacks, let's focus on that!” Called Red Son, he snapped his fingers and ignited his palms. He then proceeded to shoot rapid fire balls at the fog in hope of hitting the snake.

“Oh I like that!” Chuckled Mei as she imitated him with her own fire. This continued for a bit, then Macaque heard the sizzling sound of shadow magic and warned the scholar, Tang immediately put another barrier around them. The rain of daggers fell on them once again.

“You're alright there Tangy?” Asked Mei, she turned towards the bespeckled man and frowned at his pale complexion.

“This is harder without Monkey King, but I'm fine.” Replied Tang as he held on the barrier and protected them from the rain.

“I think they can't approach him because of the fog.” Muttered Macaque as he watched both Wukong's and MK's clouds dancing around the fog, they seemed to be rejected by it each time they tried to dive in it. “We need to put the snake down.”

“And how are we gonna do that?” Replied Mei.

“... Did you both ever try dual casting?” Asked the warrior as he turned towards the Bull's son and the dragon girl, hoping they, in fact, already did once in their lives to make it easier.

“I trained her at one point but besides that we never tried.” Replied Red Son, he put one hand on his chin and began to think about what the warrior proposed. “But both our magics are highly compatible, it could work.”

“Alright I'll help with the synchronization.” Nodded Macaque, he crouched down behind the two kids, Sock's weight around his neck comforting in the frenzy overtaking them. Macaque was a warrior, highly experienced in battles, he knew how to reign in his feelings, how to act and how to swallow his fear, turning it into strength. The kids weren't novices by all means but they still lacked experience, Macaque could see it in the way Mei gripped her sword a little too tightly, in the way Red Son tightened his fists. Even Tang seemed to tremble a bit. “We'll cast a dual spell with both your fire magics, kids. Tang will lower his barrier at my signal and you'll release the spell, got it?” They all nodded at him. “Do you both know the basics of dual casting?”

“Of course! I'm the great son of the Demon Bull King, this is child play!”

“I have no idea what you're talking about but I'm all for it, emo boy.” Chuckled the dragon girl.

“I like the energy.” Snorted the warrior. “Both focus and take the other hand.” Macaque put both his hands on the kids shoulders to ground them and regulate their energies, it made him wince, his wrists were still not fully healed, but he ignored it. “Move the flow of your magic towards the hand you're holding, slowly, do not rush.” He smiled when he saw how easily they both moved the flow of their magical energy within them, as expected they were quite talented. “Now, fire magic comes from the heart, let your feelings fuel the energy in your hands.” Macaque smirked when he saw sparks coming out of their clasped hands, he looked up and saw how Wukong and MK were still struggling to enter the fog, Sandy and Pigsy were doing a great job at defending them against the daggers thrown their ways. He needed a way to warn them, if not they would be caught in the spell. “Tang can you make a pillar of light, or just something to attract their attention?” Asked Macaque.

“I can try.” Replied the scholar while still struggling to hold the barrier.

“Alright, at my signal you'll release the barrier and make the pillar or whatever you can do to make them notice us. Now, kids, you'll fire the spell only when I told you to.” They all nodded to his words and he patiently waited for the right moment to strike. The snake had some sort of refractory period after using the daggers' rain, he needed to wait for this. Once the rain stopped he shouted “Now Tang!”. The scholar dispelled the barrier and lifted his staff, releasing a shout of blinding light. Sun Wukong turned towards them and immediately understood what they were trying to do when he saw Mei and Red Son. He shouted at the kid to get away from the snake, Macaque couldn't properly see what was happening because of Tang's blinding light but he smiled when he heard Wukong’s shout, as expected the great sage caught on, that's his man! “Now kids!”

Both Mei and Red Son lifted their clasped hands as Tang got out of their ways and ran behind Macaque. Their combined fire intertwined to form one single scarlet-red dragon with bull's horns, they launched it at the fog, falling on their butts because of the spell recoil. The dragon hit the fog, burning it to ashes, and pierced the snake slithering in the sky with its horns. The beast cried in pain and plummeted to the ground. It wasn't defeated yet, but its stomach was bleeding in pain, the wound flaming. Wukong and MK immediately launched themselves at the serpent, hitting it directly. Macaque looked carefully and quickly recognized the shine of the snake's front fangs; he would never mistake these shadowed glints, even if the fangs looked like any other.

“The front fangs!! Those are the daggers!”

Wukong smiled at his input, he climbed on the beast's back and immobilized it with the aid of Sandy and Pigsy while MK was holding its mouth open with the staff. Macaque left both fiery kids in Tang's care and ran towards the snake, stopping beside MK as he struggled to keep the mouth often. It was a risky bet but out of anyone he was better at handling shadows, and thus better at removing shadow daggers embedded in fangs.

“Macaque?” Asked the kid as he glanced at him while still struggling with the mouth.

“Just trust me, kiddo.” Mumbled Macaque, MK nodded at that, always one to trust his friends. The warrior took a deep breath and grabbed both fangs. Of course his skin was ripped, the fangs were sharp after all, and the shadows around them lashed out, but Macaque held on. Somehow it felt weird to grab the fangs, something inside of him was being squeezed, a feeling he couldn't exactly pinpoint.

“No! Mac what are you doing!?” Cried Wukong as he struggled to keep the snake in place. Macaque didn't have time to answer him, he pulled on the fangs, trying to calm the shadows at the same time. It was incredibly difficult, the shadows were not friendly at all, but he managed to subdue them enough. He pulled and pulled until the snake's skin began to rip and, finally, he was able to rip the daggers from the snake's mouth.

Macaque fell on his butt, the fangs in his bloodied hands. The kid fell beside him as well, utterly exhausted. The snake looked at them both with rage but as it tried to attack them, Wukong jumped and punched its head, putting it down once and for all.

“What were you thinking!?” Shouted Wukong, he glared at the warrior and rushed towards him, looking at his bloodied hands with horror.

“I'm fine-”

“No you're not!” Cut the sage in a shaky breath.

“I have the daggers?” Nervously mumbled Macaque. He looked down at the fangs in his hands and narrowed his eyes, it felt strange to hold them, familiar in the oddest of ways.

He tried to hand them to Wukong in hope of calming his fretting heart but the second he lifted his hand the fangs cracked and exploded. The daggers fell like dust in Macaque's lap and an old waning light escaped them. Macaque watched the light with widened eyes, despair filling every inch of his body. He lifted his hand and tried to catch it but the light shone one last time before fading away.

He wasn't even able to graze it.

“Macaque? You're alright ? Why are you crying?” Asked the sage as he fretted over him. Macaque shakily raised one of his bloodied hands and felt his cheeks, indeed, he was crying.

“I-I don't… What?” Wukong's expression softened ever so slightly and he put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Let's get you back to the guest room.”

“Yeah.” Mumbled the warrior with a trembling voice. “Let's do that.”

Ch1 / Previous / Next

#shadowpeach #lmk #lego monkie kid #shadowpeach fanfic #sun wukong #six eared macaque #lmk shadowpeach #lmk macaque #heart behind the lie

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alan-without-the-an · 11 months ago

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I need to talk about Obey Me's character design lest I explode

(Particularly, Satan's design because I find it fucking HILARIOUS)

I think most know about Satan's hairstyle and in-game idle pose mirroring Lucifer's. As well as his casual outfit ALSO mirroring Lucifer (except he wears it with one sleeve on as??? a sign of rebellion??? i guess???)

But I rarely see discussion of his demon form-

WHY does Satan have that feather boa??? WHY does it look like LUCIFER'S feathers, HUH???

IS IT MAYHAPS? REPRESENTING LUCIFER SHEDDING A PART OF HIMSELF?? TO CREATE SOMETHING NEW???

IS IT??????????

#maybe i just havent been looking in the right places but???#ive never seen discussion about this specifically???#please direct me to posts that discuss this #i would love to see them!!!#side note: satan also has my favorite design trope #that is ribbons that are tied so intricately they look like something else #or in satan's case: a ribcage #al rambles #obey me #satan obey me #lucifer obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me satan #obey me lucifer

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geniemillies · 2 months ago

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Yearning For Spring | Ch. 5 | Tamlin x Oc

◇— Chapter 5 - Daydreams

Ch. Warnings: the usual KoH warnings

A/n: A twinge of Hybern worldbuilding mayhaps?

✧ masterlist

<<Ch.1 <<Ch.4 ||◇|| Ch.6>>

Decades continue to pass. Then more still after I brought Velaria to Hybern.

She stayed with me though it wasn't her choice at first.. Despite all the reasons pointing for her to return home, she didn’t. She stood strong beside me, a pillar of unwavering support that kept me going when the world seemed ready to tear me apart.

Words couldn't begin to explain how eternally grateful I am for her. Because if it wasn't for her staying I would've broke long ago.

With her insistence, I faltered and showed her everything. I realised early on that if she were to trust me I needed to be open with her and hide no secrets. So I showed her everything. I showed her the dying lands of Hybern and the territories that toiled away for the King's gain. Even going as far as taking her to the heart of my Father's Court, skillfully glamoured as my own servant, so she could see first hand the crown that controlled the island. And.. in time, I showed her the plans I'd been brewing underground. I took her to the Sidhe where centuries of my schemes accumulated, where I hid thousands of dissenters that I had supposedly captured and killed, all of them working hard to mold and shape a rebellion in my name.

A secret haven under the earth warded with magic I still don't understand to this day. Father doesn't seem to know about it's existence. The magic down there is.. erratic, seemingly ancient. While the rest of Hybern's lands are desolate and lifeless, the Sidhe is the opposite. Grass grows lushly underground and the water is pure, which is why the place is perfect for hiding the rebellion. I've long stopped questioning as to why the place is so strange and different. I've tried to search in history on the matter but I've been unsuccessful. Libraries are a rarity in Hybern and most books and tomes on history are hidden in the palace's forbidden libraries which none can enter. Not even me.

Despite the risk of trusting in magic I don't comprehend, the wards have held steadfast for centuries and many of the dark spells I've learned are weakened when used there if not entirely repelled, offering me a glimmer of hope that if my father ever discovers this sanctuary, his dark magic cannot hurt us so easily

To put it simply, it is a strange place. Nevertheless, the Sidhe is a safe haven, home to all the mercies I’ve spared, all the flaws in me that Father deeply abhorred. A second home to me besides the Lighthouse.

To say Velaria was stunned at every revelation I showed her was an understatement. As expected, she had always believed that Hybern was isolated by choice, convinced that the people of my land were pure evil, constantly scheming especially after we suffered losses in the War. It is.. a good thing that I could dispel such sinister perceptions of my people.

There was a kind of wonder in her eyes whenever I played with the children at the Lighthouse or when I showed her around the Sidhe. She told me I was.. a triumph. A flower amidst hellscape. And that I didn't deserve the life I was born into.

But she didn't pity me... I think. More often than not I see admiration in her eyes when she looks at me.

Velaria showed me friendship like I've never experienced. I used to think I had many friends. But most of them are children who think of me as a maternal figure so Velaria deemed that they don't count, leaving me with.. less friends than I would've thought. Which is sad, sure, but Hybern isn't exactly the place to make long-lasting friends. Or any at all...

Velaria was someone I could confide in about problems greater than the occasional headache and sleeplessness I share with the children or the frustrations that come with planning military tactics with my lieutenants. She was someone I could trust to show the blight infesting my arms and the deeper burdens Father inflicts upon me.

Before her.. I never really had anyone to talk to about my troubles. My cousins, Brannagh and Dagdan, weren’t spared from Father’s ‘love’ either so one would assume they would understand what it feels like to be constantly tormented by the King. But they've grown to keep only to themselves in fear that we might read each other’s ill thoughts about him. I’d never read their thoughts lest they ask. But I understand their fears. I’ve become unmovable by Father’s side. I’ve become his most loyal pawn, his most blood-stained sword. Everyone believes so. I’ve worked hard to earn that reputation and I should be glad that I have it.

Still, I never expected it’d create such mistrust between me and my cousins that they too, would begin to fear me. That they’d think I’d ever sell their thoughts to the King in exchange for his praise. They couldn't know how often I let my gaze linger on them, searching for them in every corner of the room, desperate to ensure they were alright. Even when I was willing to take their punishments, to do anything to spare them from the wrath of the King when they did something that didn't please him, they still couldn't bring themselves to open up to me.

I regret not attempting harder to alleviate their fears and suspicions. I should have divulged my plans and brought them into the fold of the rebellion.. But I’m ashamed to admit that I was also wary of them, that I was not spared the mistrust and fear that brewed between us daemati children. I kept my walls high and showed them only what they needed to see from me, in fear that they might find my secrets and sell me out.

By the time the rebellion was growing in number, they were already untrusting and I didn’t know how to approach them, to ask them to join me when I also couldn’t penetrate their minds. And I had no way of knowing that they wouldn't stray and betray me. I let the seeds of doubt fester too far that I deemed my only family a potential enemy.

If I hadn't, maybe I could've protected them better. Now they're but mindless husks of their former selves, their souls beyond reach and their memories hazy and fleeting, like wisps of smoke that slip through my fingers every time I touch them. It only took one more torturous experiment to shatter them completely, for another failure on a task that Father was not happy with.

And I watched. Watched as the last spark of their souls left their bodies. What replaced it was dark magic I couldn't understand, merged into one sinister.. thing for Father to keep and shape into whatever twisted image of perfection he liked. Until they are just like him. Just as strong and cruel and… unfeeling. Obedient puppets.

Now they will not even speak to me unless necessary. They do not spare me a glance unless it's to prod into my memories. I know they're long gone at this point. Yet, my heart still aches for the days when Brannagh would reach out for my arm for support during her moments of weakness or when I would correct Dagdan's stance when we spar. Even when they push me away I cannot help but hope that there is a way to bring them back.. once this.. is all over.

And we'd all be free from him. Some day.

Velaria knows of it all. All my yearning, all my dreams and schemes. The weight of an entire country on my shoulders feels a little lighter when I share the burden with her. Velaria is the first friend I've ever made with whom I felt like I could speak freely without planning my words or worrying about keeping my mental shields up. Velaria is the first friend who made me feel like I could truly be myself without consequence, damn the masks and the glamoured hair, the titles and expectations that I long thought would be part of my existence forever.

Velaria feels like the tranquillity of a peaceful night's rest. And when she speaks about the city she's named after she's infectious with her dreams. We sit on the highest spot of the Lighthouse tower, overlooking the endless sea, our feet dangling over the edge while she tells me stories of Prythian. The more she does, the more I find myself yearning to see a glimpse of what a world like that looks like.

A world where the fog doesn't hide the light of the sun or the heaven's brilliant blue. A world where people don't live with golden shackles etched onto their wrists..

I long to see what living looked like. Even for just a moment..

|| Present ||

More decades passed still.

Then some more. But I never let go of the green handkerchief. It is with me now, tied around my wrist as the ashened curse continues to grow up my arm, like the roots of an ill-fated tree. The King planted it on the earth of my body and ever since.. it continued to fester. He calls upon me in his towers to this day, though not as frequently as he did when I was a child, he still does, and it still... hurts.

“Any side effects from this one?” Father asked, his voice cold and detached as I knelt on the cold stone floor, limp and tired, my vision blurred, pipes filled with bright liquid attached to my skin.

I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat as I gather my voice to speak. “It stings around the fingertips... I feel the power... crawling up my arm..” And it was. It was festering more and more and all he did was observe it like a child observing a toy work. "It burns.."

“Has your powers improved of late?” He asks as he paces around the room, a book hovering above his palm.

“I've been... using them on soldiers in training, prying out information. As you've instructed.”

“Any anomalies?”

“No..”

Father had amplified my daemati powers to an unprecedented, almost unrecognizable degree. While I could still read minds and feel the barriers of mental shields, he had altered- no, improved my powers of the mind into something different. My control over the mind can now be invoked through touch, hence the black that's tainting my arms. A perversion. Blasphemy. The Mother would churn at the sight of what I've been made into.

Hours, days, and years I've spent on this tower while he worked to mold my powers to suit his twisted desires. I could now invade a person's emotions, thoughts, and memories through touch - without the need to break down their mental defenses.

This power isn't limited to just living things, I soon found out. When my fingers clung and clawed the stone-cold floor, I could hear the echoing screams of those who had endured torturous experiments before me. When I touched a piece of parchment, I could hear the faint whispers of the author who had written the words upon it. My senses were assaulted by a barrage of sounds and emotions, both past and present, with just a touch. To say that it drove me insane doesn't do justice to the reality. I hear everything, feel everything– so I hid the black that tainted my arms with gloves, only letting them disintegrate when I have need for my bare hands. For my own sanity.

A gift, he calls it. His gift.

It's anything but. It’s a fucking curse.

He takes special pride in making me into what I am. He calls me a clairtangent, a.. one of a kind. His special tool. Yet, my enhanced abilities remained unstable, far from perfected. Which is why I often concealed my hands, why he continues to experiment on me, better me. I've long forgotten what my hands feel like without ancient spells forced into them. I look at them now and they're black, darker than the night sky, and infused with magic unknown to me.

My own body is unknown to me most times. And it frightens me. More often than I’d want to admit. I’m scared of voices, of seeing things that don't belong to me. So much so that I can’t sleep because of it. They come back, the voices, my own and others, haunting me, never giving me a moment's peace. Which is why I have Manann brew me wakingdew elixir, to force my eyes open for a long time. A really.. long time.

Velaria tends to me and the wounds inflicted upon me during experimentation, away from the younger children's prying eyes. I do not wish for them to see me in such a pathetic state.. not when they look up to me.

She often tells me stories of her childhood, of her city, Velaris, the one she's named after. City of Dreams. Fitting, for someone who has many aspirations that fuel her very will to fight to see them fulfilled. She braids my hair and tells me all about the Night Court and how she wishes she could take me one day to see Starfall. I could only close my eyes and imagine what it'd look like and dream that one day... I might see it with her.

She braids my hair slowly, willing me to sleep with her stories but she already knows I do not sleep. I cannot. Not when nightmares await me on the other side of consciousness. So I sip my elixir quietly as she tells her stories, her voice proving to be just as soothing as any sleep one could take.

She tells me of Prythian, the neighboring island that I know so little of. She tells me of the Day Court, with its splendid cities and towering libraries. She tells me of the Dawn Court which she has not visited much. She said that I remind her of Dawn warriors, peregrines, with their big feathered wings, though colorful unlike mine. She tells me of the Winter Court, so bright in the morning that the light reflects the snow and blinds you. She tells me of Autumn Court, with their forests lush and orange, and in her words: “Smells like fresh afternoon rain.” She tells me of the Summer Court with its clear beaches and sandy shores. She tells me that she finds it funny that despite me living on an island, on a Lighthouse just above cliffed coasts, I do not know how to swim. And she threatens that if we ever get the chance she'd take me to Summer and throw me in the ocean to teach me how.

“Tell me about Spring..” I ask her and I feel her pause to think.

Velaria does not know that I'm mated to Tamlin. No one knows. It is the one thing I’ve kept from her. A secret that solely belongs to me.

She hums as she strokes my hair with a brush. “Spring is.. nice.” She said, “Full of.. flowers.. Lush green forests, pretty meadows. Lots of bugs though.” She chuckles. “I don't know much about the Court. But Tamlin is.. nice.” She looks down and I couldn't see her face on the mirror before me.

“He used to be friends with my brother. Though.. after everything that happened, I’d assume not any more of course.”

“Were you friends with him?”

“We spent time together when he was allowed to leave his Court to visit ours, sure. But it was Rhys who was close to Tamlin. Sometimes, he'd tell me about how he'd visit Spring without the High Lord knowing..”

“What is he like?”

Velaria thought for a while, perhaps confused. It’s the first time I'm asking her about a person and not a place.

“He's.. kind. Way kinder than his older brothers. Way kinder than his father. From what I've been told he's a great fighter. Rhys would always talk about wanting to spar with him. That is why Tamlin knew of the Illyrian camps. Rhys would take him once or twice.”

“Do you have anger towards him?” I ask.

“I did. But now.. now I'm just conflicted..” She sighs. “You showed me what happened that night. While his father was cruel, he didn’t expect them to go so far as to actually.. kill my family. He protected me from his brothers. He begged you to take me away..”

“He did.”

“But my parents are dead either way.”

“Do you have anger towards him..?” I repeat the question.

She looked at me through the mirror, a frown on her face.

“I have no anger for anyone, maybe save for your father, Niamh.” She said, “Anger won’t change what happened, won't bring back the dead. And it wasn’t Tamlin’s hands that forced a blade to take my mother’s head and wings. On the contrary. It was Tamlin’s hands that trembled as he cradled my body and whispered his regrets, his apologies.”

Velaria sighs, a look of contemplation on her face while she continues to braid my hair. “And begged for you to take me to safety.”

“He killed your father.”

“And my brother killed his mother. They both suffered tragedies and let their anger and vengeance control them in those final moments before they ascended to their thrones, I have no doubt.”

“Which is a pity.” Vel looked down. “They were.. such good friends before. Rhys planned to reveal Velaris to Tamlin at one point, to show him the escape he deserved from his cruel home. Which meant he really trusted him. He must’ve felt so betrayed. I cannot imagine what went on that night you took me to Hybern, to avoid.. all that.”

She paused and tilted her head to fully look at me on the reflection. “You never really told me.. what would've happened if you stayed in Spring. If you had agreed to take on my Father's wrath. If you.. had finished the experiment they laid out for you.”

I paused for a moment to think, my hands unconsciously fidgeting. “I showed you the northern territories, didn't I?”

Velaria nods. “Yes. It's a wasteland. Nothing is left besides those who'd dare to live there.”

“Before my growing rebellion, that place used to be home to a secret league that planned to stand against the King. The villages were all in on it. Father found out and had them snuffed out.”

“Let me guess, he had you do it?”

“Yes. But I refused. Because I couldn't bring myself to wipe out an entire territory. I was still in my youth. Recklessly believing that I could defy him without being smart about it...”

My gaze falls to my hands free of their gloves. I still remember every second of that night.

“You had no choice..”

“I had no choice because he took control of my body and made me do it. When I gained back control, the territories were leveled into nothing. Just.. a huge chunk of land flattened because of what he made me unleash.”

“Niamh..” I felt her hands gripping my shoulders, their grasp firm yet comforting, like an anchor preventing me from being swept away into the currents of those memories.

“He told me that is what I should aspire to become. And that one day he will get rid of all the flaws in me that came in the way of that monster. For years he's been molding me so that I might summon that kind of power at will, without him forcing it out of me.”

“And for years, I've been suppressing it. Willing it to stay hidden. I never want to go through that again.” I never want to wake up like that again. My entire body was the same shade as the scarlet moon above me. I smelled death at every turn when he let go of my consciousness. And even when I cried and vomited on the floor of the earth, I still couldn't believe that my hands had done such atrocities.

I don't sleep just because of it. In fear that I'd open my eyes to that ever again.

“He agreed to send me to Spring in hopes that I'd be able to unleash that power. Lord Callan was curious to see it for himself and Father finally allowed himself to indulge him. Sending me like that... I don't know if I would've been successful in killing your Father. But I would've leveled Spring into nothing.”

My voice was reduced to whispers as I continued, “And I would have regretted it all my life...”

Velaria tenderly rubs my arms, attempting to soothe me. Her chin rests upon my shoulder, her gaze locked onto our reflections in the mirror, her eyes betraying a silent apology for ever bringing up the topic. I shake my head softly, offering a smile in response—letting her know silenty that none of my misfortunes were her fault..

“I cannot fault Tamlin for what happened. I know..” She mutters. “I know now how hard it is to have your life be in someone else’s control. To never be able to disobey their orders, to exist solely as a puppet, dancing to the whims of a controlling figure, even when that figure is your own father.”

She leaned back, gently resuming the braid she had momentarily stopped working on, her slender fingers deftly weaving my hair. “You two are similar in that regard.” She says, and I stop breathing for a second.

“Besides... the horrors of that night led me to meet you... So, it’s not that much of a loss, is it?”

“That is.. not a very good conclusion, Vel.”

“Meeting you is a very good conclusion. And knowing about your father's schemes to steal the Cauldron to break the wall and invade is very much.. a needed revelation to me. I told you my reasons before.”

“I know..”

“So don’t ever say that meeting you was a mistake or a waste of time. I’ll miss my parents dearly, Niamh. But I’ll forever thank the Mother for granting me a sister not a second after.”

My heart warmed at her words. “You hated me at first, I’ll remind you.”

Velaria grins. “No person could hate you. Not for long.”

“Amarantha would beg to differ.”

“I said person. People. Not the fucking she-devil herself.”

I laugh at that.

“I guess I have Tamlin to thank for handing me to you..”

A warm smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Perhaps I ought to as well..”

There are many things I wish to tell him. So many. And yet, when I imagine him standing in front of me, words elude me. Not even a simple "hello" can find its way past my lips.

I looked to the side, remaining silent as I pondered. He must be struggling. Amarantha breathes in his neck, cornering him into submission. And yet, from what I hear, he does not falter, he does not submit to her. For that, I commend him. Admire him, even if it's from far away.

“You seem interested in him.” Velaria comments.

“I just wanted to hear your thoughts on him. He is the reason why we are where we are now..”

She hums. “He is. But you.. you look especially worried.”

I paused for a moment, finding the words to say. “You know I knew him. Way before all this. His father was allied to mine, they shared the same burning hatred for mortals. They'd attend Hybern balls and meetings. I'd see him by his father's side, tormented by his siblings, harassed by Amarantha way before she took over Prythian.”

I inhaled. “He was just a boy.”

“And that wicked female torments him still. I cannot stand it..” I mutter. “I can't even reach out to him, to comfort him and assure him that you're safe, that I've lived up to my promise. If he.. If he even remembers..” Does he even remember me?

“I'm sure he does..” Velaria reassures me, gently stroking the ends of my hair.

“And one day, when this is all over... I am sure to thank him and mention you. That by saving me, he has also given me a sister—one who is strong, kind, sweet.." She pulls back a strand of silver hair behind my ear. "–..and most beautiful.”

“When this is all over..” I close my eyes. “It is an optimistic thought.” A smile creeps on my face, a bittersweet one.

“It will be over, Niamh. And once it does.. You'll be free and I'll get to fulfill my promise and show you everything Prythian has to offer.”

“I will be counting the days, Vel..” I smiled as I felt her finish the braid, tying it with the green handkerchief Tamlin had given me.

Until then.. I will hold on to my daydreams, my small moments of joy.

— —

A/n: They're honestly is so wholesome, can't wait to expand on them. Oh, the plans I have for Velaria 👁-👁.. Also, I will be doing more Hybern building, I'm really enjoying making up stuff for the place 👉👈

#tamlin x oc #acotar tamlin #tamlin x reader #tamlin #pro tamlin

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fromtheladiesoflight · 25 days ago

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Ladies' Profile: Euphemia Ebenae

(Euphemia's very nature is very much Shadowbringers and Endwalker spoiler territory, so I'm doing the spoiler cut early.)

================================================ Name: Euphemia Ebenae (Euphie to her close friends; the surname is not her original one.) Pronouns: she/her Age: 37 (by physical appearance), approximately 37,214 (on strict chronology) (as of Patch 6.55, The Coming Dawn, born December 13/13th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon) Origin: Ancient (appears as an Ala Mhigan Highlander) Family members: Andronikos (father, deceased), Sophia (mother, deceased), Venat (adoptive mother), Mirita, Khorijin, Rija, Khoride, Ystride (adopted daughters) Height: 193.2cm/6’4” Preferred professions: Yes. (Functionally, whatever professions any of the Ladies learns, she knows as well.) Aetheric alignment: Astral earth

In a time long ago--something akin to a thousand thousand lifetimes, if not longer--a young Ancient whose parents did research on Elpis were returned to the star by pure happenstance, an accident. But 'twas this happenstance that led a woman by the name of Venat to take the child under her wing some years later, whilst said child was in the middle of what you might call a youthful rebellion. With this direction, Euphemia grew into strength and skill both, falling in with two other young Ancients who would rise to the Convocational seats of Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus and eventually proving herself worthy as Venat's successor as Azem. After the recruitment of the new Fandaniel following an incident at Elpis, however, things... changed. The Final Days howled and raged across Etheirys, and with it, the ruin of the star followed, along with the desperate summoning of Zodiark. And--even more tellingly--Venat's final gambit to stop the star from being completely destroyed. A gambit that Euphemia could not abide by, no matter how deeply she loved her second mother. So, she walked away, searching for her own answer, but did not find it before Venat assumed the mantle of Hydaelyn and split the star into fourteen. Through a fluke--or mayhap, simply, the imperfect nature of all things--Euphemia herself was not sundered evenly across all reflections. The Source in particular had three of her, and though they never rejoined in one body, they eventually did as a family of choice--that of Mirita Ebenae, Khorijin Borlaaq, and Rija Muscadet. Eventually, these three, alongside Khoride and Ystride, stumbled across a memory crystal made by Emet-Selch in memory of Euphemia. Its magic served them well from there on, but it was Hydaelyn's final blessing upon it at the Mothercrystal that awoke Euphemia's shade--their stray thoughts of just *who* they were in the time before gave form to her formlessness, drawing what remained of her from the memory crystal, the lingering memories in their souls, and the aetherial sea around them. Revived in an initially immaterial state, she remained a passive watcher, hidden from sight, until the Ladies arrived at the very edge of the universe, at which point she finally manifested herself in full, gave a final farewell to her dear friends Hythlodaeus and Emet-Selch, and served as final witness to the end of the Endsinger and Zenos before choosing a new journey alongside her "shards"--or, as she would soon come to regard them, her precious and beloved daughters. Aspects of who Euphemia is, not just in appearance but also in personality, can be seen in Mirita, Khorijin, and Rija in different ways; she appears as an Ala Mhigan Highlander because of Mirita, but has Khorijin's eyes and has Rija's highlights, all physical features she had before reviving. However, other aspects of the traits she shares with all of her daughters becomes apparent the longer one comes to know her--she has Mirita and Rija's respectively cheerful and alluring playfulness, as demonstrated by her tendency to pretend to know less than she does in service of a jest, and shares both Khorijin and Ystride's quiet reserve as well as their cool heads, and while she rarely makes use of it, Khoride's imposing sense of authority and power easily shrouds her even when it seems it shouldn't. She is, however, Ancient, and while she does not share Hades's fixation on the past--she has long accepted that their own pride and hubris is what ended their time as the star's stewards, especially given the role society played in Hermes' isolation--she tends to reminisce from time to time about what she has lost in less cheerful moments, though her daughters always draw her from her funk.

By nature of her existence, Euphemia is connected to the Ladies in the same way that Khoride and Ystride are to Khorijin--as a result, between her own experience as a combatant and her ability to draw upon their experiences in turn, Euphemia is a master of might and magic alike. A Samurai's blade, a Monk's fists, a Warrior's axe, and even the likes of Black, White, and Red Magic or any combat arts beyond her time--none are beyond her reach, if she so chooses. On the battlefield itself, she moves and strikes decisively, maneuvering with Mirita's casual power and speed, Khorijin's unerring precision, and Rija's agility, but to a degree that none of them can match individually, and while she cannot wield creation magic as casually as the likes of an Unsundered Ancient, her well of aether is equally a match to her daughters' collective own, and a little bit more.

#final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #profiles of the ladies of light #ffxiv glamour #ffxiv screenies #ffxiv gpose #euphemia ebenae #shadowbringers spoilers #endwalker spoilers

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