#possibly hinting that her mother also had that power

[alexiethymia]

my favorite twilight is the one who can’t help but go gooey over his family😫

[wingedshadowfan]

do y'all not even realize jinx altered caitlyn's entire arc by kidnapping her and that bcuz of it caitlyn had a good enough reason to hate jinx before jinx even bombed the council and killed her mother in the process??

yes, jinx kidnapped her but it was heavily implied jinx kidnapped her from her fucking bathroom. i'm sorry but how fucking terrifying is that? the one place where you're at your most vulnerable, literally naked. then, jinx must've forcibly dressed caitlyn up in her enforcer uniform (you can argue she just politely waited in a corner for caitlyn to finish showering and get dressed but it was late evening and caitlyn had nowhere to go and no reason to put her uniform on after a shower, and even if you claim jinx allowed her to get dressed herself - why the fuck would caitlyn choose her uniform, considering who was kidnapping her), then jinx took her to the undercity and held her hostage there by herself for an entire day before she got silco and vi to join the tea party.

during this time, of course caitlyn would've tried to escape, like did we all see her with that broken wine glass? she was just waiting for a chance. but the fact that she couldn't escape likely means jinx was there with her the entire time (aside from when she was gone for silco and for vi). and what do you think happened between them so that caitlyn wouldn't try to escape during the time jinx was gone? what do you think jinx had done to make caitlyn flinch when she approached her?

we may never know but i'll give you a hint. when jinx tells vi she made her girlfriend a snack, she pulls off the cloche to reveal... a single cupcake.

how would jinx know about that unless she'd forced caitlyn to tell her? vi gave jinx her name. that's what she was, a jinx. of course jinx would've wanted to know what name she'd given caitlyn. but you're so sweet, like a cupcake. of course caitlyn wouldn't have wanted to tell jinx that, not only bcuz of its implication for her relationship with vi but for the fact that it would only make jinx angrier, more insane and more destructive - her only reason to kidnap caitlyn and want her dead in the first place was the fact she thought vi had replaced her with caitlyn. so she somehow got caitlyn to tell her. eventually. if i had to guess how, i'd say jinx waterboarded her - since caitlyn's hair was wet when jinx pulled her chair in, and there's no way it wouldn't have dried since her shower (24hr ago), even though it's also possible caitlyn was so scared and nervous that it was sweat.

and unless i'm mistaken, vi doesn't call caitlyn cupcake again up until after caitlyn tackles her on the border of the noxian camp. so perhaps vi connected the dots after seeing the cupcake and this became yet another thing she felt guilty for her sister doing to caitlyn, or perhaps there just hadn't been an appropriate moment to be flirty again after caitlyn's literal mother died. but vi hasn't called caitlyn cupcake again since. and, metaphorically and only half-jokingly, caitlyn stopped being sweet. the caitlyn we knew from season one was gone. and i hate to say it, because i strongly advocate that vi calling caitlyn cupcake is not what made her decide to betray ambessa, but it had a grounding power over her and i wonder if it would've made a difference in caitlyn's choices if vi had done it sooner. if she'd been reminded sooner of who she was, and what vi meant to her.

[littlelovelunette]

Catching Up

Mother!Ambessa Medarda x Childhood Friend!Reader

Concept.

Sex with actual plot, praising, strap, dacryphillia if you squint, Ambessa has a bush, implied aftercare, not proof read im sorry.

It was a silly crush, you told yourself. But was it really? You dreamt of being her woman. You dreamt of being her queen, to serve as the General's trophy wife would even suffice. But your heart broke into a million tiny pieces when you heard the news that she got pregnant with Mel. She'd once again slept with a guy, and this was the symbol of it, and although you didn't resent her for it— the heartbreak in your chest lingered.

Ambessa questioned you, "Why are you leaving Noxus all of a sudden? We grew up here!"

You sighed, eyes downcast, "I'm sorry, 'Bessa."

Ambessa wanted to yell at you, urge you to stay but she knew she didn't have that authority nor right over you. So instead she placed a hand over your shoulder, "Let me know if you ever need anything."

You looked up at her finally, "And you take care of yourself," your voice was choked from the sob building in your throat, your eyes shifted to her baby bump, "And your baby."

With your entire family on board with the decision, you left Noxus and moved into Piltover. It barely helped with the heartbreak but being away from Noxus... You slowly started to move on from Ambessa. But oh the woman that she was— strong, powerful, the right bit of feminine and she always knew whatever she wanted. The only person who knew about your feelings was your elder sister, Rosette.

"I still can't believe she settled for a daughter." Rosette said, pouring you a mug of coffee, "With a man," she snorted in disgust.

"Yeah... Men." You mumbled, taking the coffee with a silent 'thanks' before tossing two pieces of bread in the toaster. "Still bummed out. You'd think I gave her all the hints a lesbian can possibly give."

"Not your fault, sis," Rosette sighed, "Well, hey, maybe you can fall in love with the enforcers here instead, you seem to have a thing for those kinda people," she teasingly nudged your shoulder.

"Are you suggesting I'm a badge bunny?" You rolled your eyes with a scoff, "The enforcers here look like dogshit. Well, at least in my opinion."

"I get that," Rosette sat down opposite you, peeling an orange, "Well, you better finish up breakfast fast if you want to go for work."

"Mhm," you hummed, taking a mouthful of coffee and taking the toast out of the toaster gingerly. They were very hot.

"Hey, sweethearts," your mother emerged downstairs, setting down the newspaper she held in her hands, "Did you know Ambessa is coming to Piltover? Her daughter Mel has also grown so much, I've heard she's a Councilor."

You spat out your coffee. "What!?" Your eyebrows furrowed and you ripped the paper away from your mother's hand, reading it over and over. The one line that said that Ambessa was rumoured to come to the Piltover for... Confidential reasons.

"Do you want to go meet her?" Rosette asked, "I could always call your boss and tell him you're at bedrest and sick."

You looked at Rosette and then back at the paper. "I... I wanna catch up with her. It's been years... And thanks."

You slowly put the paper down and abandoned the cup of coffee there on the table. Your appetite was suddenly gone, worry replacing your guts. You didn't know if this was a good idea or not. After all, you did have feelings for the woman. Dulled but still there. Even over the span of time that had passed, Ambessa Medarda wouldn't ever leave your heart.

"is she gonna be okay?" Your mother took a seat at the dining table and looked at Rosette.

"I hope." She stared after you as you disappeared into the confines of your room, isolating yourself from your family.

The thoughts in your head were far too loud for your liking and you didn't know how to set this up. Ambessa was the great warlord of Noxus, feared by all and even though you both grew up together— the stark difference of your position as a minimum wage worker Piltovian and hers as a Noxian warlord rubbed you the wrong way.

The shower turned off, and you stepped outside with a towel wrapped around your body. Your eyes hooked on the dress that hung from the hanger limply. It was a mini dress with puff sleeves and a square neckline, adorned with floral designs. Nothing too fancy and nothing too simple.

"You look beautiful." Ambessa said, offering her hand as she led you into the fine dining space she'd asked you to join her for lunch at.

"So do you," you sat opposite her, smiling as you leaned over the desk, "So, how's maternal life treating you?"

"Challenging, but I wouldn't trade it for the world," Ambessa examined the wine in her glass before she sipped it with a very judgemental look in her golden eyes.

You giggled, "I see, still rising to the challenge. You must be very proud of Mel."

Ambessa's jaw set tight and you knew this was a sensitive topic so you didn't press further. Her silence was enough for the both to you to get the gist— it was time to change conversation topic.

"I'm surprised you're not married and settled down already," Ambessa said, glancing at you, "Why's that?"

"I guess my standards are pretty high," you muttered, nervously playing with the ring on your finger, "And... I want someone who cares and cherishes their family as much as I do."

Ambessa's eyebrow raised, but you went on.

"I want someone to really put effort into keeping our future family safe given all the wars and conflicts surrounding us," you rested your head in your hand. "But I guess it's hard to trust people now a days."

Ambessa smirked slightly, taking a slow sip of her wine. "I see."

"So much has happened since I left Noxus," you crossed your legs and giggled, shaking your head, "I never could've imagined how hard it could've been, moving into a place where I knew nobody."

"I always questioned why you left," Ambessa said solemnly before smiling, "I guess, I still question it from time to time."

You wanted to tell her the truth. How it hurt you when you heard she was once again sleeping with a man. You wanted to be the one she'd be with. The one she'd give her time to. You were happy for her. But you weren't happy for you. And it was selfish, so you didn't find the courage to tell her so. You didn't before...

"Do you still... I don't know, hate me for it?" You asked, looking at her through your lashes.

Ambessa chuckled, the sound deep and rich but it held some sort of pain you couldn't place. "Yeah, sometimes."

You reached your hand forward, holding hers. Your thumb rubbed against her knuckles. "'Bessa... There's something I haven't told you all these years, not in letters or in person. I've never... Known how to phrase it and now it's getting harder and harder to contain it..."

"What is it?" Ambessa's eyebrows furrowed, contorting in confusion as she braced herself mentally for whatever bomb you might drop.

"I actually used to like you." You grinned in a giddy way, looking down at your lap, "I used to absolutely fancy you. And it hurt me so much that you were seeing men," you sighed, "But I knew I should've been happy for you, you were so cheerful after you got pregnant with Mel, that's the happiest I'd ever seen you."

Ambessa still didn't say anything so you continued.

"I know, I know. You deserve a better friend. That's why, I decided I'd move away from Noxus so my feelings didn't get in the way of our friendship. And I'm sorry if I hurt you by doing that." You didn't say anything further, staring at her to gauge her response.

"Do you still feel that way?" Ambessa asked, her voice quieter this time. This tone was always only reserved for you. You looked down, not meeting her eyes. Ambessa didn't want to assume, her hand holding your tighter now, she pressed on, "Please, tell me."

You looked at her, blushing immensely. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of your own face before you gave her a subtle, shy nod.

Ambessa gave you a triumphant smile, pouring herself more wine, "I guess, we can take this to the bed chambers then."

You gave her an eyebrow raise, "Is that right?" Your tone took a suggestive edge.

Ambessa's hands were all over you by the time you both made it last the bed chambers. You giggled as she palmed your breasts like a starved animal, nipping at your neck needily. Her big hands encircled around you as she pushed you onto the bed.

"What are you gonna do to me?" You asked, watching as she got up, and started removing each article of her clothing.

"That depends on what you want me to do to you, love." Ambessa answered, reaching to gently unzip your dress, pulling it off your body. You were in a white lingerie underneath. With the way Ambessa gawked at you, as if this was the most shocking sight in the world, you blushed.

"Don't stare..." You giggled shyly and tried to cover yourself. Ambessa blocked your arms from doing so.

"Don't. You're beautiful," she took a breath, "I'm just mesmerized."

You smiled a little, eyes fixed on her gorgeous muscular body. She leaned down and pulled a big red strap from the bedside drawer, putting it on herself.

"'Bessa that's really big," you muttered.

"You'll still take it for me, doll, no?" Ambessa smirked a little and lined the strap against your slit.

"Mhm, I'll take every inch," you said, gasping when the first few inches of the strap slipped into your pussy.

You were no stranger to sex, but the feeling something penetrating you after years of not being touched properly... It was sure interesting. You moaned softly, head tossing to the sight as you tried to take it without breaking a sweat. Ambessa noticed the way you tensed up, her hand resting on the bulge her huge cock produced on your stomach.

"Breathe easy," she rubbed the bulge, golden eyes trained on you as if she'd known your body forever, "In... And out."

You nodded, trembling a little as you tried to breathe deeply. Ambessa slipped the strap out all the way before slamming it back inside with an obscenely loud squelch. You yelped— the sound a mixture of a moan and a squeak. The strap was too big for your tiny hole.

You groaned when she bottomed out, Ambessa's hands squeezing your sides, "There we go, angel, you're doing well for me. Taking all of this big dick."

She cooed at you as if she wasn't splitting you open on her strap. Your tears rolled past your temples and soaked the pillow case as your hand tangled in her hair. "Please, it's too much," you begged.

Ambessa's hips pistoned perfectly, her experience showing as she continued ramming into you, your hole stretched deliciously around her huge silicone cock, slick running down the base of it everytime she pulled out of you. You were so wet, it was no wonder she slipped in so easily.

"Bessa!" You cried out when Ambessa rolled your nipple between her thick fingers, smirking down at your tear-stained face, her pace never ceasing.

Your eyes closed tightly as Ambessa slammed inside your hole again, she was in so deep her pubic hair brushed against your clit, only heightening your pleasure by doing so.

"That's it, my princess." Ambessa said and that was enough to make the coil in your tummy snap. Your back arched off the bed and you squirted all over the strap and Ambessa's abs.

"C-cumming!" You cried out loudly.

"There we go, my beautiful angel," Ambessa cooed in your ear gently easing the strap out of you. "Let's clean up, yeah, princess?"

[fae-cookie-run-madness]

Fluff Ancient x beast au (needs a name, help) MysticxCacao rambles

Just the general ideas/thoughts I have for this more fluffy (heh) beast x ancient au. Please let me know your thoughts and possible names for it.

Mystic Flour x Dark Cacao

I like to think Dark Cacao ended up going to the ivory palace during one of his many adventures, and ended up stumbling across Mystic Flour, trying her best to lean into apathy after being locked in that tree for so long. Mystic Flour doesn’t even try to fight when Dark Cacao first shows up with her soul jam, just sort talks about how useless life is.

Dark Cacao sits down next to her and they just end up talking, and eventually Dark Cacao asks her what she wants to do with her life, a choice she was never given. Mystic Flour says she wants to leave, to not be this perfect prophet that she was supposed to be, but to leave the palace might be walking into a deathtrap. So Dark Cacao offers to lead her off the mountain and protect her till she finds her place in Earthbread (Dark Cacao is also looking for his place in the world so he can relate).

Of course, Mystic Flour agrees to this arrangement and goes with Dark Cacao, eventually the two end up falling in love as they make a place on Earthbread for themselves. They both hold the soul jam of Volition, as it healed as Mystic Flour healed as well. (basically, both have their respective gem but the voice and power is in both). This makes it a lot harder for cookies to sow deceit between them, Affogate cookie doesn’t have any luck. The only one who could possibly have a chance is Shadow milk and he values his life too much to try.

Relationship:

Mystic Flour and Dark Cacao are in a romantic relationship; however most people don’t realize this and it’s the funniest thing to the pair. Like they know the two are married but is it for tax purposes? The two aren’t really physically affectionate, at least not where other cookies can see them, all their actions could easily be read as longtime friends or just general caring for one another. So, there's sort of a debate in their kingdom of if they're in a romantic relationship, if they're just good friends, or maybe they're just business partners who just can run a kingdom very well. One running joke between the two is Mystic always complaining that of all the places Dark Cacao set up a kingdom, it had to be somewhere freezing. (she does not like the cold and is often draped in furs to keep her warm).

Even the fact that Dark Choco is their son doesn’t clear anything up. As again, no physical affection in front of cookies, and how they refer to the other parent (typically a ‘go tell your mother/father) doesn’t help. Dark Choco knows the truth, knowing his mom’s true name (she goes by Pure Flour) and the relationship status of his parents he also plays into this running joke, making hints of wondering when they’ll divorce and all that. He is the heir to the kingdom and there is a debate of which parent is his favorite. It also results in Dark Choco is always able to tell what his parents are thinking even with their poker faces.

Dark Choco came to be:

When the king and queen decided to have a child, they agreed to mostly use Dark Cacao dough, mainly because Mystic feared that if they used too much of her dough, he might inherit powers and would make him a target. However, they used an even mix of their life powder, sense as far as anyone knows, once a cookie is made, it doesn’t matter where their life powder came from, it would shift into their own. 

So Dark Cacao was made mostly with his father’s dough through a small amount of Mystic Flour's dough mixed in, one that was deemed harmless, just enough for him to get some traits from his mother. And his life powder was even mixed.

This results in Dark Choco being a near copy of his father with some traits from his mother. His dough, while darker like most Cacao Kingdom cookies, is a shade or two lighter than his fathers, likely from his mother’s dough mixed in. He also has a bigger section of white hair, while his father has only a streak, he has a full half of his bangs white. Also his red eyes are from Mystic Flour as well (Mystic is an albino, her corruption made her eyes black but after her healing they’ve lightened again). As soon as he was baked, it was very clear both parents love and would do anything to protect their child.

The only time Dark Cacao and Mystic had a disagreement (where other cookies could see) is what future path Dark Choco would take. Dark Cacao saw his interest in weapons and wanted to foster that into becoming a warrior (Note this was because Dark Choco was interesting in the Grapejam sword with the soul jam, Mystic thought this means their son might inherit Volition), Mystic flour wanted him to focus on being a healer, and keep him in the walls of the kingdom, as a warrior will eventually need to leave. Plus his not great eyesight (albino eyes and bright snow) would be more helpful inside. Eventually he studied both, but still wanted to be a warrior, traveling to save and heal people.

However they both agreed that Dark Choco will be limited to the Dark Cacao kingdom for his own safety. Dark Choco doesn’t agree to this, especially since there is so much they could do and or help improve their kingdom outside their borders. Both his parents disagree and forbid it, so Dark Choco opts to run away, finding a fable magical sword to prove himself to his parents.

When Dark Choco brings home this magical sword, Mystic Flour is able to tell something is wrong with it right away. She’s able to stop Dark Cacao rant and pretends to be proud of Dark Choco bringing back the sword before asking to see it. The spirit inside the sword realizes it’s caught and possessed Dark Choco making him attack his father. As Mystic is forced to heal her husband before he dies, Dark Choco gets his body back and runs because the voice in his head tells him to. Mystic Flour yells for her son to be stopped and that curse sword ripped away from him but he’s able to escape. So, there is no exile, in fact the Watchers are told to bring back Dark Choco alive and hopefully burn the sword that’s been possessing him.

Dark Choco and Cookies of Darkness.

Dark Choco was on the run for a while, the sword possessing him to move and get out of the kingdom. However, one day a random villager notices that he was the missing prince from the Cacao Kingdom and tries to take him to the rulers in charge. In a panic, magic surge through the prince and the villager was reduced to flour and nothing more. Dark Choco is horrified, thinking it’s a new thing from the sword, and begins to ramble to himself.

Pomegranate, who saw everything, comes out of the shadows and offers help; she knows of someone who could possibly remove this power from the prince. However, her help doesn’t come free. And Dark Choco ends up working for the cookies of darkness with the promise that Dark Enchantress will free him from this curse.

Yet after reducing this curse blade to flour, Dark Choco realizes that Dark Enchantress isn’t focusing on finding a way to get rid of the flour curse. So Dark Choco tries to run away, key world being tried. Dark Enchantress has realized just how valuable someone with that power is and has kept Dark Choco against his will fighting for the cookies of darkness, using a mixture of spell, hallucinations and potions to keep him on their side. Of course, that’s until the gingerbrave gang free him.

Andddd that's all I got so far

[edenesth]

TWTHH Bonus: Star of the Show

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: In case you haven't already read Honeymoon Avenue (the first bonus chapter), it's probably better to check that out before reading this. Also, please be warned that this contains a slight spoiler to Wooyoung and Hongjoong's spinoffs.

Honeymoon Avenue | Fic Masterlist

"Your wife is with child."

The words echoed in the general's mind long after Yunho had uttered them. You remained unconscious in his room, undergoing a more thorough examination. Seonghwa had been asked to leave while you were attended to. He felt a wave of relief knowing that, according to the physician, your fainting spell was simply your body's way of compensating for the exhaustion caused by the demands of the little one growing inside you.

"Don't worry, everything will be okay."

"I'm counting on you, Yunho," he recalled telling the doctor before exiting his private quarters, his gaze lingering on your still, pale figure nestled under the covers.

"When have I ever let you down, my lord? She'll be fine, the baby will be fine; your family, they'll be just fine."

Realising there was no use lingering outside while the physician and his team of servants were busy examining you—his presence wouldn't change anything—he decided to occupy himself elsewhere while he waited. However, returning to his study seemed impossible; he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

As if with a mind of its own, his feet carried him toward the House of Lotus. His heart warmed at the familiar sight of the pavilion facing the lotus pond, your favourite spot, once empty but now furnished with a small table, cosy cushioned seats, and decorative lanterns. It was a testament to the time you two spent together there. He could never tire of being there with you, and the mere thought of spending eternity like that was more than enough to fill his heart with joy.

Soon, it wouldn't just be us two.

Deciding not to sit alone without you, he opted to enter your quarters instead, where every corner held a piece of you. He softened as he opened the door and spotted your embroidery kit at the centre of the room. You had been deeply invested in the craft ever since Hongjoong had taught you a few techniques, dedicating nearly all your time to it when you weren't occupied with anything else. He remembered finding you diligently working on it late into the night and had to gently coax you to bed with him.

Approaching the items, he settled into your usual spot before going through the designs you had created. A chuckle escaped him as he took in some of your earlier, more clumsy works—clearly, these were from when you first began learning from the dressmaker. As he continued, a smile graced his lips at the gradual improvement in quality. It hinted at the possibility that you had discovered a hidden talent; his friend would surely be proud to see your progress.

However, his movements faltered as he reached the bottom of the pile and discovered what appeared to be a... baby shirt. Realisation dawned on him: had this been your secret project all along? Were you aware of your pregnancy all this time?

Questions flooded his mind, each one more pressing than the last. Why hadn't you told him? Why had you lied and pretended everything was fine when you must have been feeling so sick? Did you not trust him enough to confide in him?

His heart ached with the thought that you might have felt the need to hide something so important from him. It left him feeling a mix of confusion, hurt, and a tinge of betrayal. Had he not made it clear that he was there for you, no matter what?

As he sat there, staring at the tiny garment in his hands, he couldn't help but wonder what reasons you could have had for keeping this from him. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more heartbreaking than the last. He thought back to all the times you had been showing symptoms of pregnancy, and it hurt him to know you didn't feel safe enough to tell him the truth. Was it because you didn't think he would be a good father? What if, deep down, there was a part of you that was still afraid of him? What if—

Before his thoughts could further linger, a knock on the door snapped him out of his train of thought. Turning to see who it was, he allowed entry and found Eunsook standing there with a smile on her face, "The mistress is awake, master," she announced. With that, all his previous worries were momentarily swept from his mind. Only you mattered as he quickly rose from his seat and dashed towards his room to see you.

Rushing into the room, Seonghwa's heart raced as he laid eyes on you, sitting up on his bed with Yunho standing beside you. Relief flooded him as he saw you speaking softly with the physician, a gentle hand pressed against your stomach.

Oh thank god, she's alright... they're alright.

Moving closer, he couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you. Despite the recent scare, you looked calm and serene, your presence soothing his worried mind. He approached quietly, not wanting to interrupt your conversation with Yunho but eager to be by your side.

As soon as your eyes met, he noticed the hint of moisture gathering in your gaze as you uttered his name, "Hwa..." His heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice, and he quickly moved forward, settling beside you on the bed. Gently, he grasped your hand, brushing strands of hair away from your face and stroking your cheek, "What's wrong, my love? Are you feeling alright?"

You nodded, leaning into his touch and motioning for Yunho to speak on your behalf. Taking a deep breath, the physician began, "Her condition is currently stable, my lord."

Seonghwa furrowed his brow in dread, "I'm sensing a 'but' there."

"But..." the doctor continued, "Due to years of severe malnutrition throughout the lady's childhood, her body lacks many essential nutrients necessary for both her and the baby. This explains her weakness. But fear not, I will do everything in my power to ensure her full recovery. Once we pass the three-month mark safely, the remainder of the pregnancy should proceed smoothly."

"I... I understand. Thank you again, Yunho, for your hard work. It seems we'll need your frequent visits for the next few months," the general acknowledged, offering a grateful nod to his friend.

"No problem, my lord and lady. I'll ensure Eunsook receives all the necessary information for the mistress' care. Please excuse me, I should get started on the preparations immediately."

Once Yunho had left and you were alone together, your husband turned his attention back to you. Squeezing your hand gently, he couldn't shake the image of the baby shirt from his mind. He knew he had to address it. Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss on your forehead before delicately broaching the subject, "I... I have a question."

You responded in a soft voice, returning the squeeze of his hand, "What is it, Hwa?"

"My love, have you been aware that you were pregnant all along?"

As your gaze met his, he rested his forehead against yours, seeking to reassure you, "It's just... I was going through your embroideries earlier and I saw it—the baby shirt."

You let out a soft sigh, nodding, "Yes, I... I had a feeling, and I've been preparing myself to tell you about it, Hwa. But I just didn't know how to say it. I was scared of your reaction." When he attempted to pull away, you reached out, cupping his face to keep him close, "Listen to me, I'm not afraid of you. I... I know you've never had a proper family growing up—both of us, actually—and... I can't help but wonder if you might hate the idea of starting one."

His heart swelled with understanding, realising he had momentarily let his earlier insecurities get the best of him. Of course, you were simply concerned about him. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips before murmuring tenderly, "With another person, I would hate the idea. But with you, my love, I want it all."

Feeling touched by his words, you realised you had never needed to overthink the situation. You should have known that his love and acceptance were unwavering.

Perhaps you had just been overwhelmed by the idea of a tiny life growing inside you—a product of your love with Seonghwa. The thought of having a baby, your baby, filled you with joy and apprehension. Neither of you had experienced a conventional family upbringing, and you feared whether you could provide the love and care this child deserved. Since the first moment you felt sick and figured you might be pregnant, endless questions floated around your mind.

Were you ready?

Was he ready?

What if he didn't want children?

But now, those fears seemed unfounded. As tears welled in your eyes, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and buried your face against his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace. He held you close, peppering kisses all over your head, his love and warmth enveloping you. Through your tears, you whispered, "I love you, Hwa."

You could feel his smile against your skin as he leaned his head against yours, his voice soft and reassuring, "I love you more, my wife, and that'll never change."

In the days that followed, you found yourself hardly ever alone. Your husband seemed determined to stay by your side every moment, as if he hadn't already been doing so since he dismissed all his friends. Now, he was even more attentive and vigilant, always ensuring he was nearby to keep watch over you. And whenever he needed to retreat to his study for brief meetings with Jongho, Eunsook remained faithfully by your side.

Today was another one of those days when he had no choice but to attend to some work. He hadn't been attending the daily assemblies for a while, so the least he could do was go through some reports to stay updated on the latest happenings in court.

Meanwhile, the head maid remained by your side in your room. You sat with a cookbook in your hand, diligently trying to learn new recipes. As the saying goes, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and although you already had a hold on Seonghwa's heart, you were determined to work even harder to keep it safe with you.

"You've been quite busy lately, mistress, with cooking and embroidering. I think the master might be getting a bit jealous that you're not as focused on him as you are on these tasks," she joked, gently brushing your hair as she observed your focused expression.

With a playful giggle, you shot her a glance, "Is he really? Well, everything I do, I do it to be a better wife for him and a better mother to this little one," you said, smiling down at your growing bump.

Eunsook's expression softened, "I'm just kidding. I'm sure the master knows that," she reassured before pausing, "Mistress, have you both thought about baby names yet?"

At that, your eyes widened, and you set down the book in your hands, "Oh dear, we haven't. I've been so invested in everything else, it seems I might have overlooked the most important thing."

She chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly, "Don't worry, you still have plenty of time until the little one is born. Perhaps you and the master could start thinking about it now."

Later that night, as you lay in bed next to your husband, the words of the head maid lingered in your mind like a persistent whisper. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on your eyelids, you found yourself unable to sleep as your thoughts drifted towards potential names for the future baby Park. Each name you considered brought with it a flood of emotions and images of what your child might look like, how they would grow, and the kind of person they would become.

Sensing your slight movements, Seonghwa kissed your head softly, his voice gentle, "Are you still awake, my love?"

You grinned sheepishly, patting his chest, "I'm fine, Hwa. You go ahead and sleep. You must be tired."

But he sighed, gently sitting up with you still in his arms, ensuring the comforter covered you, "Not as tired as you. You're carrying a little person. Now, do you want to tell me why you're still not sleeping?"

Smiling shyly, you met his gaze, "I was talking to Eunsook earlier and realised... we haven't thought of any baby names."

His mouth formed an 'O' in realisation, mirroring your surprise. It seemed he, too, had not given it much thought. Nodding slowly, he whispered, "That's right, we haven't," pulling you closer to him, he relished the way your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, "So, what do you have in mind then? Have you managed to come up with anything with all that thinking, hm?"

You replied, nervously nibbling on your lip, "Actually, I have thought of a name. If it's a girl, Yeonjoo feels right."

He hummed, considering deeply, "Yeonjoo... like a lotus princess?"

You beamed, "Exactly. She'd be our little princess, growing up in the House of Lotus."

His heart swelled; your choice held significance. It wasn't just a random pretty name; it carried depth. Planting a kiss on your cheek, he smiled, "It's perfect. So, if it's a girl, Yeonjoo it is."

You cheered, "Okay, any ideas for a boy?"

He hesitated, then brightened, "You know what? I do have one in mind, though it might not be as thoughtful as yours. How about Jiyeong? It means a wise and brave hero, and it could also symbolise a flower petal, like the lotus. It'd be wonderful if he grew up to be intelligent and brave enough to protect his eomma," he murmured, gently placing his hand on your bump and stroking it.

"I think Jiyeong is a wonderful choice, Hwa, if it's a boy," you whispered, a sense of relief washing over you now that you finally had names for your child.

Covering his hand on your stomach with yours, you looked up at him with slightly wet eyes, "Gosh, can you believe we're going to be parents in a few months?"

"It's surreal sometimes, my love. And I'll admit, I am a little scared. But I know we'll manage. It won't be easy, but as long as we face it together, we'll be fine."

Yes, I know we will.

The first three months seemed to pass in a whirlwind, with Yunho's weekly visits becoming a familiar routine. Each time, he checked on your condition and brought herbs to boost your health and stabilise the pregnancy, ensuring everything progressed smoothly. Amidst this, life outside your little family continued to unfold.

You recall a particular evening when Wooyoung rushed in, desperate for your husband's aid to rescue a certain Miss Han. In a matter of weeks, she became a temporary resident in your household while still courting the private investigator. Her presence was delightful as she eagerly assisted you in cooking and embroidering, all while awaiting Wooyoung's eventual proposal that would take her away.

And through him, you learned of Hongjoong's latest job, assisting the youngest miss of the Baek family. It appeared to affect the dressmaker unexpectedly, stirring emotions no one had anticipated, especially him, even requiring a little nudge from both Seonghwa and Wooyoung to realise his feelings.

Before you knew it, you found yourself seated in the dining hall, surrounded by your husband's friends. Giving your hand a squeeze, Seonghwa cleared his throat to grab their attention, "Guys," he began, "we've gathered you all here today because we have an announcement to make."

Hongjoong, arms crossed, chimed in, "Pssh, I had a feeling. I knew you wouldn't be treating us to a meal for no reason."

Yunho's knowing grin widened, excited to see the dressmaker's reaction while Wooyoung leaned forward excitedly in his seat, nudging San beside him, who smiled back but inwardly wished the investigator would leave him alone. Mingi promptly set down his wine glass, eager to hear what was to come.

"I hope you're all excited because you're going to be uncles soon," the general announced, prompting cheers from everyone at the table.

The lovely Miss Han, seated beside you, wasted no time in giving you a side hug, though she had already been privy to your little secret. She had even been considerate enough to keep her man in the dark about it.

Wooyoung joined in the celebration, clapping enthusiastically, oblivious that his other half had been aware the whole time, "I knew it! I could tell she was pregnant from my first visit all those months ago. You've been so oddly careful with her ever since!"

At that, Hongjoong's expression darkened, "What do you mean, all those months ago? How far along are you, my lady?"

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, "Three months."

The dressmaker's jaw dropped in disbelief, "You didn't think to tell us until now? Park Seonghwa, what kind of friend are you?"

Yunho scoffed and rolled his eyes, "See, that's why you're an idiot. What does Miss Baek even see in you, I'll never know. Obviously, they wanted to wait until her condition was stable before telling everyone. Why do you think I've been so busy for the past few months?"

Hongjoong shot him a glare, "Oh, I don't know? Maybe because you've been trying to spend all your time with a certain Miss Ryu?"

The physician sputtered in shock, but before the argument could escalate, Jongho appeared behind them, smacking both on the back, "That's enough, you two. Please continue this another time."

Your husband interjected, shooting the assistant a grateful smile, "That's right. As Yunho mentioned, we just wanted to wait until it was safe before telling you guys."

San and Mingi softened, offering heartfelt congratulations to you and Seonghwa, prompting the rest of the guys to do the same. However, the peace was short-lived. Wooyoung eagerly raised his hand, "Ooh, can I please be the godfather?"

The dressmaker was quick to object, "Excuse me? If anyone here is to be the godfather, it's obviously me! Know your place, you fool."

"Oh, dear god, here we go again," your husband muttered beside you.

You couldn't help but grin at their endless shenanigans, glancing down at your stomach and rubbing it affectionately. You already knew this baby would be spoiled rotten even before entering the world. It seemed this little one was already the star of the show.

I contemplated how much of the pregnancy I should cover, but I think I'll only do this much for now! Because any further than this, and that might spoil some of the other members' spinoffs. I shall focus on finishing up all the rest of the stories after this, and who knows? There could be more bonus chapters in the future, we'll see~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/6): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[sansaorgana]

— CHRYSALIS (I)

PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Vala/half-Elf!Reader (Morgoth's Daughter)

SUMMARY — She is no Vala, no Maia and no Elf. Whatever she is remains the most exceptional and undeniably powerful. Morgoth's daughter can either heal Middle-earth or destroy it. Mairon makes a promise to her mother – the one he had once kidnapped for his master – that he would take care of this extraordinary creature but it is no easy task.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It is a bit of a crazy idea, gotta admit, and I probably fucked with canon waaaay too much but bear with me, please! 🤣 I came up with this idea after reading on the Wiki that Morgoth was bound to his physical form, so I assumed he could actually have a child? 🤔 Anyway, in the beginning of this story you get the backstory of Reader's mother and Morgoth. Reader's mother was given a name (Tasarë, which is supposed to mean willow) but her physical appearance is not described (nor is Reader's). That backstory of Tasarë and Morgoth was my idea for another Sauron x Reader fanfic but I couldn't figure out how they could possibly end up together after she develops Stockholm's Syndrome for Morgoth, so I just used the idea in this fic as a backstory of Reader's mother. I also chose this title for the fic because butterflies appear quite a lot in this fanfic and I think the Reader is a bit like a chrysalis as well – nobody knows what will become of her.

WARNINGS — kidnapping, forced marriage, Stockholm's Syndrome (Reader's mother), abusive relationships (Reader's mother with Morgoth AND Reader with Sauron), manipulation, First Age Sauron being his loser self but still trying to get his way as usual, the Reader being half light/half darkness, which results in her acting unhinged at times (she mostly speaks in a dramatic manner lmao)

WORD COUNT — 6,400

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

CHRYSALIS (I)

Tasarë was her name – young Elven girl Mairon saw through the trees in his wolf form. His yellow eyes of the beast were following the way she danced around the fire with her friends, her long hair waving in the wind and her laughter travelling through the cold air of the night.

Perhaps none of this story would happen if she hadn’t looked back, sensing his presence. He could sense from afar the shiver that went down her spine after spotting him and their eyes met – hers filling with fear after realising she had been observed by a werewolf.

Startled by her sensing his presence, Mairon ran away from there to meet with his master who impatiently awaited his report. As usual, Melkor wanted to make sure Mairon was not lying about anything, therefore he allowed himself to sneak into his servant’s mind. And amongst his memories of the battles and schemes, he found the one about the young Elven maiden Tasarë and Mairon’s fascination with her.

“You will bring her to me,” Melkor ordered. “And she will be untouched and unspoiled when she arrives here.”

Mairon nodded. He could not refuse, could he? And he could never defile what belonged to his master, so he obeyed the order completely.

He kidnapped Tasarë away from her village and her pure heart treated him with nothing but kindness throughout their whole journey. She begged him often to let her go and if it depended on him only – he would. He would, in a heartbeat.

Or perhaps he would not. Perhaps he would keep her for himself.

But he knew that he was taking her to her demise. What would Melkor do to her? Each time she smiled at Mairon while bathing in the moonlight, radiating pure beauty and light, he wondered about the pain that awaited her and his heart ached for her.

“When we arrive there, what will happen to me?” She asked once as if she had already accepted the fact she was kidnapped but the details had been kept from her until now.

“You will become a bride,” Mairon informed her and a hint of smile showed on her face, which surprised him.

“Yours?” She inquired. Perhaps such a thought was not as dreadful to her as he would expect – after all the weeks they had spent together, he became the devil she knew, after all.

“My master’s,” Mairon answered and her smile disappeared as her body froze.

“Your master?” Tasarë raised an eyebrow.

“I cannot tell you his name,” Mairon shook his head and she looked up at the night sky with tears filling her eyes.

“Do not then. I believe I know already,” she whispered.

When Mairon brought her to Melkor’s fortress, it was the last time he saw her. The Dark Lord sent him away right after as if he was afraid of the bond forged between Tasarë and his servant.

And when Mairon was back from his mission, Tasarë was not in the fortress anymore. From Melkor’s other servants, Mairon found out that his master sent her away to one of the most secluded castles up in the coldest and loneliest realms of the North. Where she was hidden from everyone and everything and where Melkor could visit her whenever he wanted to. His little bride no one else could even lay their eyes on.

“How can she endure that?” Mairon whispered but the answer he received was even sadder than whatever he had been expecting instead.

“She grew to love him. She had no other choice.”

Many long years had passed since that time and Mairon never expected to see Tasarë again but Melkor sent him – his most loyal servant – to his most secluded and hidden fortress to carry a very important message to his lover. Mairon was supposed to be a messenger and he tried his best not to show his enthusiasm too much because it could worry and alarm his master.

It was not pure joy or excitement, however, no. It was also a curiosity with a bit of anxiety at the thought of what could be left of Tasarë after all the centuries of being Melkor’s bride.

The journey was long and boring – there was nothing around but vast land of white snow and dried out trees. The place where she was being kept was the most secluded and the loneliest he could imagine. He wondered if it was still in the same dimension because the longer he travelled, the more he felt as if he was crossing a bridge from one world to another.

He spotted the castle first – enormous and black with tall towers shaped as if they were spikes. It contrasted with the white land of endless snow although the weather was dark and gloomy. Days were short here if they existed at all.

As he travelled through the snow, nearly effortlessly due to the fact he was a Maia, therefore the cold was not his enemy, he spotted something that made him furrow his brows – footsteps on the snow.

They belonged to a person – a female, he assumed, judging by the size. Was it possible that Tasarë was not as obedient to Melkor as her lover had been suspecting? After all, she was not supposed to ever leave the castle’s walls.

Mairon followed the traces with his heart pounding in his chest, awaiting to see her again but then he froze at the sight of a young woman sitting on the snow nearby one of the castle’s back doors, under a leafless tree with ice-decorated branches.

The young woman was certainly not Tasarë although she resembled her a little. Her ears were pointed but Mairon could feel even from afar that she was no ordinary Elf. She was a creature much more powerful and when he squinted his eyes, he noticed that flowers were growing under her hands and butterflies were flying around her as she laughed. She could not only bend the world to her liking but she could also create new life. She was no goddess, though, of that he was sure.

She was no Elf, no Maia, no Vala. What was she, he wondered…?

When she turned around for a moment while looking at the butterflies, his heart froze in his chest. Her face was… terrifying.

It was undeniably beautiful but gruesome at the same time. Whoever would stare at her for too long, could risk being turned into a stone. There was only one as godly beautiful as scary to the point of no one being able to look at his face for too long and Melkor was his name.

“Who are you? Why are you hiding there?” The young woman asked as a butterfly sat on her hand and she batted her snow-covered eyelashes while looking in the direction of Mairon who was hiding behind a huge rock covered with ice.

“I… Forgive me,” he cleared his throat and stepped out, bowing his head slightly and she chuckled.

“Your hair resembles fire,” she pointed out. “Are you here to burn me?”

“I don't even know who you are,” Mairon confessed. “I am here for Lady Tasarë,” he explained and the girl pouted.

“Sad,” she shrugged her arms. “I hoped that finally some adventure would happen to me. Do you know I have been living in this castle ever since I was born? A whole century!” She whined. She was an adult already but still very young and considering the fact she did not know the real world, it was understandable that she was still like a child in many ways. “Is there anything else except for the snow?”

“There is,” Mairon assured her and crouched down next to her as he pointed at the butterfly on her hand. “You create such things. Flowers, butterflies…”

“Oh, but they…” She looked down sadly and then she looked up again to meet his gaze but with so much mischief in her eyes that a shiver travelled down Mairon’s spine at how terrifying she truly was. “I bring them to life only to die. Look, they’re drying out already in the cold. I give them life and they suffer because of my whim,” she informed him without any emotion whatsoever.

“Why then?” Mairon inquired.

“Because I am selfish,” she answered. “I destroy.”

“You can heal, too,” Mairon assured her and reached out to help the dying butterfly. “Look,” he focused on giving away some of his energy to make the butterfly regain its strength and the young woman’s eyes sparkled as she laughed.

“You fed him with your own spirit,” she noticed. “Why do you think I would let any parasite feed off of me? Who would be ever worthy of sharing my power?” She asked and Mairon’s mouth opened slightly as he was thinking of an answer but they were interrupted by another woman walking out of the castle through the back door.

“(Y/N),” familiar but horribly changed voice caused his facial muscles to twitch out of nervousness. “You are forbidden from going outside. How many more times do I have to say that?”

“You’ve no control over me. I am my own storm; my own thunder,” the girl named (Y/N) stood up angrily.

Mairon stood up as well and straightened his back as he clasped his hands and kept staring down, not daring to look up before being addressed.

“Stop being dramatic and go back inside,” Tasarë sighed and (Y/N) groaned out of frustration before going inside the castle. “Mairon,” the Elf finally called his name and he raised his head.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Her kin was known for staying forever young, yet she aged in the most peculiar way. The corruption and rot had spread throughout her and there was nothing but a shell of her old self now. In a way, she reminded Mairon of the fallen Elves that Melkor had taken to turn into the Uruks but she remained more beautiful than them and she was not covered with any scars.

Because it was not his torture that had damaged her but his love. Everything about him was destructive and deadly.

The young Elven maiden dancing innocently around the fire in the moonlight was long gone. The woman standing in front of him was a mockery of her old self. 

“Stop pitying me, Mairon,” she snarled at him with contempt. “Did he send you here or were you a fool to give in to your urges to find me and check on the state of me?” She asked.

“He sent me,” Mairon answered. “I have a message.”

“Come in then,” Tasarë pointed at the doors and he went inside the castle. It was as dark and cold on the inside as on the outside.

Tasarë led him to the big room where (Y/N) was sitting as well. She was reading a manuscript by the fire and looked up with a wicked smile at the sight of them.

“Leave us,” Tasarë ordered and the young girl clenched her jaw out of anger before walking out.

“Who is she?” Mairon asked in a whisper.

“You know who she is. You suspect. The answer is yes,” Tasarë sat by the table and reached her hand out for him to hand her the message.

Mairon did so but his brow remained furrowed. Well, it was possible for his master to become a father – as wicked as it sounded – but he was now bound to the form of his flesh. That was the very reason why he was avoiding taking part in his battles despite some accusing him of cowardice. And for a Vala, being bound to the form of your flesh also meant that you could reproduce.

“Forgive me. I have asked the wrong question,” Mairon interrupted Tasarë as she was reading and she looked up to meet his gaze, irritated. “I should have not asked who she was,” he nodded. “What is she?”

“It is hard to tell,” Tasarë answered. “She is like a god but weaker than one. Perhaps a bit like you. She can change her forms and no ordinary blow will slay her. She can create life as you have already seen. She… terrifies me,” Tasarë confessed. “But I love her.”

“Like you love her father?”

Tasarë gave him a scolding look.

“You are asking too many questions, Mairon. He will look through your mind, don’t you know? He will punish you for the fact you have seen (Y/N). That you know about her. That you dared to ask about her and now this… My sweet devil, you must enjoy the pain he is giving you,” she shook her head.

“So do you, apparently,” Mairon did not give up. The punishment would come anyway already, she was right about that.

“It is impossible not to… He is a god,” Tasarë explained as if she was surprised that she had to explain that at all. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be chosen by a god?”

“Not like you do,” Mairon admitted.

Long silence occurred and Tasarë looked around as if she was scared Melkor was right there, spying on them. Because, perhaps he could be. She beckoned Mairon over and he leaned in to hear her words better and her lips nearly brushed his slightly pointed ear as his ginger hair tickled her cheek.

“I have dismissed her to protect you and her from his wrath. You cannot know too much about her but one thing I shall tell you – she is half me, too. Half of the real me. The woman you saw dancing by the fire as a beast; the woman you kidnapped to lay her on his lethal altar and sacrifice her. And now her daughter terrifies me but the amount of her power is so vast… She can heal as much as destroy, my sweet master of deception. And I can see how much healing is what you truly crave,” Tasarë confessed. “Promise me that you will take care of her if anything happens. That you will watch over her. You owe me that. You owe that to the young maiden you took away from her family for him to destroy.”

“I can’t assure you I will be able to tame her,” Mairon breathed out, taken aback by her plea.

“I am not asking you to tame her,” Tasarë shot him a glance. “Don’t you even dare! I am asking you to… accompany her. She is awfully lonely here. She craves to see the world and I am sure the world craves to see her as well for she is a wonder.”

“I will,” Mairon nodded, with all seriousness.

He had seen (Y/N) only for a while but he was drawn to her already. In a way, he understood why Melkor was hiding her from the world. Everyone would be drawn to her. She was the most extraordinary creature. Her enormous power, the light balancing with the darkness within her – the innocence mixed with wickedness. 

He was honoured to be chosen by her mother to be burdened with such a task. And he owed her that favor. 

When Melkor fell and the Valar locked him away, Tasarë followed him even though she was offered mercy. But there was no life for her anymore except for the life next to her lover and she refused to abandon him in the abyss. She volunteered to spend the eternity there with him and the Valar were in awe of her devotion to the point they granted her Elven flesh the possibility of spending her forever alongside Melkor in the dimension of his prison.

The Valar also found out about the existence of (Y/N) and they debated for a long time about what to do with a creature so extraordinary. However, she remained completely innocent so far and the only danger about her was her father’s heritage.

Nienna, She Who Weeps, was (Y/N)’s greatest advocate. And when Mairon was given his second chance to come back to Valinor and face his judgement, they asked him to bring (Y/N) with him because they wanted to meet her – yet the castle she was in remained out of their grasp, which only made Mairon realise that it was truly another dimension that his master had created to hide his lover and offspring in from the world.

And so Mairon went back to that secluded realm in the North, trying to find his master’s daughter. And he found her inside the castle, curled on the floor, in the middle of the biggest room. She seemed to be frozen but she was obviously still alive. He crouched down next to her and touched her shoulder gently, which caused her to stir.

“They abandoned me. Both of them. I shall stay here forever,” she mumbled out.

“Did you not want to see the world?” Mairon asked her gently and (Y/N) looked up at him as she snorted.

“That was a long time ago. My father is defeated now. There is no world for me anymore,” she answered, as dramatically as when he had met her for the first time a few centuries earlier.

“Truth to be told, your father was destroying the world. There would be nothing for you to see if he succeeded. But it is still there, although hurt and bruised. Together, we can heal it,” Mairon offered her his hand.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him, visibly intrigued. She sat up and fixed her hair.

“I promised your mother to watch over you if anything happens. She did not want you to be left alone,” he added to encourage her.

“Why would she ask you out of all?” (Y/N) remained suspicious, doubting his status.

“My name is Mairon. I was your father’s most powerful Lieutenant,” Mairon pointed out, nearly offended that he had to introduce himself to anyone. “Most people know me by a different name, though. It is… Sauron,” he winced a little while saying this.

“The Abhorred,” (Y/N) hummed to herself. “Ah, yes, my mother only spoke of you this way when you were not around,” she added and Mairon pursed his lips, trying not to show his irritation too much. “Well, do you promise me that I will see the world?” She asked as she held his hand, which he still kept extended.

“Yes, I do,” Mairon nodded.

It was never his intention to inform her about the chance the Valar wanted to give them. No, it was not his plan to take her to Valinor and to face their judgement. He had much better plans for the two of them.

Ever since he had seen her for the first time and the promise he had made to her mother, he could not help imagining and plotting them two ruling over Middle-earth. And when Melkor’s defeat had become a question of when instead of if, he had already known that (Y/N) was his future.

Despite the seed of evil deep inside of her – alongside the seed of goodness, of course – she was an innocent being who knew nothing of the real world. He could shape her the way he wished and whatever would come out of her was all in his hands now. In a way, he was a god of this situation – considering she would not be too uncontrollable due to her undeniable power. But which seed would grow within her was up to him entirely. It was his choice which part of her he would water and feed, pamper and spoil.

“We will go everywhere. We will heal and we will conquer. I will take your father’s place amongst the dark creatures of the shadows. I will lead them and I will rule over Middle-earth but you will not be hidden away any longer. No, you will be right by my side,” Mairon promised. He was always good with words and he could see how her terrifying eyes were starting to sparkle at his promises.

“As?” She inquired.

“What do you mean as?” He furrowed his brows.

“As whom? I will be by your side as whom?” (Y/N) explained her question.

“As whoever you wish to be. I am not here to tame you,” he remembered her mother’s words.

No, he was there to use her. To take advantage of her power and to bask in it. To introduce her as Morgoth’s daughter and his right hand, which would convince the dark creatures to follow him more eagerly.

And to have her as his own, to own her, to be the only man able to touch her and look at her. His master’s daughter – she was a prize indeed. Half-goddess he was unworthy of and yet she would eat from his hand.

Those were only bold daydreams that he knew his master and her mother would kill him for but they were far away and he remained out of their reach. 

Because perhaps there was some goodness in him still and that urge to heal the world but at heart he was a predator and a warlord. And even though she still felt like nothing but Melkor’s humbled servant sometimes, he knew that with time he would eventually bloom into his worthy successor. Offering him her daughter while calling out the remains of his softness, Tasarë had not known that she had been giving (Y/N) away to Melkor’s shadow.

“I can sense your greed, Sauron,” (Y/N) squeezed his fingers tighter as if she was trapping him. “But greed is no stranger to me for I have been locked here since birth. I am greedy for life. Selfish for it. And I need your guidance,” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

He saw fire in her gaze – her father’s uncontrollable destruction. Perhaps he should slay her and leave her to rot. Perhaps it would be for the better for the whole of Middle-earth and for him, too. He got scared suddenly that he would never be able to keep her temper and her powers under control.

That not only she would finish her father’s work but she would overthrow him – Mairon himself.

But he could also see the flowers blooming and the sun rising above the green hills – she and she only could turn Middle-earth into a realm as beautiful as Valinor; the place he was no longer welcome.

Mairon helped (Y/N) to stand up and he adjusted her dresses as if he was a maid, getting rid of all the dust.

“Do you think the world will fall on its knees at the sight of me?” She asked without the smallest hint of irony. Nearly innocently she believed that she was the most exceptional and the most special creature. And the worst thing was that she had every right to because she was. 

“I will make sure of it,” Mairon promised her and she smiled.

And when she was smiling, she was resembling her mother the most – the very same kind smile Tasarë had been giving him during their journey to Melkor after he had kidnapped her.

Mairon’s heart clenched at the memory.

From one fortress to another Mairon took her – from one prison to another, (Y/N) would say. They had moved South significantly but they hadn’t even left the North yet and (Y/N) was bitter about it since snow and ice was still all she could see. She was unprepared to roam freely around Middle-earth, though, and she was given much more space now instead while the new fortress was much fuller with creatures of all kinds, therefore she could no longer call herself lonely.

It made Mairon happy to see how the Orcs were bowing their heads at the sight of her, nearly touching the ground with their foreheads; too scared to look into her terrifying, cold eyes. He was so excited about it that he did not realise how suspicious Adar was getting.

(Y/N) was given the most beautiful gowns by Mairon and even though it was making him feel frustrated to feel this way – he truly enjoyed giving her gifts and watching her eyes sparkle, although sometimes she would openly admit she found something ugly. He waited for her harsh judgement with anticipation and her approval meant the world to him, meanwhile her rejection felt like a blow. And he hated that for one reason only – it was a brutal reminder that he was a Maia and his nature was of a servant.

His eyes always followed her – he told himself it was to protect her but truth to be told, it was the world that should be protected from her and not the other way around. Yet, he witnessed her whims and dramatic outbursts, her laughter – both pure and wicked – her dancing and her acts of creation. Within the walls of this fortress her butterflies lived much longer and she adorably found it endearing. 

But she was also fascinated by the weapons of all sorts and forbidden magic spells left by her father. Her blood was as black and thick as his, Mairon noticed one day when she drew it with a dagger to perform one innocent spell.

He felt like a nanny sometimes – running towards her to take away the books with too dangerous spells from her. She was yet unprepared to use them. He did not even want to think about what would happen if she was left unsupervised.

Therefore, even in her dreams he followed her and she often dreamt of her mother and of imaginary lands since she had no idea what the real ones looked like. And he had to admit the realms (Y/N) was creating with her mind were… beautiful. They were full of sun and green fields of grass, butterflies and flowers. They were ideal and full of harmony – the very first time Mairon had joined them in her dreams, he nearly cried because it was exactly how he wanted the world to look like. But it also meant that at the end of the day (Y/N)’s heart remained pure and uncorrupted.

And just like that, he fell in love with her. As her protector, as her servant, as her subject, as her friend. As her lover.

One evening Mairon asked (Y/N) to join him in the forge where she had not yet been. She walked inside and looked around with widened eyes and a smile – soft but a little contemptuous as well.

“Do you like it?” Mairon asked her with his hands clasped nervously behind his back.

“Perhaps. But is it not a commoner’s work to commit himself to physical labour?” She leaned her back onto the pillar and Mairon chuckled nervously as he approached her.

“Would a commoner craft you such wonders?” He asked as he reached his hand out and showed her a necklace and a ring that he was holding inside his hand and that he had forged for her a few days earlier. He had been lacking the courage to give it to her until now, though.

“Are they for me?” (Y/N) asked as her eyes sparkled when she took the jewellery from him. Mairon nodded at her question, proud of himself because she visibly liked the gift. “Why?” She asked.

“You do not own any,” he answered.

“But who sees me here? I surely have no need to look grand for the Orcs,” she laughed.

“I see you,” Mairon pointed out and she froze.

He panicked at first, scared that those three words had been three too many. But she was not looking at him at all. She pointed her finger at the item behind his back.

“That is…” (Y/N) whispered.

“Your father’s crown,” Mairon nodded and walked up to it. “I am about to reforge it to fit me. Do you want to watch?” He asked and (Y/N) nodded, hesitantly.

She put on her new necklace and a new ring before Mairon offered her one of the leather aprons. It made her giggle when he was putting it over her gown.

“I would not want your robes to get damaged,” he informed her and she nodded as she sat on the chair nearby and watched with fascination how he worked.

When the black iron of her father’s crown melted, she sighed loudly and Mairon turned his head around to raise his eyebrow at her.

“What is it?”

“I was thinking if you could forge an item for me made out of this iron, too,” she looked up at him. “He was my father. I wish to keep a part of him with me always.”

“You are part of him,” Mairon laughed and she pouted. “But, surely, why not,” he promised and she grinned.

He poured a small amount of the liquid black iron aside to one of the cauldrons over the fire to avoid solidification. And while he worked on his new crown, he wondered what he could forge for (Y/N).

A bold idea came to his mind – an idea so forbidden that he felt a shiver travel down his spine at the thought of what her parents would do to him for having it.

Yet, he was out of their reach, so he went with it and at the end of the night, he handed (Y/N) a wedding band.

“Another ring?” She huffed. “Thought you would be more creative,” she sighed. “It doesn’t even have any gemstone attached to it!”

“Do you know what that is?” Mairon asked, a little impatiently, but mostly nervously. If she rejected him now, it would certainly be one of his grandest humiliations.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows and tilted her head as she stared at the item in her hand, looking at it from every angle. And when the light from the forge’s fire reflected upon the surface of the band, the letters glistened and she read them out loud in a whisper.

“It is a love declaration in Black Speech,” she looked up to meet his gaze as Mairon swallowed the lump in his throat. “That language was not made with love declarations in mind, that is for sure,” she remarked.

“Nevermind then,” Mairon tore the item out of her hands and walked away nervously to avoid her gaze. Taking deep breaths to calm himself down after such a humiliation, he did not hear her footsteps following him.

“Sauron…” She whispered, addressing him by the only name she was ever calling him with because her mother had taught her so, and touched his shoulder but he flinched. “You do not like that name, do you?”

“Yet you keep using it,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“The Abhorred sounds so pretty to me,” she confessed and he softened a little but still refused to turn around and meet her gaze. “From the moment I saw you those centuries ago… I knew that you were the one for me,” she added and Mairon’s heart quickened. “You showed up out of nowhere like a knight out of my dreams who would save me. Your red hair contrasting with the snow… I shall never forget that day.”

Mairon finally turned around and he watched as she cupped his face gently and pulled his head down to be able to place a kiss upon his forehead while his heart began to pounder.

“However, I cannot marry a man who needs me more than I need him,” she added when she let go of him, her words shattering his heart into millions of pieces.

And alongside the pain, anger came as well. Mairon did not enjoy being rejected.

“If you think you do not need me, you are mistaken,” he spoke as the sudden fury overtook him, causing his veins to swell with thick, black blood. (Y/N) took a step back at the sight. “If it was not for me, you would still be rotting in that fortress, hidden away from the world. I took you here, I prepare your father’s armies to continue their march because you have never been taught anything. I am the one promising you the whole Middle-earth, ensuring its people will worship you. If you do not wish to be sent back there to rot, then you have to accept the fact that I am your only future!” He snapped and calmed down right after, softening immediately as his hands began to tremble slightly. He fixed his hair and clasped his shaky hands quickly to hide his nervousness from her.

“You… You dropped the band,” was all (Y/N) said to that as she pointed at the floor before crouching down to pick it up.

Before she stood up, she looked up at his face and it only made him feel even more guilty and scared for lashing out on her.

“Forgive me,” he grabbed her face and leaned in to be as close as he could. “Forgive me, please, I did not mean to… Gods, it has never been my intention to hurt you,” he was lying to herself as much as to his own self. “You must forgive me, it was only caused by fear. Fear of losing you,” he continued and felt her muscles relaxing eventually.

She even dared to wrap her arms around him as she clinged to him like a child seeking warmth.

“I would never leave you,” she breathed out and brushed his ginger hair to put the loose hair strands behind his ears. “There is nothing I am scared of more than to be left all alone again. You were right and I was mistaken – I do need you. I was teasing you only but I did not expect such wrath in return. You are all I have. What is the point of being so powerful when there is no one to witness?” She finished with a playful question and Mairon sighed out of relief, leaning in to brush her nose a little with his own.

She winced slightly and giggled before moving her head to brush him with the tip of her nose as well. Like two kittens they played like that for a while until he finally joined their lips together and she opened her mouth to let him devour her.

He felt Melkor’s wrath even from all the dimensions away but he could not care less about any of that. To hold a creature like her so close and to feel the heart of her flesh beating so fast for him was a victory of its own. For a moment, he nearly wanted to abandon all his schemes and start a new life with her somewhere – to create a life like the one from her dreams but for the both of them only where they could hide from the world and spend eternity in each other’s embrace.

“Please, don’t send me away back there,” she whispered softly after breaking the kiss, her lower lip trembling slightly.

How silly she could be. He would not be able to do so even if he tried because she was too powerful for that. Yet, her loneliness caused her dependance on him and it was all for him for the taking. He felt bad taking advantage of that but it was too tempting to reject.

“My beautiful (Y/N),” he whispered and caressed her cheeks. “You will never be alone. Wherever you go, I shall follow. And wherever you go, I shall make sure everyone there worships your light and your darkness as equals for you are too powerful to be reduced to one. You will help me to heal, to create new life and I will lead your father’s armies to ensure our victories,” he promised and she smiled before pecking his lips once more.

(Y/N) took a small step back and he watched in awe as she put the wedding band onto her finger. His heart and soul sang at the sight.

“I refuse to be in the shadows like my mother once was. I want to lead the armies with you,” she met Mairon’s gaze. “I want to earn my own squalid name, Sauron. The Abhorred. I want to carry my own title with pride,” she revealed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

How cute and innocent she could be one moment and how terrifying the next. Mairon wondered if the war of her two natures within her was exhausting her. Was she being haunted constantly by the duel of her light and her darkness?

But perhaps there was no war within her. It was only natural for her, after all. Perhaps they coexisted and balanced perfectly and it all made sense somehow. And perhaps it was not his duty to understand any of this but to accept her the way she was.

“You will be given a sword and armour,” he promised. “You will be their Queen of The Day and of The Night. You will be their rescue and their demise. Their Sun and their Moon. Their Life and their Death. And whatever path you choose, I shall follow you down the road.”

“Worry not,” (Y/N) chuckled and approached him to put her hands on his shoulders. “I know it is your wish to heal. And my wish is to rule over a world so beautiful like the ones from my dreams. I will only destroy those who stand on our way to create such greatness,” she swore.

Her words soothed him but could he truly trust her? She was Melkor’s daughter and his influence might have been stronger than they both suspected. What other choice did Mairon have, though? To slay her? He would never do that. Therefore, all he could do was to keep her close and take care of her.

Who was he fooling, though? His own self?

He was there to follow and serve and it was only the matter of time when she would realise how powerful she truly was and what a great influence she had over him as well.

Even if she would destroy the whole Middle-earth like her father wanted to and create a land of ashes, he would gladly rule over it by her side. 

Gods, he would gladly serve there as his Queen’s subject and that would be enough.

“You have no idea what you are doing to me,” he breathed out and she giggled.

“I do. I can see inside your mind.”

MASTERLIST

[taniahylian]

Paulina and Regulus

Okay, I'mma post this cuz I think I'm going insane (I probably am), but here me out. There's too many coincidences that point out to there being a connection between the two, even if don't know exactly what kind of connection.

First let's start for the most obvious thing... Paulina's blue polka dot scarf.

It's not the same as Regulus', obviously, but it is very similar. Yet, if this was the only coincidence I wouldn't be making this theory... yet here I am.

Next it's this peace sign sticker that's next to Paulina's picture at the restaurant, but also on Regulus' backpack. Again, on it's own could be just a coincidence, but maybe it's not.

In that picture it says Apple on the background, and there's an apple in that same poster, and I don't think I need to saw how this connects to Regulus. To the side there's also a vinyl disc, like those Regulus always carries with her, which wouldn't be a big deal... except we're in the 1990's, when using CD's was already a lot more popular than vinyls.

And there's also the fact that Paulina's mom married J's father, who was from a world-famous family of alchemists. How is this relevant to Regulus? Well, she's an alchemical genius. Maybe Paulina's mom had an interest in alchemy too and that's how she ended up meeting J's dad.

Now... I want to point out that, at least to me Regulus and Paulina look quite similar.

It's not a one-to-one resemblance, of course, but they look similar enough for me to think they might be related, maybe, especially since Paulina's blue scarf was a gift from her parents. That said... as funny as it'd be to say to Regulus "So you are a mother!", I don't think that's the case at all. Firstly because Paulina is French, while Regulus is British, but most importantly because Paulina is human; she doesn't have any powers at all.

Of course we don't know Regulus' lineage, so she could be only half-arcanist, and therefore she'd be able to have a mostly-human child if she married a pure blood human, but... I don't think that's the case. Sonetto says in ch1 that Regulus' talent is rated "S", which most likely mean she's either pure blood, or very close to it, so any child she had would be at least a half-blood arcanist.

That said... the dates would match. Regulus was 15 in 1966, and lets assume Paulina was the same age when she left J, let's say 1989, one year before the event takes place. That'd mean Paulina was born in 1974, and Regulus would've been 23 years old at that point. However, if she is Paulina's mom, she died very young (around 30 years old?), as we know Paulina and J became orphans soon after becoming sibilings... and, believe it or not, the fact that Regulus would die young is actually hinted at by Mr. Apple in the mini chapter after ch7.

So... it is possible that Regulus had a child with a French person, said child, Paulina, happened to be born without powers despite her arcanist lineage (like Kumar, for example), then they moved to San Francisco, where Regulus met J's father, bonded with him thanks to their shared love of alchemy, got married and then died soon after. However... idk, it doesn't seem right to me? I think there might be different kind of connection between them, although I'm not sure what.

Maybe I'm just losing my head, idk. Most likely, honestly, but it's fun to speculate XD

Anyways, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

[eu-nicola]

the ferrari couple

summary: when Charles signs with Ferrari, his life takes an unexpected turn when he falls in love with you "Princess Ferrari". Together both become the perfect couple, but behind public perfection, the pressure of your careers leads both in other ways

warnings: nothing

word counter: 4559

author's note: english is not my first language

this is a request from @pperlaaiy

The sound of engines rumbled across the Monza circuit. It was the 2018 Italian Grand Prix, and Charles Leclerc, still a Sauber driver, walked around the paddock with a mix of pride and nervousness. That year had been crucial for him; rumours of his possible promotion to Ferrari felt increasingly real. However, the pressure of being at home, surrounded by tifosi who idolised the Scuderia, kept him on his toes. 

As he made his way to the Ferrari hospitality area, Charles paused for a moment, awed by the spectacle before him. Surrounded by photographers, journalists and Ferrari employees, there was you. You seemed to shine with a light of your own, dressed in an impeccable white two-piece suit that bore discreet touches of Ferrari red, the colour that so represented your lineage. Perfectly coiffed hair, dark sunglasses and a confident smile that showed no trace of nervousness. In that moment, you were everything Ferrari stood for: tradition, elegance and power. 

“Who is she?” Charles asked his engineer, unable to look away.

“Don’t you know? She’s related to Enzo Ferrari. Her mother, Sofia Ferrari, is practically the queen of the car group. She’s like the princess of the house.”

Charles nodded slowly, impressed, but also intimidated. He had heard about you before, how you were an iconic figure in and out of the world of motorsport. You were known not only for your surname, but for your involvement in Ferrari’s most exclusive events, your innate elegance, and the way you upheld your family’s legacy. The fact that you were unreachable only added to your aura.

However, what happened next took Charles completely by surprise. While he tried to hide his interest and continue on his way, you turned around and your eyes met his. Taking off your sunglasses, you smiled with that mix of kindness and confidence that baffled everyone.

“Charles Leclerc, right?” You asked, stepping closer gracefully.

He blinked, surprised that you knew who he was. "Uh, yeah, I'm Charles," he replied, trying to sound relaxed, though he felt the heat rising to his face.

“I have to say, you’ve impressed many at Ferrari this year,” you said, shaking his hand. Your tone was gentle, but your words carried a weight he couldn’t ignore. “My uncle won’t stop talking about you. I think you’re destined for great things.”

Charles scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture contrasting with your poise. “I hope so. Being part of Ferrari would be… a dream.”

“A dream, but also a responsibility,” you replied, your gaze becoming more intense. “Ferrari isn’t just a team, Charles. It’s a family, a history. The tifosi don’t see you as just a driver; they see you as a symbol. And that’s not something just anyone can carry.”

He nodded slowly, feeling the weight of your words. He’d heard similar speeches before, but coming from you, they held a different meaning. “I know. And I’m willing to give my all to live up to it.”

You stared at him for a moment, assessing him. Finally, you smiled again, this time with a hint of genuine warmth. “I hope so, Charles. I’d love to see you succeed at Ferrari. But for now, enjoy Monza. It’s a magical place, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he replied, relaxing a little. “Even more so now.”

Your laugh was soft, but enough for the few people around to notice the chemistry that seemed to be brewing between the two of you. Before you could respond, a team member called out to you from a distance. With a slight nod to Charles, you walked away, leaving behind a sweet scent and an impression he wouldn’t soon forget.

Charles stood still for a few seconds, taking in what had just happened. He had met the “princess of Ferrari,” but beyond your name and lineage, what had struck him most was your presence. There was something about you that challenged him, that made him want to prove he was worthy of being in your world.

That night, during the official Ferrari dinner, they met again. You were surrounded by important figures in motorsport, but when Charles entered the room, your eyes instinctively sought him out. This time, you didn't need to approach him; he took the initiative.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, pointing to the chair next to yours.

You smiled, amused. "Of course. I hope you're ready, Charles."

"If I can survive Monza, I think I can handle this," he replied, feeling more confident.

And so, over glasses of wine and conversations filled with jokes and witty observations, something began that neither of you could have foreseen. You weren't just Ferrari's princess; you were a challenge, a mystery. And for Charles, the young driver who dreamed of conquering the world, you became the most fascinating target of all.

After that first meeting at Monza, Charles couldn't get you out of his mind. Despite being immersed in the demands of his season with Sauber, he found moments between races and training to remember the conversations he'd had with you. For your part, there was something about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was his humility, his ambition, or the way he seemed to shine even under the pressure of the spotlight.

The next few times you met were at Ferrari-related events, always in formal settings where professional distance was the norm. However, that barrier slowly began to break down.

It was a cool evening in Maranello. Ferrari had organised a private dinner to celebrate the season's achievements and start looking ahead. Although the evening was for the official drivers, Charles was invited as a gesture of goodwill, as the announcement of his joining Ferrari for the 2019 season was imminent.

You met him in the event's illuminated gardens, while escaping a boring conversation with a group of executives. Charles was alone, a glass of wine in his hand, admiring the statue of Enzo Ferrari that presided over the place. You approached him with a light smile.

"Thinking about how to fill those shoes?" you asked, stopping beside him.

Charles turned his head, surprised but genuinely happy to see you. "More like wondering if I'll ever make it."

“It’s a start,” you said, shrugging. “He always said that the true spirit of Ferrari isn’t in perfection, but in passion. If you have that, you’re already halfway there.”

He looked at you, with a mix of admiration and curiosity. “Do you feel that passion too? For Ferrari, I mean.”

You nodded, crossing your arms to protect yourself from the cold. “Of course. I grew up surrounded by this world, but it’s not just the family name. It’s everything it represents: the history, the tifosi, the constant struggle to be the best. It’s not easy to live with it, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Charles was silent for a moment, processing your words. Then he smiled, a soft but sincere gesture. “It’s funny. All that you describe is what scares me and excites me at the same time. Being at Ferrari means so much more than being a fast driver. It’s… something bigger.”

You turned to him, studying him carefully. There was something about his honesty that disarmed you, a rarity in a world full of appearances. “And you think you’re ready for it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging. “But I want to try. And I’ll do my best to prove that I’m worthy of it.”

The determination in his voice made you smile. “That’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid to admit your doubts, but you’re not afraid to face them either.”

He stared at you, as if he was trying to figure something out in you. “And you? Have you always been this sure of yourself?”

The question took you by surprise. You looked down for a moment before answering. “Not always. But when you grow up in this family, you learn to hide your insecurities.”

Before the conversation could go any deeper, one of the attendants called out to you from a distance. “Y/N, you’re needed inside.”

You sighed, but not before giving Charles one last smile. "Don't let them intimidate you in there. And remember: Ferrari is more than a car, it's a family."

The real change in your relationship came weeks later, when Ferrari made the official announcement that Charles would be a driver for the 2019 season. The news flooded the headlines and thrilled the tifosi, who saw him as the future of the team. That evening, you hosted a private dinner at your family villa in Maranello, inviting only a few people close to the team, including Charles.

"Thank you for inviting me," Charles said when he arrived, wearing a simple but elegant suit. There was something different in his gaze that night: a mix of confidence and gratitude.

"Of course," you replied as you greeted him. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate our new star."

The evening passed quietly, with laughter, anecdotes and toasts to the future. However, you both noticed that your eyes met more often than usual. When dinner ended and the other guests began to leave, Charles was one of the last to stay.

"Would you like to see something special?" You asked, taking a glass of wine and leading him towards the villa's garage.

Inside, covered by tarps, were some of Ferrari's most iconic models, from the first cars created by Enzo to the most modern ones. Charles walked among them in wonder, like a child in a candy store.

"It's amazing," he murmured. "It's like being in a private museum."

"It is," you said, leaning against one of the cars. "Every car here has a story. And now you will be a part of that story."

He stopped in front of you, his expression serious but warm. "I hope I can live up to it. Not just for Ferrari, but for you as well."

The intensity of his words took you by surprise, but you didn't back down. There was something about his sincerity that drew you hopelessly.

"Charles..." you began, but he interrupted you.

“I’m not saying this because you’re from the Errari family or because you’re in a position of power. I’m saying this because you, as a person, inspire me. And I want you to know that I will do everything I can to not let you down.”

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. And as the silence stretched between you both, Charles took a step towards you. There was no need to say anything else; the moment said it all.

That night marked the start of something special. What had started as a casual connection became a relationship that you both knew would be intense, complicated, but also unique.

After that, the end of 2018 was a whirlwind of emotions for Charles. He had closed his season with Sauber in an exceptional way, earning the respect of the tifosi and securing his place at Ferrari for the following year. But the most unexpected thing for him had been the relationship that had formed with you. During those months, you went from being two occasional acquaintances at events to becoming confidants and something more.

Your meetings, although few due to his constant travels, were full of complicity. He had invited you to accompany him to a couple of races outside Italy, and although you kept everything under a strict low profile, the members of the paddock were beginning to notice that there was something between you. The candlelit dinners, the walks through Maranello and the deep conversations.

For Charles, you were much more than a "Ferrari". You were someone who understood him, someone who saw beyond the image of a promising driver. For you, Charles was a breath of fresh air in a world full of appearances. In him, you found someone honest, humble and passionate.

However, you both knew that things would change in 2019. With Charles officially becoming a Ferrari driver, the attention on both of you would increase, and you would have to decide how you would face what was to come together.

When the 2019 season began, everything changed. Not only was Charles Ferrari's new rising star, he also unwittingly became the centre of media attention. The relationship between the two, which until then had remained in the shadows, inevitably began to come to light.

The first time photographers caught you together was at the Monaco Grand Prix. You were in the paddock, leaning against a railing as you talked animatedly to Charles. You were wearing a red outfit that paid homage to the Scuderia, and your laughter echoed above the roar of the engines. The media was quick to dub you the “prince and princess of Ferrari.”

“Does all this attention bother you?” Charles asked you that afternoon, as you walked together through the Monte Carlo harbor.

“A little,” you admitted, adjusting your sunglasses. “But I also know it’s inevitable. I guess we’ll just have to learn to handle it together.”

Charles nodded, taking your hand gently. “We will.”

It was an intense year, full of challenges for both of you. Charles had to deal with the pressure of being a Ferrari driver, while you were constantly surrounded by the critical eyes of the press and tifosi, who analyzed your every move. Far from separating them, however, those challenges brought them closer together.

The moments they shared off the track became their refuge. There were days when Charles would arrive exhausted after a difficult race, and you would call him to give him words of encouragement. There were also nights when you, exhausted, would find comfort in his embrace.

By 2020, you were no longer just a couple at Ferrari; you were the couple. Cameras followed you everywhere, and social media couldn't stop talking about you. Photos of you at Formula 1 galas, at private Scuderia events, and even on vacation in Italy went viral instantly.

The tifosi loved how they represented the essence of Ferrari: Charles was the young driver full of talent and promise, and you, the sophisticated and passionate woman who seemed to be the embodiment of the Ferrari legacy. No matter where they were, together they projected an image of perfection that fascinated the world.

However, behind the flashes, things were not always easy. The 2020 season was a complicated year for Ferrari, with performance issues testing Charles as a driver. For him, it was frustrating to go from being a constant contender to fighting to stay in the top 10. There were times when tensions were palpable, but you always found a way to remind him of his worth.

“Charles,” you told him one night after a disappointing race at Spa, as you both sat on the balcony of his hotel room. “You are not just a Ferrari driver. You are the future of Ferrari. Enzo always said that difficult races are the ones that make true champions. And you are one of them.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Luckily, you won’t have to find out,” you replied with a smile.

That mutual strength was what made you two so special. While Charles faced the challenges of the track, you struggled to keep outside pressures at bay, defending your relationship from rumors and criticism.

By the end of 2020, you were more than a couple; you were a symbol. The prince and princess of Ferrari, two figures who represented everything the brand stood for: history, passion, and the promise of a bright future.

What no one imagined was that beneath that image of perfection, the first cracks were beginning to form. Because, although the love you felt for each other was real, the demands of your worlds were not always compatible.

The end of 2020 marked a turbulent time both on and off the track. Ferrari was facing one of its worst seasons in years, and while Charles continued to show his talent, the car simply wasn’t up to par. You, for your part, had been dealing with the mounting pressures of your family name: new projects, the constant expectation that you represent Ferrari at key events, and increasing scrutiny over your relationship with Charles.

Through it all, you never let the internal tensions leak outward. To the world, you were still the couple. You were seen smiling at events, with Charles looking at you as if you were his anchor, and you showing yourself unwavering, like the pillar holding him up. But what no one saw was the distance that was beginning to form between you.

The breaking point began subtly, with small misunderstandings and differences that you had previously managed with grace.

During the final races of the season, you noticed that Charles was more distant. Although he remained affectionate with you in public, in private his attention seemed to be elsewhere. His days were consumed by endless team meetings, interviews, and hours of work trying to squeeze the maximum potential out of an unresponsive car. When he came home, he was exhausted, and conversations between the two of you were reduced to an exchange of short sentences.

“How was it today?” you asked, waiting for an answer that never came with any depth.

“Good, the usual,” he would reply, often without looking at you, lost in thought.

It wasn’t Charles’ fault, you knew. The weight he carried on his shoulders was immense, and you wanted to be understanding. But you couldn’t help but feel displaced, as if your place in his life had taken a backseat.

For your part, you were dealing with your own problems as well. Your family expected you to take a more active role in the company, and every step you took was scrutinized. The endless meetings, strategic decisions, and social expectations were draining you. There were nights when you sat alone in your Maranello apartment, wondering if this was the life you really wanted.

The night of the final race of the season, in Abu Dhabi, you decided you needed to talk. You had prepared dinner in the hotel suite, hoping to reconnect before heading back to Italy. Charles arrived late, tired but trying not to show it.

“This looks amazing,” he commented, cracking a smile as he sat across from you.

“I wanted us to close the year with something special,” you replied, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice.

For a while, the conversation flowed as before. You talked about the race, the tifosi, and even joked about how the media had called you “Ferrari royalty” in a recent article. But then, the tone changed.

“Charles, I’ve been thinking,” you began, hands shaking slightly. “Do you think… we’re okay?”

He looked up, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve grown apart,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “We don’t talk like we used to anymore, we don’t spend time together. I feel like all of this—” you gestured vaguely at the world around them, “—is consuming us.”

Charles sighed, setting his fork down on the table. “I know. I’ve felt the same way. But I thought… that it was temporary. That after this season, things would get better.”

“What if they don’t?” you asked, facing the fear you’d been suppressing for months.

For a moment, Charles didn’t say anything. His silence was like a confirmation of what you both feared: that the weight of your individual lives was overshadowing what you had together.

“I love you,” he finally said, with a sincerity that almost brought tears to your eyes. "But I don't know if I'm being fair to you. I don't know if I can be the person you need right now."

The decision wasn't made in one night, but that conversation marked the beginning of the end. Over the following weeks, both tried to hold on to what they had, but silences were more frequent than words, and the emotional distance became increasingly evident.

The news of their separation came in January 2021, shortly after the Christmas holidays. There were no official statements or public explanations; they simply stopped appearing together, and rumours began to circulate.

The paddock was in shock. Neither of them had given any indication of trouble, and for the tifosi, they represented perfection. But those who knew them closely knew the truth: there was no big fight, no betrayal, just the inevitable wear and tear of two people trapped in worlds that demanded too much of them.

The last time you saw him was at a Ferrari event in early 2021. He was beaming, smiling at photographers as he spoke to management. When your eyes met, he gave you a small, almost melancholic smile, which you returned with a similar gesture.

There were no words, but they didn't need to be. You both knew that what you had was unique, special, and that it would always be a part of you. But you also knew that you had made the right decision, even if it hurt.

The prince and princess of Ferrari had split up, leaving the world baffled and the tifosi heartbroken.

The months following the breakup were like a whirlwind, even though neither of you openly acknowledged it. You and Charles had decided to keep the reasons for the end of your relationship private, but that only fueled the speculation. The media kept wondering what had happened between the prince and princess of Ferrari, and the tifosi couldn't accept that something so perfect had fallen apart for no apparent reason.

Despite the noise, you both tried to move on, each in your own way. But as they tried to build new routines, the world kept watching, waiting for some sign, some word that would explain the inexplicable.

The first image of Charles with another woman appeared one day in March. It was a casual photograph, taken by a fan in Monte Carlo. Charles was in a café, smiling as he chatted with a blonde, light-eyed girl. It didn't seem like a romantic encounter, but the closeness between the two and the carefree smile on Charles' face unleashed a wave of comments.

“Who is she?”

“Has she replaced her already?”

“She’s probably her cousin or something, Charles wouldn’t do this.”

For your part, you tried to ignore it. You knew Charles had the right to move on, as did you, but you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach as fans began to theorize about his love life.

It wasn’t long before you were making headlines too. A few weeks later, during a gala event in Milan, you arrived accompanied by an Italian businessman known for his charisma and fortune. He offered you his arm as you walked down the red carpet, and although you maintained a professional smile, the camera flashes captured something that the media interpreted as complicity.

The reaction was not long in coming.

“She already has a boyfriend? This can’t be real.”

“Charles and her were perfect, this doesn’t make sense.”

“The princes of Ferrari are dating commoners now, apparently.”

Social media became a battleground between fans. There were those who supported the idea of ​���the two moving on with their lives, but there were also those who clung to the hope of a reconciliation. Every photo of Charles with his supposed new partner was analyzed in detail, and the same was true for you.

On your Instagram profile, the comments were a reflection of the tifosi's pain:

"Please tell me this isn't true."

"Why did you break up? I never understood it."

"Get back together, there's still time."

Charles faced the same thing. Even in the simplest photos — an afternoon training or a day on the simulator — the responses were full of mentions of you.

"Everything is more boring without Princess Ferrari."

"I hope you're happy, but I'll never forget what you had."

Neither you nor Charles made any comments on the matter. You both knew that any statement would only fuel further speculation, and the last thing you wanted was to turn your past relationship into a public spectacle.

At Ferrari events, it was inevitable that your paths would cross, although you always kept your distance. During a presentation of the Scuderia for the 2021 season, you sat in the front row next to the management, while Charles took his place on the stage, talking about his expectations for the year.

Your eyes met for a brief second. It was enough for the photographers to capture the moment, but not enough for either of you to show any obvious emotion. You held his gaze calmly, while he quickly turned his gaze towards the audience.

After the event, you avoided the cocktail party that followed. You knew the media would be waiting for any interaction between you, and you weren't about to fuel any more rumors. However, as you were leaving, you received a text on your phone.

"I saw you left early. I hope you're okay."

It was from Charles.

You read it a few times before pocketing your phone without responding. Although the message seemed innocent, it only made the emptiness in your chest feel heavier.

Despite appearances, moving on wasn't easy for either of you. Charles could put on a smile next to his new companion, but in moments of solitude, he found his mind drifting back to the days he shared with you. The walks through Maranello, the conversations in the early morning, even the small arguments over insignificant things: it was all still there, like an echo that refused to go away.

You weren't immune either. Although you were dating someone new, you hadn't felt that connection you once had with Charles. Every time you saw their name in the headlines, your heart beat a little faster, and images of what was and what could have been filled your mind.

Still, you both kept going, at least in the eyes of the world. The smiles at events, the carefully curated posts on social media, everything seemed to indicate that you had put the past behind you. But the others seemed unwilling to let it go.

The tifosi kept waiting. In every Ferrari post, in every interview, in every public appearance, someone always asked about you.

"Will you come back one day?"

"You were the heart of Ferrari."

"Without you, this is not the same anymore."

And although neither you nor Charles answered, that question kept hanging in the air, like a wound that time did not quite heal. Because although you had gone your separate ways, the world was not ready to forget you.

And, perhaps, deep down, neither were you.

[neuroprincess]

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Tyrant - Alex Cabot/Female Reader

Alex Cabot/Female Reader

Summary: Alex's apartment still has the Christmas tree up in February for a reason, a small and demanding reason.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word count: +1200

The snowfall of the night before had covered the city streets and turned gray into white; it would be quite a sight in the early hours of the morning with the sun rising between the buildings and skyscrapers. Alex is sitting on the divan near the window, occasionally sipping the hot coffee in hand, but her observant eyes are fixed on the other side of the room, where the Christmas tree was still in all its shiny glory, full of decorations and twinkling lights... in February. The lights glowed softly, reflecting the four colors on the wooden floor and creating a neon illumination. A couple of feet away, between the attorney and the only remaining decoration of the festive season, was Margot, nestled in her baby swing, also staring at the lights, but unlike her mom, with wide, fascinated eyes.

“You know, it's the end of February...” Alex commented over her shoulder to her wife, who was sorting out a pile of blankets on the sofa “Most people have already taken down all their Christmas decorations.”

Y/N snorted and tried not to roll her eyes, after all, they were the ones who had put themselves in that situation.

“Most people don't have a little five-month-old tyrant who refuses to sleep without them and won't even let us sleep.”

As if to emphasize the point, the baby cooed softly, reaching out a chubby hand towards the largest hanging ornaments, as she has done ever since she learned to grasp. Alex shook her head in disbelief, laughing, and took a big sip of coffee before heading towards the tree.

“We really need to talk about this, sweetheart.” she said, turning to her daughter, who blinked at her innocently, giving an almost toothy smile “But not now, right, Mag?!”

“She's got you wrapped around her little finger and she knows it.” Y/N teased, placing a folded patterned blanket in the arm band and walking over to her wife “Not that I mind. It's cute.”

“She's not even six months old. How much power can she really have? I am a grown woman and very...” Alex scoffed and crouched down to stroke the strands of hair escaping from under the knitted cap "Forget about it, maybe you're right."

It all started in December, of course, just after the couple had prepared the house with care and dedication to spend their first Christmas as a family. Naturally, Alex had taken care of most of the details with safety in mind, such as battery-operated candles instead of the traditional ones, no strong scents, no heavy or pointy ornaments and even the tree didn't escape this, synthetic, without any dirt or possible bugs or possible allergies, practical and beautiful. At night, when the lights were turned on and Margot was lulled to sleep on the sofa with soft lullabies, sometimes breastfed until she fell asleep, the world was perfect and they felt lucky to have a calm and not at all demanding baby. They couldn't have imagined how wrong they were.

It was at the beginning of January that the first hint of what they would face emerged. The routine was set: a warm bath, diaper change, feeding and, finally, the delicate transition to sleep. But then, as soon as they started cleaning up after the holidays, what was supposed to be a calm night turned into a nightmare for first-time mothers. Margot, normally quiet and prone to falling asleep without resistance, squirmed restlessly in Y/N's arms while Alex organized the kitchen. Soon low grumbles became a loud, shrill cry, louder and longer than any moment before.

“What's wrong, little one?” Y/N murmured, rocking her gently, while her daughter mumbled and moved little hands between cries that left her face red and wet, eyes blinking sleepily, but not completely surrendering to rest “Do you want Mommy?”

Without much thought, she got up and walked to the living room, where she found the blonde on the way, already wiping hands and taking off the apron, with a worried look, they stared at each other without knowing exactly what to do, before they could check for colic or fever, she felt her daughter's body relax against hers. Only then did she realize that they were standing next to the Christmas tree.

“Oh, you just wanted the lights, did you?” she whispered, sighing in small relief as she felt Margot's head rest against her chest.

Alex, watching the scene with a mixture of fascination and incredulity, crossed her arms.

“So that's it?” she asked in another whisper, afraid of disturbing the sleep that had barely begun.

Her wife shrugged, trying not to smile.

“Our daughter seems to be a bit demanding and a girl of habits, she's clearly inherited that from you.”

And that's how it all began. The couple got quiet nights with a sleepy baby and a few hours of sleep for themselves as long as the tree lights kept shining, even if it meant sometimes falling asleep in the living room while they nursed the baby to sleep or even setting up a mobile crib nearby for when they were doing chores or some rare leisure time, and leaving the doors open all night so that the lights reached wherever little Cabot was. Alex tried to object a few times, suggesting alternatives such as less flashy night lights, soft sounds or putting a few Chistmas lights in the nursery, but nothing had the same effect as the extravagant, richly decorated tree. When they tried to turn it off for a whole night, Margot protested with an incessant cry that didn't end until they, defeated, got up and turned it on again.

“She's manipulating us.” Alex concluded incredulously, throwing herself on the bed, eyes half-closed with sleep, her wife lying down beside her sighing tiredly.

The blonde knows it's not true, after all, it's only a baby and as smart as she is for her age she wouldn't be capable of such a thing, she just couldn't help herself and made a joke in the midst of exhaustion and the notion that maybe they were guilty of it.

“She's only four months old, Alex.”

“Four months and knows how to get what she wants from us.”

And so the tree stood. January passed in the blink of an eye and Margot continued to be obsessed with the lights. Now, at the peak of February, Alex had completely surrendered to the absurd reality that her once plain and almost minimalist living room was still decorated as if Christmas was just around the corner. They tried to turn it off last night, thinking that the baby had finally gotten over it, but ended up dealing with a lot of crying and not being able to sleep for more than two hours.

“Maybe we should just accept that this house is now a shrine to the Christmas spirit,” joked Y/N, leaning her head on the blonde's shoulder as they smiled at their daughter, who was still staring at the tree with sleepy eyes under long lashes, mumbling, “She's so cute.”

Alex let out a resigned sigh and intertwined their fingers over her shoulder.

“I just want you to know that when she learns to talk and insists on putting up the tree and decorating the house in August, it will be your fault.”

“Whatever...” Y/N smiled and kissed the skin between Alex's shoulder and neck “As long as she keeps sleeping through the night.”

Margot let out a small sound of contentment, as if she knew her victory was assured, and yawned.

“I think Mag is ready for sleep.”

“And to let us rest, I hope.”

“Twinkle, twinkle, our little tyrant...”

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[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

Notes: Part one is linked here!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

The doors to the council room chamber finally shut, leaving only Alicent and her two sons by themselves. A tense air looms overhead, and Aemond Targaryen sits stiff in his chair, considering all that has just happened. 

I am to marry Jaenara Velaryon.

A funny feeling settled at the bottom of Aemond’s heart. Truth be told, marrying his niece was far from the worst possible marriage partner he could imagine. Aemond would never speak it aloud, but he had always found Jaenara strikingly beautiful. While she did not bear the signature Targaryen white hair, she shared their bewitching lavender eyes. Hers had always been an interesting shade, he had thought. And Jaenara had a remarkably Valyrian face. Many people amongst the court — even his mother Alicent — had stated that Jaenara was a spitting image of Rhaenyra in her younger years.

Aemond also admired his niece’s curious personality, which was an understatement. One second, she could be as cold as the winters of the north. A moment later, she would exhibit a kindness and warmth only read about in stories. She was a welcome challenge, Aemond thought. 

Jaenara, he remembered, is also a skilled dragonrider. She had a strong bond with her dragon, and had quickly honed many skills and tactics that many within their family — including her brothers, had struggled with. 

Perhaps there was more to admire about this match than he initially believed. 

Aemond finally raises his gaze to his mother and brother.

“I never thought you’d be one to play matchmaker, mother.” Aemond tells his mother, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone. Amusement to mask his uncertainty. Alicent looks at him incredulously, wondering how her son could joke amidst such circumstances. 

“Oh you didn’t know?” Aegon scoffs, “Mother has already done this before. Can’t you see how happy Helaena and I are together? Surely you and your beloved bastard will also be a sight to behold.” 

Aemond opens his mouth to retort his brother's jabs but his mother beats him to it.

“Enough!” Alicent slams an open palm onto the table. Aegon scoffs once more and rolls his eyes. Their mother’s eyes hold sorrow. Guilt. She has nothing to say in rebuttal. What could be said in face of the cold truth?

Aemond is about to leave when his mother finally speaks: “You will speak to Jaenara with more respect from now on if you are expected to sit at her mother’s council…” she trails off, as if unsure of her own words.

“I seem to remember you spoke of her the same way not too long ago - what was it you called her? Plain-featured?,” Aegon says, “Though your criticism of Rhaenyra and her litter of bastards has lessened over these last few months. Has the Queen snuffed out your senses too?” 

“Aegon,” Alicent’s voice is heavy, “Aemond. Rhaenyra only has everyone’s best interest in mind. She is following her father’s dying wishes - your father’s dying wish. We were both with him in his last moments…” The woman before them clad in green closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“I know what has happened in the past. But this is our opportunity to put it at rest…”

Put it at rest? Aemond feels disgust at his mother’s sympathies. They took my eye. They made my childhood the nightmare it was. They chipped away at me bit by bit.  

“You say this about the same people who robbed me of an eye, mother,” Aemond responds coolly, “The same people who faced no consequences for this. I have seen how this has tormented you, even years later. As you have with me.”

The prince can see the conflict that bubbles below his mother’s surface. Alicent turns to her son and does something unexpected. She takes her hand in his. 

Aemond’s eye softens for the smallest moment.

“My son. There is no mending what has been left in the past. But there is still time to mend the future. I only wish to see you happy.”

He shakes out of his mother’s grasp. “She will do no such thing.”

Aemond stands and makes a brisk exit for the door. Leaving his mother and brother behind, and himself to his thoughts.

Someone will pay the price. And I will make him pay for it in blood.

The prince does not find sleep so easily that night. He challenges himself to imagine the look that would grace his niece’s face when her mother would have to break the news of their arrangement to her. He wondered if her lavender eyes would narrow in disgust, her lip curling in a snarl, anger palpable. Or perhaps she had looked to her mother with quiet surrender, making no reaction and solemnly accepting his hand. He decided she had done the former. Jaenara had always been a rather animated young woman - and that was putting it lightly. Even in their youth she had been this way.

In the quiet of his chambers, Aemond finds his mind enraptured by the princess. 

He is reminded of a time she had scolded him when she was a girl no older than six, and himself only seven, for pushing her twin to the ground and giving him a scraped elbow. The only person who managed to stop her tirade had been Rhaenyra. Aemond recalls the young mother scooping her twins into her arms, one flailing around still shouting at him whilst the other had tears streaming down his face. The prince smiles almost fondly from the memory, surprising himself.

The next memory that came to him happened a few years later. Aemond had more often found himself at the center of ridicule, frequently dealt by Jace and Luke. Oftentimes by Aegon too, though he chose to ignore that detail. The young prince had always felt distant to the rest of his family, as though he were different - lesser than the rest of them. And how could he not, as a dragon-less Targaryen. He was a dragon without wings. And his nephews had made sure he was aware of this. Aemond recalled how his blood boiled at the thought that bastards such as his nephews - such as Jaenara - had dragons. And yet, he did not. Was there something wrong with him? Had there been a reason his egg had not hatched alongside him in his cradle? Was he unworthy?

The taunting had reached a new level when Jaenara’s brothers had gifted Aemond a pig. Something he was much more worthy of rather than a dragon - they had said. He remembers when his nephews had revealed the creature to him in the training yard. Even Aegon laughed at him, so loudly it had caught the attention of Jaenara, who had been on the far end of the square speaking with Helaena. Aemond remembered how her gaze had turned to him - how he waited for her to join in on the teasing and laughing. 

No such thing happened.

Jaenara bounded over to the group of boys, a quiet storm forming behind her lavender eyes. Helaena had opted to hang back from the debacle, watching the impending uproar with rapt attention. 

“Think that’s funny, do you?” Jaenara had asked aloud when she finally reached their group. 

Silence. 

Jaenara continued, “I seem to remember that you yourself Jacaerys - you have made very little progress in even mounting Vermax.” The young boy averted his attention to the ground, suddenly very interested in a mound of dirt near his feet. The reprimanding had not stopped there.

“And you-” She turned to Lucerys, “You on the other hand may be able to mount your dragon, though you find yourself on the ground within seconds.” She looks between her brothers, and then to Aemond. Each holds their gaze with the other for a few moments.

“Neither of you have any room to be acting as though you are real dragon riders yourselves.” She seems to have finished, turning on her heels and running back to Helaena.

“AND TAKE THAT PIG BACK!” She yells over her shoulder. Aemond watched as his sister and niece strode away, arm in arm. He returns his attention to Jace and Luke, whose faces are the same shade as their house colors. Aegon’s laughter fills the yard again.

This incident had shown Aemond a different side of his niece. For an instant, he was filled with an immense regret for all the times he had ever been cold to her. The times he had called her a bastard. The times he had joined in on Aegon’s belittling of her and her family. She had taken all of that - for years on end - and still defended him. He couldn’t really understand why.

He can do little to prevent his least favorite memory from entering his mind. Aemond takes in a breath and closes his eyes. He remembers the night at Driftmark. The night he had claimed Vhagar. The night he lost his eye. 

That time had been different. Jaenara had not been present when the fighting had broken out - not until Rhaena had frantically found her and told her of what was transpiring, unsure of what to do herself. When his niece entered the room, Aemond had been on top of her brother. The sight had sent the young girl into a frenzy and, without fully understanding the context of the situation, she had flung herself onto Aemond and wrenched the boy off of Lucerys. 

“Get off of him!” She had screeched. With her arm wrapped around Aemond’s neck, Jaenara threw herself back and they soon found themselves on the cold floor. “What do you think you-” Her question remained unanswered at this moment - this singular distraction turning Aemond’s attention towards his niece. He remembered the bewildered look on her face, her black hair coming loose from her braid. Her white night dress and the light purple robe that clung to her. A bead of blood on her bottom lip. She had always had a bad habit of biting it, Aemond had noticed. Hard enough to draw blood. The blood began to trickle down her chin.

It was the last thing his good eye had ever seen before Luke split open Aemond’s face, from his cheek to his forehead. His own blood splattered onto Jaenara’s powder white gown, staining the cloth forever.

Darkness. A scream.

Aemond sat up in bed, blinking away the rest of the memory. He opened and closed a fist. Yes, he was sure of her response now. Jaenara was not happy about the prospect of this union, and had surely let her mother - and the entirety of Dragonstone - know this. Where she lacked Velaryon parentage, Jaenara’s Targaryen fierceness made up for this tenfold. 

She will meet her match.

Aemond would swallow his pride - swallow his grudges against his niece, and become her husband. Though, he decided, she should not expect much from him. He held no love in his heart for her. Surely no romantic love. He would use her as he needed, to obtain what he wanted - power. That, and retribution for the slight that his family had suffered in having Rhaenyra as their Queen. Though some of the weaker members of his family would not see it his way.

He circles back to the dark thoughts that had crossed his mind earlier. He would be doing his soon-to-be wife a favor in getting rid of her twin. She would be made heir to the Seven Kingdoms. It was probably the closest act akin to love Aemond would find himself capable of accomplishing during their relationship. And he would help her to rule. He was nothing if not helpful.

He could make it look like an accident. He had previously considered poisoning Jacaerys. Aemond would not act until a comfortable time into his marriage, so as not to raise suspicion. Though he decided, suspicion would be raised regardless if the heir were to suddenly drop dead in the middle of dinner. He hardly thought that hands clenched around the throat, skin purple, and eyes bulging out of his head would seem inconspicuous.

Poison was out of the question.

Aemond Targaryen feels a sudden sense of dread in plotting his own nephew’s demise. The dread only grows when he truly pictures carrying the act out himself. If he were ever to be discovered, The Realm would christen him with the title of Kinslayer. 

To be a Kinslayer is to be despised by The Gods. To be damned to the Seven Hells. 

Aemond is unsure if he harbors enough hatred in him to carry out the act, though he certainly is no stranger to being on the receiving end of such hatred. 

He considers if he possesses enough complacency to suffer the consequences, should they be dealt. He wonders if his heart is as hard as everyone else believes it to be.

And yet…

Unable to find sleep, Aemond climbs out of bed once more. He dresses and finishes the outfit off with his long black cloak, throwing the hood over his head. 

The One Eyed Prince slips out of the Red Keep and ventures into the Streets of Silk, hoping to find some semblance of comfort. 

— — —

Candlelight illuminates the face of the young princess as her eyes scan the pages of a rather large, rather dusty book. In the days before their inevitable departure, Dragonstone had become a whirlwind of busy servants and flustered royals. All of Jaenara’s possessions had been packed away and taken to King’s Landing ahead of time with the family’s servants, save for the text seated in her lap. In such a tumultuous time, the young woman found solace in its pages. 

Jaenara had read the story of Rhaenys Targaryen, one of Aegon the Conqueror's sister-wives, so many times she felt she could recite the text backwards. Visenya had been a sister more remembered and revered by history for her valor and fierceness as a warrior; though Jaenara found herself drawn to the gentler sister. Rhaenys was more of a revered politician than a feared warrior. To Jaenara, she was just as formidable. She wanted to be like the Queen. Loved and feared. 

A knock upon the door turns her attention away from her histories. Jacaerys enters her chambers and lingers at the door for a moment, before resigning himself to sit next to her on the plush bed. 

“Jace,” Jaenara breathes, closing the text. 

Jacaerys looks over the book. 

“Again?” He attempts a small smile. 

Jaenara gets up from her place on the bed to create some distance between her and her brother. She places the book on her writing desk, taking mental note not to leave the book behind when she leaves tomorrow. “I find comfort through her in times such as these.” she responds shortly. 

Jace sighs, “You have been avoiding me.”

“You have made it easy.”

“Nara,” Jacaerys begins to sound annoyed, “You are not the only person who has had to…adapt to this change.”

Jaenara turns swiftly towards her brother, loose raven tresses swaying behind her wildly, “No, but I am the only person amongst us who had had their hand sold to a snake. You cannot understand my grief, Jace! You are betrothed to Baela - sweet Baela. You two actually like each other. But I am condemned to be the conciliatory sacrifice of this family.“

You are being unfair. Jaenara says to herself — she knows it to be true. You are being difficult. But she cannot help it. Her twin was afforded the luxury of being born a man. A man who did not have to face the same realities she currently found herself in.

Jace shifts on her bed, frame creaking under him. He seems to struggle finding his words, “I…you are right Jaenara,” He sighs, “I do not know what it is like. Just as you do not know what it is like to now be heir of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She glances at him and her twin continues.

“We both have the burdens of our parents to bear. We wear crowns too heavy for us.” Jace is solemn.

Jaenara bites her lip hard and lets out a shaky breath. A sickly sheen of guilt settled in her stomach. It was true that she had not considered what the rest of her family had been feeling of late. She seats herself beside Jacaerys and the bed groans under their weight once more. 

“I am sorry Jace.” Is all she can muster up.

Jace places a reassuring hand over her own. “You may yet make some use out of your upcoming marriage.”

Confused, Jaenara looks to her brother.

“Aemond is a fierce fighter. He is well versed in the histories and philosophies. I hear he has become a knowledgeable strategist. He rides the largest and oldest dragon, who is no stranger to battle.” Copper eyes meet lilac eyes. “And with you as his wife, he will be in our pocket.”

“He would be a formidable ally to have. But Aegon holds a seat on mother’s council - not Aemond.” Jaenara asserts.

“I as heir and you as his wife could sway this decision.”

“Mother has not even been crowned and you are already scheming.” Jaenara’s words are not so chiding as they are playful.

“Not scheming. I only hold our best interests in mind.” Jace tells his sister.

She looks him over once more. When had they become so…grown-up?

“You tell me you are fearful of wearing the crown one day…I think you will come to wear it well.” Jaenara softly smiles as Jacaerys scoffs and rises to his feet. 

“Just think it over, Nara,” He turns to the door, “You must rest. We rise early in the morning and depart for King’s Landing.” 

Before he leaves, he throws a glance at his sister over his shoulder. “I won’t let any harm come to you…from him.”

Jaenara does not let on how much the words mean to her. She has always disguised her true feelings under a cover of dripping sarcasm. “You need not worry about me, brother. Perhaps you should protect him from me.”

Jacaerys laughs and leaves again.

As Jaenara climbs into bed, she considers her brother's words.

Where he may prove to fail as a husband, he could make up for as an advisor. A weapon.

The princess blows out the candle and dreams.

In her slumber, Jaenara is face to face with Aemond Targaryen. He stands opposite to her, in front of a throng of people. She looks down and sees herself clad in an ornate dress of scarlet, white, and gold. Her black hair is pinned up in several twisting braids. The One Eyed Prince looks to his beautiful bride, eye full of admiration. For a moment, she thinks he might love her.

She thinks she may like that.

Suddenly, gasps are heard around the crowd. The gasps morph into shouts, scattered all over the Great Hall. A sharp pain. Jaenara feels a sticky warmth envelop her cheek, and feels something dribble onto her wedding gown. She reaches a trembling hand up to her face, pulls it back, and watches blood soak her palm, dripping below her wrist and all the way down the length of her arm. The wails echoing throughout the hall only grow around her. It is maddening. A sickening pop makes her blood run cold and she watches as one of her eyes rolls onto the floor below. 

Her husband’s mouth moves yet his voice comes out delayed, a haunting chorus.

An eye for an eye.

Jaenara wakes to another knock at her door. 

“My lady, may I help you dress?”

The princess wills her breath steady and wipes the sweat from her brow.

“Come…come in!” She calls out to her handmaiden. 

There was no time to dwell on the meaning of dreams.

— — — 

Prince Aemond sits across from Helaena as her children busy themselves with their toys. A handmaiden hands Jahaerys a toy dragon, which the boy launches at his brother. 

“I think I will be glad to see them today,” Helaena says suddenly, looking up from her embroidery, “In truth, I have missed Jaenara.”

Aemond continues to watch his niece and nephews play as he answers his sister, “You may be the only one amongst us who feels that way,” He mutters, “Though I do remember how close you and Jaenara were as children.”

Helaena had been an even lonelier child than she was now, as a lonely young woman. Always murmuring words that his family could not understand, and did little in trying to understand. Aemond had always felt sorry for her. But Jaenara did not seem to mind her aunt’s off putting nature. He recalls them as young girls, running throughout the castle gardens together, trying to catch butterflies. He remembers as they grew older, a few young ladies in court had taken to calling his sister, Helaena The Hysterical.

Before Aemond could put an end to the name calling, Jaenara had done it herself. The girls in court would not so much as look at either of them wrong.

And most of all, Jaenara listened to Helaena. Something nobody in his family seemed to do. Not even him, in truth. 

“I would hope you two can become close as well,” She gives her brother a wistful look, “You are to be married.”

“I think us siblings are doomed to hold strained relationships - at best - with their marriage partners.” Aemond replies. 

Helaena looks down at her sewing. Maelor and Jaehaerys fight over a wooden horse. Aemond’s sister remains in front of him, though she looks as though she is worlds away.

“Those child led astray finds solace in the embrace of the sea.” she whispers.

Aemond’s attention is redirected from children to mother. A silence passes over him and his sister’s handmaids.

More innocuous ramblings, he thinks.

A servant enters the door to inform the sibling’s of The-Queen-To-Be’s arrival.

“Come, sister,” Aemond begins, “Alicent will be waiting for us. She wishes to receive our family in the Great Hall.”

Helaena sets down her embroidery and looks up at her brother, “A dragon’s ambition foretells his own undoing.” 

Aemond chooses not to hear her words.

— — —

Jaenara and her family’s reception in the Great Hall could not have felt more strained. Guarded expressions and tight lipped smiles adorned Alicent and her children - though Aemond and Aegon had not smiled at all. Helaena seemed blissfully unaware of the anxious energy surrounding her. Jaenara had sent a secret smile her way - a genuine one. And though she felt her uncle’s eyes boring into her, she refused to meet his gaze. 

Rhaenyra had been displeased by the whole ordeal, hoping to ease tensions at dinner. Jaenara found herself remembering the last dinner she had shared with her entire family and thought it to be an impossible task.

Jaenara had spent the time before dinner settling into her new chambers, though all her belongings had already been settled into place before her arrival. The room felt more inviting than her chamber’s in Dragonstone, which were drab and dreary. Though, this was the only silver lining she could find about her circumstances thus far.

When the time had come to prepare for the evening, the princess disrobed from her riding leathers, the smell of dragon peeling off along with them. Her handmaidens help her to dress in a gown that Rhaenyra had picked out for her.

I do not even have the agency to dress myself now?

Jaenara stepped into a dress of crushed velvet, a dark teal in color. The neckline was embroidered with pearls, illuminating her collarbones. The sleeves of the gown hang loosely and open at her wrists, revealing a pale cream color which lines the teal. A belt of silver bangles mixed with pearls hangs around her waist, crested above the teal, cream, and aquamarine shades of fabric that pool to the floor. The attire bore the unmistakable air of Velaryon fashion. The wearer, not so much.

Portions of Jaenara’s dark silky hair were re-braided into a ring, as if it were a crown sitting atop her head, while the rest of her hair remained loose. Black waves ran down her back like a waterfall. 

Her ladies had been told to do this, to help her into a fine gown. To adorn her ears and wrists with bangles. To fix her hair in a way that flattered her face.

To impress him.

She almost laughs out loud at the thought. Jaenara figured that Aemond would find her as charming as he had found that pig he’d been gifted all those years ago.

She decides to regard him similarly, despite her thoughts drifting to long platinum hair that she envied so much. 

Her maids had finally finished with their work. 

Jaenara is sitting around a great wooden table in the dining hall, with the entirety of her family. Servants have begun to deposit plates filled with meats and vegetables and pies and cakes all around. The clanking of plates and silverware fills an otherwise quiet room. Jaenara is begrudgingly sitting next to her uncle, and Jace and Luke shoot her looks of pity from across the table. She picks up her glass and takes a swig.

Suddenly, Rhaenyra Targaryen speaks, “I wish to clear the air,” She begins and everyone looks up from their plates. Alicent Hightower seems especially stiff. 

“I do not wish for this to be a time of tension and formalities - though I do thank you,” She looks at Alicent directly, “for your welcoming reception earlier today. I want us to speak freely amongst each other. I want only what our father, Viserys, wanted.” She makes a gesture towards her siblings at the end of her sentence. Aegon clears his throat.

“There is much to discuss in the coming days, but I want this to be a night of camaraderie and celebration.” Her mother stands, drink in hand, “Let us raise our glasses-”

Jaenara feels herself melting into her chair.

“-To the union between my cherished daughter, Jaenara Velaryon, and the prince Aemond Targaryen. May their union bring strength and prosperity to our noble houses, and may it be blessed by the gods." Her voice held a hint of cautious optimism, echoing the hopes and dreams of a realm poised on the brink of new alliances.

Jaenara lifts her glass, as well as her attention to the man next to her. Aemond is already looking at his niece, a smirk on his face. 

To everyone’s surprise, Alicent Hightower rises from her seat. She looks less burdened from the words of Rhaenyra.

“Thank you, Your Grace…for your unflinching understanding.” The two women share a look, “And to Jaenara and Aemond. A lovely match indeed.”

Helaena begins to clap, though no one else around the table shares her sentiments.

Aegon lets out an audible laugh at the toastings, “Apologies,” he adds quickly, “I am just so - overjoyed by this…marriage.” His voice drips with sarcasm. 

Jaenara forces a smile, though her eyes shine with a different expression, “I am happy this match pleases you, uncle.” 

However, Aemond does not let the jab pass unanswered. "I hope your joy does not swell too greatly, brother," he retorts, "for dragons have been known to breathe fire when overshadowed." 

Jaenara sits up straighter when she sees Aegon roll his eyes and throw back his cup. She regards Aemond with a quizzical gaze. The princess regarded Aemond’s retort as nothing more than a brotherly spat. Before any more slights can be passed around, the servants finish bringing out the rest of the food. The family begins their dinner and small conversations break out amongst those resigned to sit next to each other.

The princess watches her brothers laugh with Baela and Rhaena. Sees her mother and step-father speak with one another. She pushes her food around her plate.

The sudden sound of Aemond’s voice makes her jump, “The cooking of the castle staff does not please you?” he asks, amused.

Jaenara stops playing with her food and her eyes cut away to her uncle.

“The first conversation you wish to have with me - in years - is whether or not I like our meal?” her voice drips with condescending skepticism, “As if the fate of the realm hinges on my opinion of pigeon pie?”

He tsks at her, “Always so difficult niece. I am only attempting to make conversation. An endeavor that seems beneath you - a pursuit you avoid at all costs if it is with me.”

“You are just…quite bad at it.” Jaenara remarks.

It is Aemond’s turn to take a sip of his drink to hide his annoyance.

“I do enjoy that…costume you’re wearing. But you are more a Targaryen than a Velaryon - don’t you agree?” Aemond says lowly.

Jaenara knows his remarks are meant to be demeaning, though she tries to take it in stride. She was a Targaryen after all. And she was pleased that she acted so much like one that people took notice, even if it was Aemond. But an insult was an insult all the same. 

Exasperated, Jaenara turns to the prince fully, “Is this what I can expect when married to you? Insults thrown at me for all my days to come? You should know I can deal them out as well, twice as hard.”

Aemond chuckles, “You are too easy and quick to provoke, Jaenara. You are too tense.” She sees something flicker beneath his eye.

Aemond took pleasure in goading his niece, reveling in the predictability of her fiery responses. More silence passes between them. The prince watches Jaenara force a few bites of food into her mouth and continues to eavesdrop on conversations around her. Daemon whispers something to Rhaenyra, and her mother takes a glance at her daughter and half-brother. Jaenara winces. 

“You asked what you can expect being my…wife,” Aemond’s surprisingly soft gaze is already fixed upon her, “You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love. But one founded on mutual…respect. Understanding. We shall navigate this pact with the grace and duty befitting of our situation if you would only allow it.” His words somehow put her at ease.

Jaenara is perplexed. Maybe her mother had been right in saying that Aemond had changed. Though she was skeptical of his remarks. It was yet uncertain whether they could truly let go of all that had transpired in the past. 

Although, the princess felt ever the faintest tinge of disappointment at his words.

“Well…” She begins, though her words do not come out as strong as she would like them to under her uncle’s intense stare, “I am…pleased to hear that. We do not have to feign ignorance then. I expected nothing more from us.”

To Jaenara’s dismay, Aemond seems amused. It is not so often she stumbles over her words. His gaze lingers over her. He takes notice of the pearl that sits prettily below her collarbones. He watches her eyes fall to her hands, which she wrings in her lap. Jaenara finds that she does not like how being at a loss for words makes her feel, and decides to throw back her drink, trying to find comfort in the bottom of the chalice.

[venussaidso]

𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 🖊️

in video format to hone in my points.

more notes.

ashwini moon native troy baker voiced loki in multiple medias, including avengers assemble and lego marvel super heroes.

tom hiddleston's version of loki uniquely emphasizes this aries + ketu theme of ruling through conquest and trickery (thor (2011), avengers (2012) & thor: the dark world (2014)), setting him apart as a direct "lord of war", rather than being a jester.

similarities between loki and hela:

both feel entitled to the throne of asgard, harbouring resentment and anger when it is denied to them (ketu and heirdom themes).

their relationship with thor is marked by rivalry and attempts at dominance (uncertain of thor's astrological significance to be caught in conflicting positions with a raven-haired sibling, twice, who has ashwini influence – could be a coincidence).

they have daddy issues. their father, odin, is played by a mula moon native. interesting, as mula is the one who sees those whose roots are pure or not. though debatable if he's a terrible parent, loki's roots had been highlighted as monstrous and hela was a sociopath. this could go back to ashwini's association with serial killers, contrasting mula's inherent force of goodness and ashwini still finding itself (acting out selfishly and destructively for the self, 1H themes of identity are more prominent with loki though).

both possess a ruthless desire for power and control, which is vampiric and draining on a massive scale (causing literal genocide — ketu is the great destroyer and mars is the great conqueror).

loki excels in illusion, shapeshifting, and deception (already touched on this through other ashwini characters of the same abilities). his deceptive and trickster nature, again, linking back to ketu. the mcu character agatha harkness is a trickster who is played by an ashwini moon native, and has been compared to loki as she is infamous for her backstabbing, mischievous tendencies.

both loki and hela struggle with feelings of abandonment and loneliness. they quite literally live in the shadow of thor, who could be played by a possible uttara phalguni moon native (which explains loki-hela being shadows of the sun, which would be thor. ketu is darkness and ignorance, while sun illuminates and wards off darkness. thor could be interpreted as a solar native. sun nakshatras are very kingly themselves, after all).

both commanded terrifying armies, solidifying their roles as forces of destruction. hela's army were skeletal, zombie-like soldiers while loki's army were fearsome chitauri alien creatures. army = war, battle. battle and wars = mars. loki and hela both make the most sense as aries characters, especially ketu with their association to beastly creatures as they were commanding them under their war-like force (aries, again again again *thinking of ARES, THE god of war*).

loki’s green-and-gold and hela’s black-and-green armours are interesting. another highlight of the colour green is in the character morgana. although, green is exclusively associated with mercury. but, green is said to lessen anxiety, evoke a sense of renewal, hope, and new beginnings... literal ashwini themes. ashwini = rejuvenation, healing, freshness... all the energy which green possesses.

artemisia in the film 300: rise of an empire also wears gold-and-black, much like loki did in thor: the dark world. she's played by ashwini native eva green. this is all a coincidence but a funny one. gold makes far more sense too, as the ashwini kumaras are the golden armoured horse headed twins. speaking of horses, loki is the parent of sleipnir.

in the mcu and norse mythology, both hela and loki are figures associated with or commanding wild beasts — a major ketu hint. hela is the master of fenris, a gigantic undead wolf. in norse mythology, fenris is instead ruled under loki – which just signifies the ashwini influence. loki is the literal father/mother of some of the most terrifying beings including fenrir, jörmungandr (a large serpent) and sleipnir (an eight-legged horse) and hel herself who is beast-like too.

there is an interesting connection with serpents and aries (and ketu, as ketu is the tail of the serpent or dragon), as the serpent is the sacred animal of ares, the god of war. the serpent was a symbol of rejuvenation to the ancient greeks because it shed its skin — and ares has a lot of animal symbolisms!!! ares was also associated with famous dragons: the ismenian dragon and the colchian dragon.

(source, left: LOKI - The Hell's Children by tomzj1 on DeviantArt; source, right: vikingtrinkets)

loki's 3 terrifying animal children in norse myths, and one of them being hela's pet in the mcu (ketu, again again again again).

loki's redemption arc is interesting, as i already explored such a theme in my sun dominant themes post. there, i touched on ashwini as well, and talked about renewal and new beginnings, and how these themes further support the sun's exaltation in ashwini. loki's redemption arc is literally representative of a new beginning from his infamously backstabbing, trickster nature.

I'm still learning; this is just me laying out the obvious for myself. I might come back to this as it's laid foundation of my thoughts regarding this nakshatra. It's nothing much for now.

[nalyra-dreaming]

What do you think about the choice to change the circumstances around Claudia's turning from the book? Lestat doing it almost just to see what would happen/baby trapping Louis vs Lestat doing it because Louis, out of his mind from grief, begged him to.

Hmm.

Difficult :) I have to expand a bit here, to explain my thoughts:

The show... made some very welcome choices, they made Louis "more", they made it all "more" in a way, they updated the story, and I'm glad they did.

But by doing that they created, let's call it repercussions.

Because... every little change has ripple effects on arcs, and there are arcs in the books. Arcs that span all thirteen books of the VC.

The Lestat in the book is very young still. Only like 10 years a vampire. 30 years in mortal age. He has had a shit life, has been raped into darkness, impossible choices laid at his feet (letting his mother die and his lover behind, both of which he could not), got beef (to put it mildly) with Armand almost immediately because he unknowingly broke the rules that Armand lived by, and then traveled the world, increasingly disillusioned, until Marius found him. And sent him to live out a human life after the little fiasco with Akasha, because Lestat was so young still.

A lot of the events unfolding hinges on the fact that Lestat is still very young. And almost naïve. Rash. Very impulsive. He wants to see what happens. He is hungry for the world (again). And he is very close in powers to Louis.

He falls head over heels in love with Louis, fatally, and wants to keep that love, because of all the shit that already has happened, in such a short amount of time.

The Lestat in the show is not that.

He is ~130 years old when he encounters Louis. A lot more jaded, a lot more... angry. A lot more powerful, too. We know he returned to Paris, and I think the show has already given us the hints as to the "why" with the dates on Nicolas' tomb as well as the Talamasca files.

We know he encountered Akasha (and therefore Enkil and Marius) as well. We know Marius still slapped him with a gag order. Likely also threatened him, like in the book. But we don't know why Marius had sent this older Lestat away (or why Lestat may have left, which is also a possibility, given the backstory Armand told). The Lestat who had not only been turned at a later point in life, but also had likely encountered Marius and Those Who Must Be Kept at a point where he had already lived "a mortal life".

This Lestat knows a thing or two about covens, and the passage of time, better than the book Lestat does. He addresses the loneliness in the opera, with Louis, they address it at the trial. He knows that loneliness. This Lestat has had, by returning to Paris, to deal with Armand, repeatedly. He and Armand have not found a way to consume their relationship, for reasons that will likely stay the same as in the book but which weigh much more heavily, imho, if broken up again and again, over the decades (by Lestat returning). Something likely also happened to make the theater relocate.

This Lestat likely knows the rules a lot better. Knows what Armand can do, and does, too.

This Lestat knows that there's only a few dozen of them out there and what that means for them in terms of loneliness and pain much better, too.

This Lestat knows what it means for Claudia if he turns her this young. Maybe he's seen it. Maybe not. But he has experience. A LOT more experience living this existence.

There were hints that he understands, very well, like the not-translated rant at the chess game. Like the resistance to Claudia being turned, even in Louis' first version. Like the opera. A lot of discussions and comments to Louis.

And there were hints that there were things that made him afraid. And that he really, really did not want them to go to Paris.

Which must have had reasons, obviously.

There were hints already in the show and interviews, that Armand might have more to do with Nicolas' death than... even in the book (where he starves him, drives him even more mad, and chops of Nicolas' hands!!).

This Lestat must have known about Armand's reasoning there, the reasoning we hear some of as well when Armand is threatening to burn Louis in the tunnels in s2. Because he must have heard them, or heard of them, after Nicolas.

All this combined....

All this combined made it quite logical for me that this Lestat... would not have the drive to "see what happens". He has likely seen what happens. Maybe not first hand, but he has seen enough.

He also knows the rules others live by, and knows what would happen if she would encounter certain other vampires.

This Lestat could only be forced emotionally, despite his better judgement - because he already had that better judgment.

This is the "Lestat side of things". :)

The "Louis side of things" has similar changes to consider which carry repercussions.

This Louis is a bit older, too. He is also harder, or can be harder, has a "business persona" that he carries like a shield.

He is under constant pressure, a lot more and way more stifling pressure than his book counterpart. This Louis wears a lot of hats (as Jacob put it), never really fitting in anywhere.

And Lestat, obviously aided by the mind gift :)) - sees him.

Challenges him on that.

For Louis this being seen must have felt cataclysmic. And it was, it came with life-changing events, of course, but the decision to accept those events was born from this being seen, this awareness of the entirety of his being, the good, the bad, the ugly.

It came with the promise to free Louis from the shackles of the world around him.

And of course that promise... had to fail.

And it made Louis suffer.

Of course.

The disappointment stemming from that simple fact, the disillusionment of that promised freedom being an illusion ... must have been like poison, on every breath.

I would like to point out that it was not a deliberately "fake promise", imho. The Dark Gift did free Gabrielle, she quite literally threw off the shackles of society, I bet we'll see that in s3. But it could not do the same for Louis, and it must have hurt them both.

That breaking, broken promise then tainted everything, whether they wanted it to, or not.

Louis' moral arguments re killing were never that in the book, and I don't think they're here as well. Louis' efforts to control his eating are means to regain control over a life that has spiraled out of control, because he cannot return.

When the Storyville arc unfolds, Louis is watching the repercussions of his actions. He has been rash, he has been arrogant, and he has reveled in it, for a moment. And now others suffer for it.

Letting himself go in the "vampiric way" has resulted in a lot of suffering.

That is the lesson that sticks.

His mother sees the devil, he has frightened his sister and her children. Deep down Louis knows that there is no way back, that he is other. Deep down he knows he will only find happiness with his own kind.

And he rejects that notion, of course, because the promise has broken.

He leaves Lestat, because ultimately Lestat is the reason he killed the Alderman. Because Louis cannot help but reject the vampiric aspects of himself at that point.

But Louis loves Lestat.

And he knows it, too.

And so he is stuck in that catch-22, in that predicament, needing to find a way out, aware there is none, unable to truly leave, and wanting to return.

And Claudia... Claudia is the answer.

Claudia is the band aid for the rift. Claudia is the reason to return. Claudia sees him as an angel. Claudia is the bargaining chip.

It's never about her. Unfortunately.

Claudia, the daughter of a family he cannot have (had) otherwise.

Because Louis knows, that even in a mortal life, he would not have had children, in all likelihood.

Because Louis is gay. Oh, he has of course the possibility, if he bends himself into shape. But when we meet him it is clear he only keeps the facade. By entering a relationship with Lestat, no matter the vampiric aspect, he dismissed that possibility, too.

And that, too, gnaws at him.

Louis, in the show, has to ask Lestat to turn her, because Lestat knows better.

And Louis needs to ask, because it is the only way he can consolidate all the warring pieces within himself, his self, his world, his state of being, his morals, his hopes - for a while at least.

[rnadett]

"Caitlyn did not grant Zaun independence."

There's no current evidence for that. When Jayce negotiated with Silco, he promised a seat on the council and independence.

Since Jayce and Silco's situation mirrors Caitlyn and Sevika's, and we know the writers love parallels, it's likely that this is what happened.

So there is a high chance that Zaun gained independence as well, not just a seat on the council.

But whether yes or no - Let’s analyze the political situation after the war in Piltover from a rawer, more realistic perspective:

The new council members are relatives of the previous members—households. This is an important detail that most overlook. Due to their resentment, they will likely never reach the level (or after a long journey) where they can understand Zaun's situation, like Caitlyn did by the end of season two. However, Caitlyn, unlike them, genuinely wants to help Zaun.

Who better to represent Zaun's interests than Sevika, who, unlike Silco, would never abandon anyone?

(Yes, I know, Ekko. But the fact that he wasn't the one—there’s a reason for that, which we’ll probably learn from the spin-offs.)

Silco unlike Sevika - was never truly loyal to anyone but himself - He would have sacrificed everyone, except for Jinx, making him unfit to represent all of Zaun's people, since he even enslaved the next generation (employing children in factories) to maintain his power.

Unfortunately, by the end of season two, the political situation wasn’t one that could be solved with a snap of the fingers, especially considering everything that had happened in the second season, or that Zaun would ever truly be in a position to retaliate without massive losses.

(And for those who think this would be the right solution—I don't understand why there should be repeated bloodbaths? To more innocent people die? For what? To put your ego before the sake of people? For revenge? After finally both side willing to cooperate?)

Another important point, as mentioned earlier: council positions are inherited in Piltover, not filled through elections, so if Caitlyn had wanted to include more Zaunites, it wouldn’t have been possible. In the beginning of s2 she could only be "the leader" because Ambessa didn’t just manipulate her, but also the influential houses, who empowered Caitlyn with this position. Caitlyn, in turn, accepted this position because of the manipulation, even though she never asked for it (just as Zaun's people made Jinx a symbol, though she never asked for it).

By the end of the season, neither Mel nor Jayce were in the council to form a unified majority with Sevika and Shoola, nor did Mel give up her position for another Zaunite (this could have been independent of her; we don’t know if Piltover exiled her or if the rest of the council was only willing to compromise with one Zaunite member).

Also Caitlyn gave up much of the political influence guaranteed by her family name (- since Caitlyn didn't want her mother's privileges in season one either). This was a massive loss of prestige for her house, something she was aware of - and just likely, after Silco’s death, the Chem Barons began shifting their power - (After all, these people—regardless of whether they were born as Chem Barons or council members—will always be greed-driven hyenas.) - The Kiramman family’s wealth was slowly being dismantled politically—its retention would have only been guaranteed by remaining on the council. Caitlyn consciously gave that up with putting Sevika and Zaun in her position.

As I said, politics in Arcane is much rawer—gradually less visible—than it can be portrayed.

If we look further down the rabbit hole, or even back to season one, the events hint at this pattern.

What else happened politically in the first season, and how did it unfold during season two?

If it could be visually represented and quickly understood by people, 3/4 of the fandom, for example, would blame Heimerdinger—the true culprit of Zaun's neglect—not Caitlyn or Jayce (season one).

He was the one who had been the most influential figure in Piltover for 200 years, spanning countless generations of council members, until Mel turned the power dynamics in the council in Jayce’s favor. After that, Jayce immediately saw what Heimerdinger had ignored—the damage caused by Zaun’s systemic neglect, a consequence of Heimerdinger’s 200 years of blind governance. Heimerdinger was the one who always hypocritically spoke about the safety of inventions, but under his supervision, toxic factories were built, which sickened people, like his own assistant (Viktor).

His real fear of Hextech had nothing to do with abandoning Zaun.

Everyone in Piltover knew about the toxic factories—even the Kiramman family, who provided Zaun with ventilation systems. Heimerdinger failed every generation, even Vi and Jinx’s parents, and even after the civil war, he never crossed the bridge, during which this generation lost many people. Moreover, Heimerdinger’s irresponsibility contributed to Jayce and Viktor building the Hexgate in a way that poisoned Ekko's tree, as he was still one of the leading scientists and most influential council members at that time (before Mel shifted the political power dynamics) - so the responsability was not just theirs but he also was responsible for it.

Against all this, Caitlyn in season one completely went against Heimerdinger’s ignorance. Her first action in s1 was to go down to Zaun—not taking 200 years—and see the other side as well. Contrary to the fandom’s (again) misinterpretation, she was the first character to show real empathy for Zaun. This is symbolized by her relationship with Vi, which also built the foundation for Ekko and Heimerdinger to work together (which I will elaborate on below).

Let's jump to season two right after the ending events of season 1 : Despite Caitlyn's grief and anger, she always stuck to one of her core principles (with varying degrees of success): no Zaun civilian should be harmed. And before you think that’s bullsh*t, let me explain further:

Caitlyn’s kill count among Zaun’s people is ZERO.

I’ll explain this in more detail soon, but first I need to build the puzzle:

First of all:

What was Ambessa’s real plan with the memorial attack?

I think we all clearly saw that she didn’t want to let the desire for revenge 'extinguish in Piltover's heart.' But her more important goal was to:

Find the perfect person who would serve her manipulation best, someone with enough influence and respect in the eyes of Piltover’s houses and someone who, due to their inexperience and blinded anger, is malleable enough to serve her interests.

Caitlyn always struggled against Piltover's propaganda within herself—and the seed of this was her rogue mission to Stillwater in the first season. By the end of the first season, this seed could have blossomed into a flower. However, when her mother died (an event she blamed herself for) and after she felt that Vi had "betrayed" her (a parallel to Jinx), it was like cutting down that flower. The roots remained, but Ambessa hoped that a different kind of plant—one she could guide—would grow in its place.

The moment Caitlyn and her strike team with Vi interrupted the council meeting, Ambessa knew Caitlyn would be the person to build her entire plan around - I think she had a feeling before too - that's why she sent Maddie to be close to her, but after that she was sure. For Maddie she was likely just an ordinary spy for Noxus—sometimes spies operate in foreign nations for decades, even when the two nations are not at war. Why she was chosen? Mostly because Caitlyn caught her attention. In fact, if I delve deeper, it might have been the exact opposite: There is more likely she was the one who told Ambessa to keep an eye on Cait. I mean, if you were in Maddie's shoes, wouldn't it strike you as extremely unusual for Piltover's most influential daughter to choose a profession that’s entirely unbecoming of her rank—one that, no less, focuses on cleaning up the filth of the elite? Of course it would. So, Maddie, and the fact that Noxus’s gaze had irreversibly shifted to Caitlyn, wasn’t a coincidence, especially given that Caitlyn had repeatedly mentioned she had first-hand knowledge of the events.

Also, contrary to another misinterpreted image in the fandom, Caitlyn and Vi did NOT gas all of Zaun. Their plan was a complete cooperation between Vi and Caitlyn, as they fully followed Vi’s plan from season one and the gas was, unfortunately, an added consequence—aka a "necessary evil"—to avoid the real catastrophe: the bloodbath that Salo and the families of the other deceased council members wanted (and likely the majority of Piltover's population supported) under Ambessa's incitement.

So you can critise it all you want, and I in fact agree with your moral ground, but you need to accept some harsh realities too: with this single action, they completely prevented a civil war (which again - Salo, under Ambessa’s leadership, wanted), which likely would have led to the near-extermination of Zaun, with countless civilian and child casualties. But Ambessa wouldn't have been able to actually profit from it, because she wouldn't have had enough time to gain anything from the situation and get closer to her main goal: Hextech. Additionally, with a quick, bloody strike, it’s likely that the majority of Piltover would have eventually opposed her actions/presence in their city- losing her political power.

And as I mentioned before: Contrary to the widespread belief in the fandom, if you check the scenes of The Grey frame by frame from ep 3 and compare them with Episodes 2 and 4, you'll see that the claim "the entire civilian population of Zaun was gassed" is a huge misconception and misinformation.

Caitlyn and Vi only went after Chem Baron members/heads, who kept children like Isha as slaves—whom they also didn’t kill. Only old industrial areas were gassed, which at the time served as Chem-Baron bases.

Moreover, "thanks" to the denser air (mentioned by Ekko in s1) the gas didn’t spread to other areas. Several things confirm this: Ekko’s base is deep within Zaun, yet it wasn’t affected. If the entire Zaun had been gassed, they definitely would have been impacted.

Also Cait and Vi's kill count with this was essentially zero.

Even Chross and Margot were only captured, and the rest were temporarily disarmed with gas and then released (Later, you can see the same gang members at Vander's statue alive and well - but without their leaders) - So the "lethal gas" theory has also been debunked.

The gas itself—likely in dense and concentrated amounts—probably had a "tear gas"-like effect (as evidenced by Jinx's reaction and symptoms). It’s "only" the long-term (years of continuous) inhalation that poses a serious health risk over time.

Following these points, I would like to bring up a few more references, particularly from the perspective of character interactions—or the lack thereof—which ultimately serve as pillars for the above and are interconnected:

Ekko’s lack of intervention in Caitlyn and Vi’s actions shows that they were not against neutralizing the Chem Barons and gang members in Zaun.

The Firelights, as revealed in season one, knew practically everything happening in Zaun, as they were able to track Caitlyn and Vi when even Silco couldn’t.

Ekko completely agreed with neutralizing (capturing) the Chem Barons, as their power struggle involved many refugees.

The Firelight members only turned against Caitlyn/Piltover/oppression when Ekko disappeared (independently of Caitlyn) because they thought Caitlyn had captured Ekko—and when Ambessa, mostly behind Caitlyn's back, used police brutality. Caitlyn, however, was not entirely unaware and held Ambessa accountable. Of course, her biggest mistake was not immediately turning away from her.

So I think Caitlyn's greatest guilt was not the gas (which was again: It was Vi's plan too) But to allowing her anger toward Jinx to ultimately not be directed at Jinx, but rather at everyone else through Ambessa—mainly the innocent civilians, whom she never wanted to harm from the very first season. And the fact that she let this drag on for so long, even though she was lowkey aware of what Rictus had done in Zaun, yet was still able to stay with them for months after that.

I didn’t initially intend to write this post solely about Caitlyn, but everything seemed to land on her, misinterpreted. Also, when talking about political undertones, it’s important to mention that Heimerdinger wasn’t accepted by the Firelights without real confrontation (unlike Caitlyn) because he immediately won their trust, but because Caitlyn, through her interactions with Ekko in season one, had already paved the way for Ekko to trust a Piltover citizen, as Caitlyn nearly died for the cause on the bridge in season one.

Clearly, if Ekko had been there in season two when the enforcers and Noxian soldiers were abusing innocents in Zaun, he would have confronted Caitlyn again, but unfortunately, this didn’t happen. However, at that point, I think Caitlyn just needed a push, as she was full of ongoing internal struggles, which pulled her back to her true self—and that this push came from Vi—more specifically, Vi’s family and all the suffering that their story represented for Zaun—made their relationship much more valuable in this context.

In summary: Politics in Arcane was portrayed very well and complexly, but precisely because it wasn't presented simply to the viewer, many couldn’t/don’t interpret it correctly. Also, just because something wasn't specifically presented on-screen doesn't mean it didn't happen (I'm referring to the first three paragraphs about Zaun's independence), as the writers deliberately connected ALL the scenes and interactions in various ways from season 1.

Thank you for reading all this. :)

Also, If you're curious for even more, I have an 8-minute video analysis where I delve into Heimerdinger's situation—what I hinted at here—mainly through Viktor and Jayce, and you can find the link to it here: https://youtu.be/y7Y__xyDyG8?si=5d5bl-Mc8758Gq6L

[lastoneout]

No but fr we should talk more about how TotK Zelda probably could have learned to use her time powers to fix things without having to turn into a dragon, like all on her own she was able to transport a whole item across 10,000 years which is crazy impressive, but due to Gannon she was thrust into a situation exactly like the one she started in before BotW only worse, and that's probably why the dragon option seemed better.

The only person who could have helped her unlock an incredible power(a figure not dissimilar to her mother) was dead and on top of that Raru(someone who probably felt more like a father to her than her actual father) was ALSO gone and unable to offer her whatever support or guidance he could. She was alone at the end of the world knowing she was the only one who could stop it, and so of fucking COURSE she chose the tangible option even though it would DESTROY her forever rather than spend days, weeks, years, her whole entire lifespan trying and possibly failing to figure out her time power. Not just because she knew the dragon plan had a higher likelihood of success, but because she could not bear to go back to the hell of knowing so many lives depend on her magically discovering how to use her gift without help or any hint that it might actually work.

Zelda chose to sacrifice herself because it would work, but also because like most people who've been through trauma, the very idea of going back was unthinkable. Staying and figuring it out might have worked, but it would have emotionally destroyed her, and physical destruction that will work is, to her, the better option. It's such a profoundly devastating part of the story because her choice makes perfect sense. It's exactly what a traumatized person who's entirely separated from everyone she holds dear and crumbling under the weight of countless lives on her shoulders would choose.

Like ough BotW/TotK Zelda is EVERYTHING I could talk about her forever. The flawed female character of all time. No notes. I wish she hadn't been damseled again but like god this story is going to make me insane forever(high priase) and we got EoW so I'm not gonna complain. God I love her so much.

[rationalnerd62]

I'm feeling weirdly about C3 ending next week (I guess there's some sadness mixed with other stuff, but me, putting feelings into words? Not in my autism), so instead of thinking too much about those feelings, I want to list random things about Bell's Hells I'd like to get resolved or developed, either in that 8.5h finale or in future BH one-shots (cause they've got to have some one day, right? Right?).

It's in no particular order whatsoever, I'm just putting random thoughts out there (and hoping to see other people's random thoughts too).

Titans' shenanigans! Both Ashton and Fearne absorbed a shard, and got some nice abilities out of it, but is there more to explore here? What does this mean for the elemental life of Exandria? Is this a path to some resurgence of the Titans? Are there other shards elsewhere? Will Ashton ever meet some remains of the cult their parents were in? Is that something they're still interested in knowing more about?

Ludinus! I am hoping this won't get resolved in the finale, because this would give big Trent M9 finale vibes and feel rushed, but that damn elf is still somewhere out there! What are his goals now that Predathos is out / the BH finale deals with the Gods in a way or another? Will he ever come back to haunt our characters?

Laudna! The Matron hinted that there was a possible path to her getting back what got stolen from her (aka her mortality). While I never would want for her to become a "normal human mortal" (she should still be able to get a form of dread and play with shadow and have fun with some of her "monstrous" powers!), I honestly will hate it if my favourite CR couple is *another one* of those couples with wildly different aging speed and one of the member of the couple has to outline the other for decades or centuries. Let Imogen and Laudna grow old together in their little cottage! They deserve it! I could see that being resolved as a "gift" from the Gods (if there's a good outcome with them), but I also wouldn't say no to a post-canon story (one shot, novel, comics, who knows) centered on this. I could see both Imogen and Laudna having made their peace with this, and then maybe in a few years they're starting to talk about kids, and there's this realization that Laudna will also outlive those, and that's when she decides that she needs to do *something*. I don't know whether that's possible, but Matthew! More impossible things have been done in your world!

The Shade Mother! Is she still under Jrusar? It's kinda funny that BH's first main arc ended up with them running away and never finishing there ahaha.

Similarly, will they ever go down to find FCG's coin that Orym had thrown under Jrusar? I know at least some of the cast mentioned being curious about that.

Hey, talking about FCC, will BH Talk with Frida? What about D? Our group really didn't have much time to mourn him, so maybe finding the answers FCG was looking for regarding who he is would be a way for them to process their grief.

(I just had a thought about Ashton going back to Jrusar and Milo without FCG and this broke my heart)

Dorian and his family! He has mentioned them before, and we've met his father, but seeing where he grew up and having him introduce Orym would be nice. And vice versa with Orym introducing Dorian to his family (as his partner instead of his friend). But I'm hopeful this'll get brought up in the finale.

Imodna wedding! Because Laura Bailey deserves to have three weddings one-shot.

More Unseelie stuff! Idk, I feel like there was still more to do wrt Fearne & the Feys.

I'm hoping for a moment with Imogen and her parents in the finale. It's really the end of a big journey for Liliana, but there's another journey to start, about rebuilding (or trying to rebuild) those relationships that got affected by her search for answers. There's a "back from the war" vibe here, and I want to see it.

VM got some pre-campaign comics, M9 got some individual character origins comics, BH also deserves some comics! But what type? I'm not sure how I'd feel if it was exactly as what M9 got, so I'm hoping they'll get some original ideas within the CR crew!

Last (for now) but not least, when is Chetney finally going to die?

[anthurak]

I’ve seen some discussion on how we’re likely to get an Octavia song next episode based on this trailer clip we haven’t seen yet (which I very much agree with), and specifically a lot of discussion/assumption about the song being a duet with Stolas.

Now I will say, it is certainly entirely possible that this is what we wind up seeing.

Buuuttt… I can’t help but think it would be more INTERESTING if this was in fact a SOLO Octavia song.

One of the more subtle details about Octavia’s character and a major factor in her dysfunctional relationship with her father is that it seems that Stolas (almost certainly completely unintentionally mind you) has made Octavia almost entirely emotionally dependent on him.

Looking back at both Loo Loo Land and The Circus, it’s pretty clear that for most of the past 19 years, Octavia was the ONLY THING Stolas really cared about. Making sure she was safe, cared for and happy, that was the only thing in Stolas’ life that mattered to him. Likely the only thing he was really even living for.

But again, I imagine that this absolute devotion to his daughter has had the unintended side-effect of making Octavia entirely emotionally reliant on her father.

Not just in the specific cases of Octavia being fairly sheltered and likely unaware of the true context and details of her father’s abusive marriage (which could in turn make it easier for her mother and uncle to manipulate Octavia), but more generally making Stolas not just Octavia’s father, but also basically her only FRIEND.

Which in turn does a lot to explain how and why Stolas has become such a complete and total fuckup of a father to Octavia ever since reuniting with and starting his affair with Blitzo. Stolas had spent the last 17 years caring and even just living for ONE thing; his daughter and her happiness. But then without any warning, Stolas suddenly finds himself caring about someone ELSE. Not just caring, but being completely head-over-heels in LOVE with someone in a way he never thought he could love someone else.

And it’s been abundantly clear for a while now that Stolas had absolutely no fucking idea HOW to properly emotionally process ANY of this.

So is it really so surprising that we’ve seen this recurring trend across the entire show of Stolas completely forgetting about Octavia whenever Blitzo-related shenanigans/bullshit are afoot? He’s spent so long caring about just ONE thing in his whole life that he doesn’t know HOW to balance two things mattering so much to him. So he’s essentially just been flip-flopping between caring ONLY about Octavia, and ONLY about Blitzo.

At least until he threw away everything to save Blitzo… including Octavia.

Which of course in turn gives Octavia EVERY reason to believe that her father is/has abandoned her and doesn’t care about her anymore. She has gone her entire life being the ONLY thing her father cares about to all of a sudden… NOT being the only thing. Even worse is the fact that her father is doing a really shitty job of processing and managing all this so to Octavia it feels like he’s completely forgetting all about her to be with this weird red dickhead. And the worst part is, she’s not entirely WRONG in this belief either. Of course it also doesn’t help that Stolas seems to have been completely unwilling or unable to actually explain what’s going on from his perspective to his daughter.

So to circle back around to where we started; considering how a core part of Octavia’s character and story has been grappling with the fact that she is not a child anymore, I have a feeling that a big part of Octavia’s character going forward could be her learning how to be independent of the father she’s been entirely reliant on her whole life.

We’ve already gotten a lot of hints that we’ll be seeing Octavia inherit Stolas’s power and status and succeed her father as a Goetic Prince. Combined with how it’s pretty clear Stolas has a LOT of work to do in reconciling with his daughter and figuring out how to balance his care for her and his love for Blitzo, I think it’s very plausible that we see Octavia learning how to be more emotionally independent of her father as well.

So I think it’s rather interesting to imagine this starting with Octavia specifically getting a solo-song number in Sinsmas, rather than a duet with her father. Representing how she is starting to learn how to stand on her own.

Of course, Octavia getting a solo-number next episode is what I think would be interesting to see.

If we want to talk about what I’m HOPING we see, well…

Imagine Octavia getting a duet with Loona.

And the best part is that I would even call this plausible, and ties back to what we saw between Octavia and Loona in Seeing Stars.

Because a subtle yet major idea of that episode wound up being that while Stolas, Blitzo and the M&Ms all got sidetracked and distracted from their search for Octavia by various shenanigans and bullshit, it was actually LOONA who tracked down and helped Octavia.

It wasn’t her father who wound up giving Octavia the advice, closure and comfort she so desperately needed at the end of the episode. But instead a young woman not so different from Octavia who could deeply understand and relate to the problems she was dealing with. I think it’s fair to say that in this episode, Loona became Octavia’s first real FRIEND who wasn’t her father.

And I both think and hope that this is going to wind up being VERY important.