#proclamation of the kingdom

[briefblueseason]

Meditations on the luminous mysteries in the LGBTQ rosary by Fr. Don Greene.

🖼️: Baptism of the Lord by Paolo Caliari

Wedding at Cana by Andrei Mironov

Christ Preaching at Capernaum by Maurycy Gottlieb

Transfiguration by Titian

Last Supper by Michael Wolgemut

[dorianmathay]

Watch Bazzini: The Dance of the Goblins. Op. 25 on YouTube Music

(J-D) DURAND. L'Italie de 1815[C.e(&)à.D] à nos jours. éd. HACHETTE supérieur;Vanves.09/2018.2ième édition.160pp.(incl. chronology & bibliography). : Les lettres V.E.R.D.I.(" Vittorio Emanuele Re d'Italia") qui s'étalaient alors sur les murs des villes italiennes étaient, en même temps qu'un hommage au grand compositeur qui enflammait les opéras italiens, le signe de la réussite de cette action. (in op.cit.p40; svCap: II.Le Piémont, puissance européenne. (pp40-42)

[catholic-saint-tournament]

To read up on the mysteries of the Rosary, click here.

[gurugirl]

[1] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 1 Word Count: 8,282

Ch. 1 Warning: smut (not w/Y/n), funeral scene, parental death, manipulation and coercion, corruption kink, humiliation

. .

The sky was gray, which seemed fitting for the occasion, and a single bell from the watchtower at the kingdom's town center slowly clanged the funeral toll.

It was a sad day for the prosperous kingdom of Thornekeep. The king’s funeral was quite the spectacle. There was not one citizen with a dry eye, for King Augustus Styles was beloved by all. The townsfolk stood along the cobbled road as two steeds pulled the king’s covered coffin to the cathedral for a ceremony that would end the elder King Styles’ reign and make way for the prince to be crowned by birthright.

The young prince was at the front of the procession riding on a lone horse wearing battle armor, along with his father’s shield and sword. No one could read his expression as he kept his eyes on the road ahead toward the cathedral. The people of the monarchy were not so keen on the prince. He was not as warm as his father, and he often ruffled feathers. Some would say he was downright mean. But what could they do? He had been brought up for this very thing. To rule and protect the kingdom and its people. They would have to put their trust in him no matter what.

The ceremony was attended by the royal court, Privy Counsellors, Lord Mayor, Realm High Commissioners as well as the family of the King. Prince Harry Styles sat on the woven red wool chair at the front as the announcement was made by the Council and the accession declaration was called before the Prince stood to receive his crown.

When the ceremony had concluded the old Sovereign’s casket was taken again by steed for the final burial where the whole of the kingdom stood in wait as their new King made his proclamation over the land and the kingdom to the public.

And so it was. The new Sovereign of Thornekeep, King Harry Edward Styles, would rule over the people henceforth.

.           .           .

“Your Majesty, we apologize for the intrusion, but it is time to get to the order of official business.”

“You wouldn’t have to apologize if you weren’t intruding, now would you?” Harry’s groggy voice spoke as he remained sprawled on his back in his warm velvet bed with three naked women lying draped over his limbs still fast asleep and unaware of the two men standing at the King’s chambers door.

“May it please Your Majesty if we return in one half-hour’s time? Our Lord Mayor and the Orders of Council are awaiting you in the Great Hall. This is a very important meeting, Sir.”

Harry knew he had a meeting set up. He knew it was important to keep it and he understood the gravity of it all. But he couldn’t resist when he took three lovely young things with him to his chambers the evening prior and they each let him do as he pleased. He’d just been crowned King for Christ’s sake! He deserved to sew his wild oats before things got heavy and real and it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty of his new stifling responsibilities.

“I will find myself in the Great Hall in one half-hour’s time. No need to return.”

“Yes, Sir. And what should we tell the Lord Mayor of your tardiness?”

“Fuck’s sake! I don’t care! Tell them I’ve got my privy member sallying forth and I’m in the sack with three concubines if you like! The Lord Mayor can wait a half hour. Give him a thumb of brandy. Tha’ should keep him with a smile.”

It was this very attitude that had the folk of Thornekeep nervous. Harry’s proclivity for saying what he pleased with little regard for the people he was saying it to.

The two men bowed their heads and backed out the door, closing it behind them before Harry sat up, pushing the women from him and stretching his arms overhead.

His first full day as King. He’d not looked forward to wearing the crown. But he knew what he needed to do and he had no choice just as the kingdom had no choice but to accept him as he was; full of grit and scandal, haughtiness and ego.

His bare feet landed on the heavy wood floors and he scratched his member before draping a sheet over the naked women in his bed. They’d all had too much to drink and Harry figured they could stay put until he returned. Maybe another round or two would do him some good and sober him up before he kicked them out to get back to their duties. Whatever those were.

He robed himself that morning and even though he’d been offered a personal dresser to assist him, he declined. Harry didn’t like the idea of having a valet in wait unless he was feeling like making them watch him fuck whoever he took in his bed for the night. That could be fun… Harry liked being watched. Maybe he’d reconsider and take a personal assistant after all.

The council and mayor were sitting in their places in the Great Hall when Harry sauntered in, unkempt and smelling of muff. Everyone stood and waited until he took his seat at the head of the long wooden table. Light poured in through the stained-glass panel behind him and everyone awaited the King’s call to order.

“We may begin,” he spoke. And so it started.

It was laid out for Harry the major issues that always needed tackling, allocation for funds and the people of Thornekeep, the Kingdom’s allies, and enemies, projects left undone that were awaiting signatures or provisional work. Then there were the upcoming events and additional contracts that needed sorting.

But there was also the concern of the King’s marital status.

“You’ll need a Queen. Someone to continue the Styles’ lineage for Thornekeep. The people will want to know they are under the rule of a stable Sovereign.”

“What does it matter how the people feel? I can rule without a Queen. I’d rather not be hindered.” Harry waved a hand as he spoke unconcerned.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, how do you expect to have a child out of wedlock?”

The cheeky grin that pulled up on Harry’s face had his advisor suddenly standing to stop the King from answering that question but Harry only laughed and looked at the man. “Sit. Do not interrupt me again. I think Our Lord Mayor would like a lesson in biology and I’m not one to turn down a teaching moment.”

The advisor relented with a sigh (what was he to do? tell the King not to speak?), sat back down and Harry began. “One does not need the burden of wedlock to create offspring. It’s quite simple you see…” All the men knew where this was going as Harry continued. “All I need to do is stick my fiddle within the sweet quim whiskers of a beautiful woman and keep it in until I’ve done my duty. Could take a few rounds to set but I imagine soon enough the woman receiving my bounty will be heavy with child and upon the moment of birth will provide me an heir. No need for a marital contract of any sort.”

The men of the council looked around at one another in near shock at Harry’s dismissal of tradition as the Lord Mayor spoke. “That will not do. It is imperative that you find a Queen, my Lord. You need a woman that will raise said heir in the castle with you, bring them up properly, and teach them our ways. This will be your legacy. You must see that.”

Harry knew of course that his words would fall on deaf ears. He knew he’d have to marry and make a show of it. But he did rather enjoy seeing the looks on the faces of the fancy and feathered men, all tensed with their sleek coverings of velvet and wool and white tights tucked into silk and leather shoes with shiny silver buckles and heels that made them appear taller than they were.

“Fine. I’ll have my selection in a fortnight.”

His selection. As if he were choosing a dish to be served for dinner. But that is how Harry saw it after all. He would have his choice of dishes just as he would have his choice of women. It would be the roasted venison with piping hot potatoes, smothered in butter, and artichokes for his dinner, and for his wife, he’d take the pretty redhead with the plump bottom and big bosom lying in his bed. She had the kind of tummy that would take a child well he figured.

Making his way to his chambers he whistled a tune to himself, his mood not diminished by the news of his new tasks, for he was about to wet his fiddle once again. The redhead did seem quite desirable in that moment. But instead, upon entering his room, the redhead was missing.

The two others were lying on their backs and turned to see the King enter. Sitting up quickly Harry pulled his robe off and shut his door. “Where is the redhead with big breasts?”

“She was gone when I woke, Your Majesty,” the one with dark hair spoke.

“Well, bullocks. Do you know her name?”

Both women shook their heads no. “No, King.”

Harry sighed and continued removing his clothes. Well, if he couldn’t find a wife that night, he’d enjoy what was leftover in his room. He had a fortnight after all. Plenty of time to find someone he could tolerate. He had no intention of selecting anyone from the pool of suitable women the advisors told him about. That was a bore.

“You.” He pointed at the fair-skinned girl. “Sit in that chair and face the bed.”

Harry’s undervest was pulled off and he was left naked as he walked up to the one with dark hair and grinned at her. “You’ll suck my cock while she watches.”

He enjoyed his position of power. Women never told him no. Not when he was a prince and certainly not now as King. He had the young woman take him down her throat and checked in with the fair-skinned girl. “Keep watching. Want to make sure you get a good look at how well she does it. Just like last night. This one knows how to suck.”

Her slick mouth encased his girth and he groaned as he stood at the bed, the girl on her hands and knees taking the King on her tongue and gagging violently around his length.

“Oh, a noise maker!” Harry moaned, “Keep up the good work my little whore…”

The girl sputtered and pushed away from him, gasping as she looked up at him. “I’m not a prostitute! I’m–“

Harry interrupted, balking, “I don’t care. Think of it as a term of endearment. Get back and finish the job. It’s much better when you don’t speak.”

“King… perhaps you could just fuck me? My throat is starting to hurt.” She rounded her eyes at him.

He sighed as if it were an annoyance. “Okay. Turn around, face down.” He looked over at the girl on the chair. “Still watching?”

She nodded. “Yes, King.”

Harry poked himself into the pretty woman and she was already slick for him. He enjoyed a cunt just as much as he enjoyed a mouth and the view he had was rather delightful. He rocked into her and watched as her pussy lips gripped him, her insides coating him with a glisten that smelled like a proper cock wrapper.

His heart began to thud harder as he thrust into the hilt, smacking his hips into her soft round bottom and moaning in gasps as he felt his testicles squeeze and tighten. 

The girl was making her own little grunted noises but Harry wasn’t concerned if she finished or not.

Harry’s breathy moans changed into something deeper and more guttural the closer he got and he began to pound into her harder.

“Ahh! Oh!” She hollered as she was spread open by the King’s large cock.

But before she could even find her end Harry was pulling himself from her and spraying her back with his royal come and moaning in delight at his release.

The girl fell into the bed with a whine and the King noted the one watching was sitting at the edge of her seat with her eyes upon his cock.

“S’nice in’nit?” He turned toward her with his member in his palm. “Clean it off. Let’s make my knob shiny and new again.”

The girl was quick to lean in and take him in her mouth, licking off the slick from the other one who was left unsatisfied on the bed.

And when he’d had quite enough and his prick was deflating he parted from the girl and patted her cheek. “There we are. Off you go. Both of you. I’ve got to find myself a Queen.”

 .           .           .

Y/n had seen the procession with the new King from his father’s funeral at the cathedral. He was a handsome man with a strange emotion set on his face. She couldn’t tell what it was, but sadness, it was not. She’d heard all the talk about him from when he was a Prince. An ass of a man with an ego the size of Rome. And now, worries of the new King’s reckless attitude being trouble for Thornekeep.

No one could know exactly what to make of it. He’d not yet really had a chance to do much of anything. As Prince, he served in the Royal Army. It was said that he led a very strict outfit during times of conflict and was good at negotiation. That he loved confrontation and could coordinate a group of soldiers to be the best and most feared on the lines. But what did that mean for the citizens of his kingdom? The monarchy relied on his strength and wits to lead. While it was a promising thing that he was good at combat and negotiation, what about the finer details of being a sovereign leader? How would the people fare?

 “Right prat our new king. Doesn’t give a shite about us lot. You wait and see. S’gonna fuck the poor til we’re caged up like hogs. I don’t trust ‘im.” Lane was three quarts of beer in and Y/n watched as he guzzled from his tin.

The pair were sitting outside in the cold near the corner of the factory where the middle-income earners worked. Hoping for any scraps they might be willing to part with.

Y/n was a beggar. She would hold out her fabric basket or her satchel and try to look as haggard and tired as she could. But most just sniffed at her and walked past. She was young and while not the picture of health with her greasy hair and bones protruding, she was not fully unhealthy either. Most who gave to the poor were poor themselves. So she tried to look worse off to get anything she could.

A loaf of bread, a small salt fish, and whatever fibrous mash of grains and beans could be spared was allotted to each household weekly. And for Y/n, that was not enough food for her parents, her grandmother, and her three little sisters. She often went without eating and was the only one who could handle the chilled air for hours at a time to beg anyone who would spare a morsel.

Thornekeep was a rich, thriving kingdom but as was the norm for every city, town, and kingdom across the land, poor people did exist. Y/n had heard tales of other kingdoms that never allotted any food to households. And how some didn’t even have a roof over their heads at all. She was told she should be thankful that she wasn’t sleeping on the streets with the rats and their excrement as was common elsewhere.

But she wasn’t thankful. Her lot in life was hell. No one deserved to be treated as she was even if she was given a monthly stipend.

The debutante was held a week after King Harry’s crowning. Of course, Y/n would not attend. She was not of that world nor even close to being in a league where one would want her hand in marriage. What a laugh! Y/n imagined herself being presented among all the young beauties in their fine dresses with jewels and pinned and curled hair. What man would look at her and think he’d offer a proposal?

The young ladies and their mothers were all dressed to the nines. Shoulders held back, hair pinned high, fake smiles plastered on their faces… They were there to show the kingdom they were eligible for marriage and to compete for the king’s eye.

King Harry would be in attendance to select a bride for himself. He seemed to reject the normal route of having a queen selected for him. There were many who were raised up for that very thing and so his choice should have been easy. But he was stubborn. No one was surprised. Every woman presented to him, of those that his court felt would be a good match, he hardly even looked at before rudely sending away. 

Gossip traveled through Thornekeep as the ball was held to show off the citizens’ most beautiful and affluent daughters around. If he didn’t want the perfectly crafted, and trained young women fit to be his wife and queen, then perhaps he’d find one at the ball.

As always, Y/n sat perched near the castle gates holding out a small fabric basket for anyone to give anything and, as always, the scraps she did get were barely fit for filthy stray street dogs. Most of the people on that day were tucked away and out of sight in their covered carriages, horses trotting past, kicking up mud. She was used to being disappointed. Used to being ignored. Used to going hungry at the end of the day.

 "Dungworms, all 'em. Don't care if they dress in linen and fur. They're nothing but beetle-headed rot. Hate all 'em," Lane moaned as a coach passed them by. He threw a vulgar gesture toward them, but only after they were out of sight. It wasn't worth it to get in trouble over.

"S'true. Can't wait for the Spring. At least then we'll have the sun warming us while all the ratbags pretend they're better than us."

They laughed as they looked into the gates that were opening for the carriage. The castle was a majestic landmark. Y/n imagined that inside it was warm with fireplaces in every room and a hot stove in the kitchen that was constantly cooking food for the king and all his staff.

Maybe one day she'd be lucky enough to sneak inside without being caught. She could hide in one of the many rooms and pilfer food little by little and warm her bum at night by one of the fires.

She sighed at the silly dream, as her stomach growled and the gates clanked shut.

 . .

The young women were all pretty enough. Harry was sure any one of them would be a fit. It wasn’t like he needed to do more than fuck the new queen until she was pregnant anyway but still… He found the freshly washed, smooth-skinned, rose and powder-scented young ladies of Thornekeep to all be a bore. And what good was making such a boring selection? Harry wanted people to watch. He wanted to see as all the advisor’s jaws fell to the floor. He wanted to make a scene. None of these fancy-frocked girls would do. He needed something more exciting that would really ruffle everyone’s feathers.

Stepping away from the pomp and circumstance of the ball he stood out on his balcony and watched out over the front of the castle yard with people milling about and stringed music floating up toward him. The gates were open with guards at the stand as new arrivals made their way in but he noticed a small group of peons sitting not far from the wall with their baskets and tins held out hoping for a scrap.

And he had a sudden idea. Using his small telescope he fitted it against his eye and lengthened the eyepiece to get a better look. Among the group of menials was a young woman. She was thin (too thin) and she had a scowl about her face but the thing that really stuck out to him was that she was… pretty. Not pretty in the way that many would notice but with a month or two of larded foods and sugared pastries, she’d be just as pretty as any of the girls in the ballroom. 

Even better, she was of peasant stock and the kingdom would lose their mind over such a pairing. It was perfect. He could simultaneously cause a stir among the lowly proletariats, the middle-class bourgeoisie, and the affluent magnates at the same time. No one would expect it. And no one could stop it.

Harry descended the stairs as everyone in the room had eyes on him. The King easily dodged anyone looking for attention or conversation and pushed through to the front as he exited the castle. His guards followed close behind with Fred, one of his men in waiting, scrambling to catch up with Harry’s long-legged strides. 

“King Styles! Where are you going?”

“Off to meet a young lady who sits opposite the wall. I think I’ve found my Queen.” 

The King’s approach felt like slow motion. Guards surrounded as he sauntered along the path toward the gates and Y/n couldn’t imagine why the King himself would be walking through them and not be driven in a carriage. Mud was kicked up on his fine dressings and shoes but he seemed unbothered by the mess.

“You.” He pointed, his finger (adorned with a heavy gold ring) appearing to be directed right at her. “What’s your name?”

Looking to her left and right she furrowed her brow as she looked back to the young king.

“Can you hear or not? You, the one with the fabric basket, what’s your name?”

Putting her hand over her chest she responded. “Me? Your Highness, forgive m–“

“Said– what’s your name, girl?” He spoke in a clipped, annoyed tone.

He stopped in front of her feet, standing tall over where she sat upon the dirt and brick. “My name is Y/n. Your majesty.” She bowed her head.

“None of that. Up. Stand up.”

She felt his hand groping underneath her armpit as she was pulled upward, clutching onto the empty basket.

"How old are you?"

Y/n looked behind herself toward Lane and then back at the king. "I'm 20, your majesty."

His odd inspection had her feeling a bit miffed. She would have told him to watch his hands and to be gentler but this was the king. She couldn’t have imagined what interest he had in her but when he turned her around and held her out in his arms to view her backside he spoke. “We can work with this. Bit skinny but soon enough she’ll be well fed.”

“Your Highness… sir, the young women in the ballroom are far more… Why you can’t possibly–“ his attendant spoke.

“I can do as I please and I say this is the one, Fred.” The King spoke before he twisted Y/n back around and examined her rag of a dress before speaking. “Bring the coach around. I need to have her come in quietly at the back where the servants enter and then brought up to the Rose Room forthwith. We’ll need a few ladies-in-waiting as well. Do that for me without running your mouth to anyone and I’ll give you the night off.”

She watched with wide eyes, confused as the man called Fred scurried off back to the castle and then turned to look up at the king. “Your Majesty, I don’t understand. What is your business with me? Have I done something wrong?”

“On the contrary. Your luck is about to change. With a little sprucing you’ll be quite darling I think. You’ll live with me in the castle henceforth.”

Her lips parted as she dropped her empty basket and looked down at Lane who was also in shock with his mouth agape at the whole encounter before looking back to the King. “I don’t understand. Why will I live with you? Am I being sequestered or summoned for a servant’s job?”

“Oh no. Nothing like that. In one month’s time you’ll be crowned Queen. You and I will produce an heir to the throne once our nuptials bind us for good. You’ll be given your own room with your own attendants and we’ll fatten you up in no time to prepare you for carrying my offspring.” 

She gasped and felt everything around her spin and spin and spin until all was dark and her mind stopped reaching for answers.

Harry caught her in his arms before she fell to the ground. He wasn’t surprised she fainted, given how malnourished she appeared. A guard and two of his aids helped bring her inside once the carriage arrived and up to the room that would be hers. A down mattress, silk and velvet bedsheets and blankets, a fireplace lit with a pot of warm water on the hearth, and a tray with a bounty of food were all waiting for her.

And if she was shocked by the King’s announcement about her being the Queen then waking up in such a lavish room that smelled of flowers and the smoke of a warm fireplace surely had her confused.

When she sat up, she felt the weight of a goose-down blanket draped over her body heavily. Blinking her eyes she saw a flickering fire and the ornate details of the room she was in.

“Madam…” A woman was suddenly stood at her side with a towel draped over her arm. “The King has requested that you bathe and eat before we bring you to him. Which would you like first?”

She shook her head, unsure of what was going on exactly. “I… is this for me?” She gestured toward the tray of food. Colorful fruits and a loaf of hearty bread caught her eye. She could go for a meal.

“It is. Would you like anything more?”

She quickly slid her legs from under the blanket and stepped toward the tray. The bright red apple beckoned her so she picked it up and took a large bite of the skin and flesh before tearing off some of the bread and stuffing that in her mouth as well.

There were blackberries, pears, bilberries, plums, a bowl of boiled potatoes, and cream. A pitcher of red wine beckoned with a pretty crystal goblet to drink out of. There was a whole smoked and salted fish, a gob of butter, and her favorite, a plum tart.

She’d nearly eaten the whole tray when she realized the woman had filled a tub with warm water and perfumed oil. She sat down the emptied glass feeling buzzed from the wine and stuffed so full that her ribs ached.

The room she was in was easily twice the size of the slum housing her family was given. The room was opulent and lit with fuel sconces and lanterns. A fireplace kept the space warm and the furnishings were a feast for the eyes. She imagined that the porcelain bowl near the tub would pay for a month of food for her family.

"Your bath is ready, madam. If you'd like I can leave you alone while you bathe or I can assist."

Y/n stepped in closer to the bathtub. It was one of those built-in tubs that you stepped down into, not the metal ones you had to climb up in. Her family didn't even have their own tub. It was shared with the men from the workhouse across the way and set at the back of the buildings outside.

But here, the tub was inside in a warm room and there was even a ledge to sit. Privacy. She'd love a little privacy.

"I'll be fine on my own. Thank you."

The woman nodded and left the room after folding a cloth and placing it near the tub. Y/n began to take her clothes off, the dirty rags left in a stinky pile on the wool rug before she dipped a toe into the bath. The water was hot. She could see the steam rising from it as she slowly slunk down inside and settled her bottom into the seat ledge. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the water surround her body and soak away the dirt and grime between all her bits and crevices.

And the scent wafting from the water was glorious. Like a flower with honey and tea caressing her skin. She used the small cloth to wipe herself down and then dunked her head to clean her face. The last time she had a proper bath was over a month prior. Her usual cleanup method consisted of a wetted rag wiped over her privy area and underarms.

But to have a hot bath scented with herbs and flowers by a warm fire in a room decorated with the finest fittings was a dream. A real-life fantasy come true. She couldn't wait to tell Lane about the whole thing. It almost all had her so distracted she'd forgotten the reason why she was there in the first place.

She let her limbs float outward as she closed her eyes and basked in the delicious silence. Everything in her life was chaos and noise and panic. But in that moment, none of that existed. Not until the door of her room was being opened and the young woman who'd filled the tub had returned with heavy material and silky fabrics draped over her arms.

She laid the clothes out on the bed in a row as Y/n watched from her spot in the tub.

"I've an outfit here the King has selected for you. I'll help you put it on once you're ready."

Y/n stretched her neck and peered toward the bed. "The King. Will I be seeing him once I'm dressed?"

"Yes, madam. He would like to see you when you're ready."

The reality of it all was heavy when she was helped from the tub and felt the prick of chills run over her skin. As warm as the fireplace made the room, it was still winter outside and she shivered as she dried her skin.

The young woman helped dress her. Y/n'd never worn such frocks before. It was a complicated task, getting dressed in fine clothing. She lost track of all the layers as she was fitted and the material tied around her and her body tossled. But even she could admit, once all the fabric was put into place and the woman began to fuss with her hair she looked quite captivating.

For a beggar.

She was led through a carpeted hall that seemed to stretch the length of the whole of Thornekeep until they were stopped at a wide doorway that opened up to a pair of mammoth wooden double doors. The young woman glanced back at Y/n before she rapped her knuckles over the heavy door firmly.

The door didn't open right away. Moments went by as Y/n shifted on her feet and the young woman nervously smiled at Y/n.

"I'm Phoebe. Think I forgot to introduce myself," she spoke quietly as she trailed her sight over Y/n's dress. "Hopefully the King is kind to you. He's been… difficult—"

The door was pushed open and a beautiful woman with olive skin stepped past them. "He's all yours," she spoke in a sultry voice that Y/n could only hope to one day mimic.

Phoebe gestured for Y/n to pass through and Y/n stepped into the King's chambers. If she thought her room was spectacular, his was a sickening show of lush wealth and haughty, needless adornments.

She was startled when the king spoke from his lounge. "Come. Sit."

Y/n and Phoebe walked deeper into his room and stepped down into a sunken seating area. Harry sat up straight and motioned toward Phoebe. "Not you. Leave us."

When it was just Y/n and Harry and she'd delicately sat her bottom at the furthest spot from the king she could find, Harry got up and placed himself next to her. "Are you scared of me?" He asked with a bright tone, as if it amused him.

"Your majesty, I don't know how to act. I've never seen such indulgent things in all my life as today."

He nodded and looked her over. "What are you wearing?" He lifted at her skirt and she batted his hand away on instinct.

"Phoebe said you picked it for me."

"Who is Phoebe?"

Y/n blinked and looked toward his chamber doors and back at the king in confusion. "The lady who helped dress me and… She was just here with me. The one you sent away."

"How sweet that you learned her name already. And I didn't pick this for you." He plucked at the fabric. "I asked that you come here in nothing but a robe so I could inspect you."

She scooted away from him, her heart racing at the idea of showing herself to him without clothes. Harry laughed and leaned himself back into the large cushioned seat and draped a leg over his knee as he watched her curiously. "You are scared. Good. You should be. Take off your clothes."

Shaking her head she squished herself as far from him as she could but he simply reached his leg out and hooked his foot under her ankle to pull at her. "Don't do that. Said remove your clothes, girl."

"Yo– your majesty… I don't even know how these were put on. I don't know how. I… I've never…" Her heart was racing and she felt her fingers tremble as he sat and grinned at her like this was a game to him.

"What? You can't remove your coverings because you don't know how? I can deal with a timid vazey, but not a liar. Off with your things."

"No! You're rude! I will not!"

The king scoffed, surprised at her disrespect, as he pushed himself up to stand and stood over his bride-to-be. "I am rude, you'll learn well. But I have needs and you're here to keep them. Look at me when I speak to you."

Hesitantly, Y/n lifted her face upward to look into the eyes of the man who she could hardly believe would be her husband. That part—that didn't feel real. Not at all. It couldn't be.

"Have you ever been touched by a man before?"

She thought she might pass out as her skin heated under the scrutiny of his gaze. "No. Of course, not. I'm unwed."

He laughed. "Plenty of unwed ladies get their fannies fucked and fingered, my poor feather-brained girl. You're a virgin?"

She nodded, keeping silent, though not happy about the insult to her intelligence. Perhaps she wasn't as smart as someone with a royal education but she knew how to read and could do basic math, which was more than almost everyone in her social stratus.

"I see." Harry sighed and reached down to grip her jaw and look her over like she was an animal. "Surprised no one has warmed their member with your quim yet. Rather sickly but you are pretty. Have you ever seen one?"

She gulped loudly. "Seen… seen one? What?"

He clicked his tongue and smirked. "A cock, my dear. Have you seen a cock?"

Y/n, though a virgin, wouldn't call herself a prude. She was used to crash speak and rude men but the king was a shock to her. She never imagined someone with his pedigree could be so filthy. "Yes."

He let go of her jaw, keeping his eyes set on hers as he lifted his brows. "Oh, you have. And did you play with it?"

"No!" Y/n looked down at her lap and inhaled a breath. She couldn't believe the conversation she was having with the king.

She felt his long fingers at her jaw again, forcing her to lift her gaze back up at him. "Don't look away from me when we're talking."

She knocked her head up and down and he dropped his hand away from her.

"Would you like to see mine?"

Her eyes widened and she shot her gaze down toward his crotch and then back up to his face. "No."

He smiled and let out a hearty laugh as he began to unbutton his forest green silk tricot coat. He eyed her, waiting to hear her protest again but when she simply watched him he continued to undo his outer layers until he had access to his breeches and tucked his fingers into the buttons at his front flap. Raising a brow he paused to give her a chance to tell him to stop.

But she only watched, flicking her gaze from his hands up to his face. She wouldn't admit it but she was curious. Scared a little of his demeanor and that he was the sovereign and could do as he pleased with her if he wanted, she still wondered what it might look like.

His pink lips curved upward slowly as he unhooked one button and let the fabric drape dangerously low. "I'm not going to make you suck it or anything. But if you want, I won't deny you your pleasure."

Y/n bristled and blinked her eyes away from him to the edge of the room before looking back up at him. "You're rude."

He smiled sweetly, a handsome dimple dipping into his cheek like he wasn't just about to whip out his big fiddle and show her. "You said that, yes… Keep going? Or stop? Up to you. I've got plenty of others I can show it to. They're all waiting, just hoping you disappoint me. They'd love to be in your shoes right now. Vying to be the next Queen of Thornekeep. If you don't want to be here you may leave and go back to the street. What will it be?"

She inhaled slowly and fought the stinging embarrassment that needled at her insides. She wasn't keen on seeing the king's privy member but his handsome face was alluring and if she said no, would she not be kept as Queen? Did she even want to be Queen of Thornekeep? She could say no and he'd send her back out into the cold with her old brown rags and her fabric begging basket. She'd have quite the tale to tell but that would be it. Everything would go back to how it always was. She'd continue sitting in the street and asking for kindness from strangers who wouldn't even offer her a glance, as the excruciating pain of hunger slowly ate her alive.

"Continue," Y/n spoke as confidently as she was able to. She didn't want that life anymore. Though she had no idea what she was getting herself into with the king, she figured it was better than life as a beggar. Cold, dirty, starved, angry, riddled with pain in her bones like she was an elderly woman… Being fed, bathed in perfumed oils, and dressed in fine silk and wool skirts, inside a warm castle, with a bedroom all her own wasn't just tempting, she wanted it. Even her bed and its heavy down blanket were to die for. Worth the humiliation.

Plus, if she told herself the biggest truth of it all, he was dashing. More than just dashing. He was the most fine-looking man she might have ever laid eyes upon. But she wasn't ready to admit the way his green eyes had her pulse fluttering like a small bird.

Harry reached down to run a finger over her jaw gently while he unplucked the second button from the front flap. "Keep your eyes on mine for a moment."

She tried to wet the dry desert of her throat as she steadied her eyes on him, which turned out to be quite the task when she could see at the limn of her vision his hand working something fleshy just in front of her. His cock was out, she knew that much, but she wanted so badly to take a quick glimpse.

"Mmm… Your eyes are pretty," he spoke, still moving his hand about. "How many cocks have you seen?"

Blinking her eyes softly she puffed out a shaky lungful of air. "I don't know. The men at the workhouse who use our tub just walk around nude."

"And they never touched you?" His finger felt sweet on her face and for a moment she thought he was a man she could find herself trusting, loving even. Perhaps she was too naive.

She shook her head. "I wouldn't let them."

"They tried?"

"A few."

He clenched his jaw and stretched his neck as he lifted his sight away from hers. She resisted the urge to peek at his crotch even though she could have gotten away with it right then as he wasn't looking at her.

When he returned his gaze down at her he stepped in closer, pushing her legs apart to stand between her feet. He glanced down at himself and moved his hand from her jaw. "Look at your king's cock."

Y/n swallowed hard and blinked as she shifted her stare downward until she saw the big thing in her face, swollen and thick. And long. His big palm was wrapped around the space of him that grew out from a thatch of dark hair.

Now, she'd seen cocks before. Soft ones, hard ones, weird and infected ones… The workmen didn't care who saw when it came to bathtime and some of them even tried to get her to participate if she were anywhere near them. But Harry's was… well, it looked fit for a king she supposed. Maybe all royals had clean, pretty pricks.

"Touch it."

She glanced up at him, struggling to even breathe. Not only was the corset pulled too tight around her ribs, but the king's vulgar words and his cock in her face were making her feel quite fettered and discombobulated. Her chest heaved so hard she was worried she was about to burst the stay lace that held the corset together.

She reached her fingers upward and focused on the very tip of him where there was a small slit that carved outward like it was draped in a blanket made of smooth flesh. The rest of him was a little more crude with veins that ran along the rigid flesh. When she touched the top of it with her fingertip she gasped and pulled her hand away. It was like a warm small naked creature that'd been warmed by the fire for a bit too long.

"He's not going to bite. He might spit at you, though." He laughed. "Touch it. No need to be virtuous with me. You'll have to get used to handling it anyway."

"It's the first I've touched. I… Where should I place my hand?" She was genuinely worried she'd do it wrong, and he was the king so she was cautious.

King Styles reached down to grab at her hand and he spat a big glob of slick from his mouth that pooled into her palm. She winced as he placed her hand on the long shaft of himself, pressing her fingers around his girth and guiding her upward to his smooth tip.

"What do you think? Not bad, right?"

When he let go of her hand she slowly continued smoothing his spit over his flesh and peered closely at the organ. It was a curious thing to touch a penis. She was surprised by how warm it was and the mechanics of how all that worked were still somewhat of a mystery to her. She understood that men used their pricks to stick babies into women and that it hurt and it was disgusting.

"It feels funny. S'really warm."

"Is it?" He smirked down at her as she examined him, her hand still sliding in very stunted strokes up and down. He quite enjoyed the way she looked at it in awe. Of course, the way she was handling him did him no good. That wasn't going to do anything for him but she'd learn soon enough what he liked. Whether she liked it or not.

"How does it feel for you?" Y/n knew enough to know that for men, it felt good and that while what she was doing wasn't sex, it should be favorable for him.

"You'll need teaching but your little hand will never feel quite as nice as your mouth or the warm treasure you're hiding between your legs."

She stopped and frowned at him. "I haven't ever—"

"Yes, we know. You haven't touched a man before. But we'll change all of that, won't we? Keep going with your hand and spit on it."

Sliding her palm over his tacky skin she spat over the spot just above her fist and smeared her saliva upward. "What will I tell my mum and dad? I should tell them where I am and—"

"Oh, girl." He patted her cheek condescendingly. "Let's not talk about mum and dad while you're working my knob. Tomorrow we'll fetch them."

She swallowed and tried to focus but everything was so overwhelming.

"Are we going to have intercourse?" She looked up at him with big pretty eyes.

"Of course we are. How else do you expect to find yourself with child?"

"I don't know… I'm scared to do it. I don't like the idea of it."

Harry pushed her hand away and tucked himself back into his front flap as he sighed. "You're no good at this. And if you don't want to learn how to be good for me then there's no need for you."

He turned to walk away, leaving Y/n sitting on his plush sofa she sat up straight, confused. "Should I… What shall I do?"

Harry pulled his jacket into place and rebuttoned it as he looked at her with an indifferent expression. "Go to your room or stay here. I don't care particularly either way. I was disappointed by you so I'm going to have to call in someone who can please me properly. Someone who can do the things you can't. If you want to stay and watch and learn then so be it."

Y/n stood up quickly and clasped her hands together in front of her hips. "Your majesty, please—"

"My King. You'll address me either as My King or My Lord. Yes?"

She nodded quickly, stepping closer to him. "Yes, my King. I only need a little more time to learn. I promise tomorrow I'll be better for you. I'll do whatever you need. Please don't replace me."

Harry lifted a brow, his still unreadable expression was worrying to Y/n but the way he scraped his eyes down her frame made every inch of her body burn. He wouldn't tell her but he was pleased with her already despite what he'd told her. She was desperate and quite pretty and that was all he required. She played into his rude affront exactly as he hoped and it had her worried he wasn't going to keep her. He had no plans to touch anyone else now that he had his mind made up. She'd do just fine once she learned to be more obedient and malleable.

"We shall see." He flicked a hand in the air and then gestured toward his door. "Off you go. You'll try again to be better tomorrow. You'll have one more chance to prove yourself to me."

She felt defeated. Walking slowly past him she turned to look back once more and watched him step out onto his balcony, the lace curtains blowing in the wind as he moved out of view. Pushing at the heavy wooden door she bit down on her lip to keep herself from crying. She didn't know if she was more upset with herself for not being bolder, or if she was angry at how the king had just treated her so poorly and insulted her. The situation was discouraging but she was determined. She'd dealt with worse, hadn't she?

Phoebe met her outside the doors and walked her back toward her room. Y/n wasn't sure how she was going to work up the courage to be enough for the king. She didn't want him to find another to take her place so she needed to do something. But what?

"Would you like anything, madam?" Phoebe asked.

"Are there books here in the castle? A library?" Perhaps she could read about pleasing a man if such a thing existed.

"Yes. A grand library. I can't read myself. Are you able to?"

Y/n nodded. "I can read, yes. I'd like to see it. Would you show me there?"

. .

next part >>

. .

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[blueflipflops]

'Holy shit.'

Danny gaped at the billionaire, jaw dropped at the floor, smoke still in coming out of the weapon in his hands. The weapon that killed Pariah and therefore—

And therefore making him the new king by conquest.

Danny reviewed the whole thing in his head just to make sure he's not getting this wrong. Pariah and him fought. Crashed a rich guy's party. Said rich guy told Pariah off for trying to hurt his kid. Pariah taunted him. Dude challenged him not to hurt his guests (including Danny). It doesnt have to be worded like that but the intent is al the same there. He challenged Pariah and Pariah retaliating with a taunt could count as accepting it.

So going back,

"Holy shit."

Danny says it out loud this time, making the rich dude's kids' attention snap to him but he can't help it. Feeling a weird change in the air and within him (as a witness), he cant he blamed to the near delirious laugh that escaped his lips. The rich guy new king and his kids tensed up as he floated towards them, guided by a weird instinct to bow before the guy with a broad smile across his lips as he imagines the chaos this would bring.

"All hail the new king of the Infinite Realms! I, Phantom, has bore witness to the duel for the succession rights for the crown and therefore legitimizes your claim for the position. All hail!"

Halloween prompts year 2 day 18

Danny raced through the ghost zone in a panic, how had he missed this? Appearently vlad had released Pariah Dark from his coffin again and got smeared into a paste. The mad king had then went into another dimension, hoping to conquer it and gain more power and skeleton soldiers only to be met in battle by a group of powerful warriors calling themselves the Justice League. Vlad had somehow survived the initial butt kicking and tried to use ghost tech to finally take the king down.

Unfortunately for him, pariah saw him coming in the reflection of a lady warriors blade and killed him.

Somehow the fight dragged on halfway across the US until they got to New Jersey where some billionaire guy was hosting one of his kids 18th birthday bash at his mansion. Pariah appearently crashed threw the roof, a hero dropped the weapon they had taken from Vlad and, in an effort to save his family, Brucie Wayne took the weapon and warned Pariah not to come any closer to his kids.

Pariah mocked him and raised his weapon to a young man with a white streak in his hair they was spayed across the floor in a daze.

Next thing anyone knew the King was dead.

Bruce Wayne had killed the previous king in single combat.

Bruce Wayne was the new Ghost King

Bruce Wayne was sitting on the throne in Pariahs keep looking very unsettled.

Crud. Danny needs to keep this guy and his kids safe doesn't he?

[justana0kguy]

2023 JULY 12 Wednesday

"Go rather to the lost sheep [...] and as you go, make this proclamation: 'The kingdom of heaven is at hand.'"

~ Matthew 10:6-7

[azsazz]

Shining Amor (Prologue)

Knight!Azriel x Princess!Reader (Rhysand's Sister)

Summary: Prequel to Part 1 of Shining Armor

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2568

_________________________________________

“I’d rather cut my heart out of my chest than tolerate this.” Your words are brutal, but true. Despite the venom that seeps into your tone, your proclamation doesn’t penetrate the thick skin of your father, who looms above you on his dais.

He looks as powerful as he is. His robes draped long and dark across his back, pooling over one side of his onyx-plated throne. The gold that sits atop his head and splays across his knuckles is shined to perfection. You could see your reflection in the metal, if you were close enough. He wears the same stare that have brought powerful males to their knees. You do not falter beneath those sharp, violet eyes that are normally soft with affection when he looks at you. You do not wither under his stony expression today. You do not crumble at the feeling of your lover’s tense presence at your side.

Eris’ demeanor is cold and silent, as all good knights are, but there’s a rigidity in which he stands that tells you everything you need to know about his stance on the new decree.

He is no fonder of this change than you are, but he can’t speak against his king, won’t speak against his king.

You, however, are King Dornan’s daughter, so you are free to protest this inane order.

The king raises his brow in challenge. He’s mastered the air of stoicism, something you clearly have yet to learn. The king is not moved by much, but the sight of his daughter so vehemently fighting his word has his eyes swimming with amusement and curiosity. He’s never been so close to smiling down at you. If this were a private matter, he would, but you’re in the presence of his guard and yours.  

As if he knows it will infuriate you more, he keeps the smirk tucked to himself. You are as stubborn as your mother, and you will argue his demands until your last breath, as you’ve threatened before.

You could cross your arms over your chest, stomp your foot on the ground, tear Eris’ sword from the sheath at his hip and take it to the long, purple curtains that drape the corners of the room. A tantrum fit for a kingdom. But you won’t, refuse to act out, for it won’t change a thing. Your father is a man of words, debate, and if you want something, he is more than willing to play a verbal game of chess with you.

It doesn’t mean he’ll allow you to win.

“And why is that, my darling daughter?” He asks, and your limbs lock. Beside you, Eris’ chest stills beneath his breastplate.

Your throat tightens with emotion. Stalking into your father’s throne room after hearing word of the change fuming was never the answer. Nothing is. Because your father doesn’t know of the relations you and the leader of your personal guard share. How you’ve fallen so deeply in love with the auburn-haired soldier at your side.

How could you not? He’s utterly handsome, having grown into his sharp features with age. You remember watching him when he was young, amber eyes wide as he watched senior leader’s spar. You weren’t allowed into the courtyard to watch, but you found the perfect spot to spy, and Eris’ presence drew you in immediately.

The memory of that morning arises, flickering through your mind as clear as day. The very first time he was shoved into training circle, his sword so large he could barely lift it over his shoulder. You didn’t know why they started out with real weapons instead of wooden ones, and when you asked your personal guard at the time, Keir, he explained that the males in the King’s army began their training like that, but to be in the King’s retinue was to weed out those unworthy of the position as quickly as possible. Fight to survive or succumb to cowardice.

You pondered as you watched Eris struggle. When he finally managed to lift the weapon over his shoulder on the second try, his sharp jaw was set. There was a determination in his eyes that made you swoon a little. It wouldn’t take long for him to tone those muscles, to pack on the strength to wield the sword so smoothly, like the weapon was an extension of his body.

But that day, he was nothing more than a fawn taking his first steps, trying to keep his feet beneath him.

He’d been knocked on his ass so many times, but he never complained. He only set his jaw and climbed back to his feet, again and again and again. Only once did he pause as he lied on the ground, breath cut clean from his lungs from a hilt to his side. He looked like he was contemplating what he was doing at the castle at all, eyes searching the sky for something, and as if by some innate magnetism, he found your curious gaze. And you were a goner.

It slams through the storm raging in your blood. You can’t explain yourself, can’t admit you’re in love with Eris Vanserra. Your father will take him away from you no matter what.

This is your new reality.

“I’m used to having Sir Eris by my side,” you grasp for something, anything to try and sway the king, but come up empty. “You would rather I trust a stranger?”

It’s a valiant effort, though futile.

“My beloved,” your father all but hums. Your irritation rises. He’s teasing you. Testing you. Your fingers twitch, aching to curl into fists, but you know better than that. “You haven’t even met him, yet.”

You don’t need to meet him; you want to spit. The male you want by your side is already there.

This impromptu switch continues without your permission. The light pouring through the stained-glass windows seems to waver when the door to the throne room opens. You set your jaw, refusing to face the new presence. You lift your chin and hold your father’s gaze.

Eris turns on instinct, to analyze the threat, to make sure that you’re okay.

You’re far from it.

You have no idea where this new knight is. His footsteps are nearly silent as he strides closer, but you feel him all the same. The hair at the nape of your neck rises and goosebumps prickle your skin. The skirts of your dress swish slightly when he halts on your other side.

From what you can tell, he’s tall. Taller than Eris, almost as tall as Cassian, your brothers personal guard. His presence is dark, as dark as the hair atop his head. His armor isn’t slate gray like Eris’ and the rest of the royal guard. Instead, his is onyx, as black as midnight, something that instantly makes you wonder.

You refuse to look despite your curiosity.

The knight lowers to his knee and bows his head to your father.

“Rise,” your father commands, accepting his submission.

The knight stands, swiftly and quietly. The sword at his hip doesn’t clang against cuisse like it normally would. Maybe, this is a new uniform your father’s blacksmith is testing. He tends to do that sometimes, with the king’s permission, of course.

And lucky for you, you get to be the guinea pig.

“This is Azriel.” Spiders crawl up your spine as your father motions to the male at your side. He doesn’t stand from his expensive throne; he doesn’t need to. “Your new personal guard.”

Azriel.

You don’t recognize the name, haven’t heard the handmaidens so much as whisper about him like they gossip about the other guards. He could have been in training all this time, but you stopped watching long ago. You wonder where your father has been hiding him.

You grit your teeth.

Your father called you in here to assign you a new personal guard, without explanation.

He doesn’t need to in his position of power, and that’s what bothers you the most.

No. What bothers you the most is that he’s removing Eris from your register of guards.

You don’t respond, as silent as the knights that flank your sides, so your father turns his attention to the male you’ve had secret relations with for the past year.

Eris has been assigned as the head of your personal guards for nearly three years now. He didn’t know you at all, didn’t know you’d watched him train almost every day since your gazes clashed from your spying in the window. He was focused entirely on his training, and you like to think that he didn’t look back up to your hiding spot in fear he’d be caught and relieved of his duties before he could even begin.

You never crossed paths at parties in the castle like you always hoped you would, never saw him around your brother or father or mother. You know he trained hard, that it paid off well, even got him a spot in the royal guard, and when he was first assigned to your retinue, as he took his rightful place by your side, your breath escaped you.

It had taken a long time to get him to crack. To get him to open up. At first, Eris was on the night shift. You didn’t see him before you went to sleep, and he was gone before you were bathed and pampered enough to leave your rooms. You’d lie awake at night, wondering what he was doing out there, what he was thinking about, if you plagued his mind like he did yours.

You began to make excuses, just to see him. Like you couldn’t sleep and wanted to watch the moon or snag something from the kitchens or forgot your book in the library. He’d amuse your midnight whims, and somewhere along the way, he even began to answer the questions you’d pester him with.

And your relationship blossomed into something beautiful and breathtaking.

Eventually, Eris was promoted to daytime guard, and then head personal guard, where he rightfully belongs.

And now you don’t know what’s going to happen to him.

Your heart pounds painfully, knocking into your ribs. Words aren’t forming, congealing into a ball of emotion that lodges in your throat. Your nose stings, but you refuse to reveal how upset you are by this.

Reveal more of how upset you are, you mean.

The king nods once, a sharp jerk of his chin, like he’s satisfied with the way you look beside your new personal guard. Like he’s made the best decision for you.

“Sir Eris,” your father addresses. Your lover is already standing at attention, but as his name rolls off the king’s tongue, he somehow straightens further, tilts his chin back just slightly, like he’s offering his throat to be slit at any moment.

“Your Majesty,” Eris responds cordially. You know he can’t let his feelings show, but his façade makes you bristle, nonetheless.

“You will be in Prince Rhysand’s guard. Second in line,” your father says. Eris bows in acceptance, but your heart falls to your feet.

Second in line? Eris has proved himself to be a lead guard, not second in line.

Your mind swims with confusion, heart thudding painfully in your chest.

You wish, above all, that your mother was here. She is the only one who can make your father see reason. But she is well on her way to the next village over, insistent that she shop the market for the best handmade decorations for the upcoming Starfall celebration.

A part of you is relieved with this declaration, though. He’s being moved to your brother’s guard, which means he’ll still be around the castle. You’ll even see him around, and maybe, just maybe, you can sneak a moment or two with him…if you confess your secret relationship to Rhysand.

You don’t hide your cringe well.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You are relieved. Report to Cassian immediately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” is all Eris can say. He kneels.

It’s difficult not to let your emotion slip through the fissures in your face when Eris spins on his heel and departs from you. Each step further pries the crack in your heart more and more. You allow your lip to tremble minutely, your father’s gaze appraising the knight on your other side. The one that has been so silent and unmoving, you nearly forgot he was there at all.

The king’s violet eyes gleam, like this decision is the best he’s made in all his time spent ruling this kingdom. The look makes your stomach roil. You want desperately to run after Eris, throw yourself into the comfort of his arms and never let him go.

You feel empty when the thick, heavy door slams shut behind him.

It feels final. It feels real.

You swallow harshly, frozen to the spot. At the very least, you’d like to retreat to your bed chambers to rot in your loss alone, but you have yet to be dismissed.

Something flickers through your father’s gaze as he stares at the new head of your personal guard, but it’s gone too quickly for you to make out.

You chance a peek at the knight. If everyone in the room is going to stare, including your father’s four guards, you may as well look too. Azriel, your mind reminds you.

Your ribs constrict, trapping the air in your lungs. He towers over you, spine straight, broad shoulders level with confidence. His jaw is as cutting as the blade sheathed at his hip. The tan skin of his face is smooth, as if not once has the tip of a sword nicked his skin.

Thick, dark lashes curl away from striking hazel eyes. He isn’t even looking at you, and just from the side of his face, you can tell he’s devastatingly handsome. A sharp, straight nose leads down to perfectly shaped, perfectly pink lips.

You catch your gaze lingering for a microsecond too long and you rip your eyes away.

Your father stares at you knowingly, and your temper is about to boil over.

“Anything else, Your Majesty?” You grit. Normally, you’d wait until your father spoke first, but you’ll take the punishment of speaking out of turn instead of submitting to his dancing eyes and amused demeanor.

“Yes,” he says. “I was going to wait for your mother to return before mentioning anything, but she is incredibly busy with the preparations for Starfall.” He says it like he’d rather always have her by his side instead of prancing around nearby villages. But that’s the kind of female she’s always been, connected to her people. You’d be right there with her, if not for finishing up your studies…and this.

Spit it out, you want to yell. You’re suddenly exhausted from all of this, and you don’t know when you’ll be able to see Eris again.

“At the ball, there will be suitors for you,” he says, and your vision narrows to pinpoints. Your heart quickens its pace, and the urge to flee grows exponentially. You don’t want to hear this, you’ve been broken enough for the night.

Still, your father continues. “You will converse with them, learn about them, dance with them, and by the end of the night, you will choose one to become your husband.”

The throne room falls from beneath your feet.

_________________________________________

Shining Armor Taglist: @sapphirelunawolfie @fuckingsimp4azriel

[baelarys]

Thérèse

Aemond targaryen x Reader Niece velaryon

word count : 1180

Warning : angust, Insest , Suicide, death of a minor,Mention of blood and cheese ,Delicate and explicit topics

Author's note : I born to be the mother of a girl.

Thérèse pt2

She was your everything, the reason for your joy, your greatest treasure. When Alysa was born, the happiness you felt was indescribable. She looked so much like you: her brown hair and dark eyes were a reflection of yours, and it filled you with an even deeper love.

Every day since her birth, you felt blessed. You watched each of her small gestures, her smile that lit up the room, and each babbling that made you laugh. Alysa had not only inherited your physical traits, but also your spirit, your energy, and your joy for life.

“Can you say mom?” you asked softly to the baby you held in your arms. “Mom,” you repeated in a warm, encouraging voice as you rocked Alysa back and forth.

Her big dark eyes looked at you curiously, her small mouth forming a soft smile. Each attempt of her to imitate you was another step in her development, and it filled you with indescribable pride.

“Come on, little girl, you can do it,” you whispered, bringing her face closer to yours so he could see you better. Alysa babbled something unintelligible, but to you, it was like music.

“Mommy,” you repeated once again, continuing to rock her. Alysa looked at you with those curious eyes, and even though she couldn't form the word yet, you knew she would soon.

The doors to your room suddenly opened, interrupting the moment of peace. You turned to see who it was, and found Aemond standing in the doorway. He looked visibly upset.

“My mother invited you to have lunch with her,” he said, approaching you with a firm step. "You did not go."

“I was taking care of Alysa,” you replied, without much interest, as you continued rocking the baby.

Aemond frowned, his gaze stern. “You know how important your presence at these events is to her. You can’t just ignore their invitations.”

“I'm not ignoring her,” you replied, staying calm. “My priority is Alysa. She needed my attention.”

Aemond took a deep breath, trying to control his frustration. He approached you and looked at the little girl in your arms. His expression softened as he saw his daughter, his eyes filling with tenderness.

Without saying a word, he stretched out his arms to support Alysa. Carefully, you moved her from your arms to him. Aemond cradled her gently, his fingers gently stroking her brown hair. Alysa looked at him curiously, her small fingers trying to grab a strand of her father's hair.

“Look who's here, Alysa,” Aemond said in a warm voice he rarely used, reserved only for his daughter. "Is Dad."

The little girl giggled, her little face lighting up with joy. Aemond smiled, his eyes softening further as he looked at his daughter. It was a side of him that very few saw, a vulnerability that only Alysa could bring out.

––––––––

The last few days had been crazy. Aegon's proclamation as king had shaken the foundations of the Seven Kingdoms. The news of Lucerys' death and the looming possibility of war kept everyone in a constant state of anxiety.

In the midst of the political storm, you tried to remain calm, taking refuge in the tranquility and peace that Alysa provided you.

Every morning when you woke up, you heard the whispers of the servants and the worried murmurs that spread through the hallways. The atmosphere in the Red Keep was tense, with furtive glances and hushed conversations dominating the day. Aemond, for his part, found himself increasingly involved in court intrigues, forced to take an active role in his brother's new administration.

Despite everything, your priority was still Alysa. In their small world, politics and wars had no place. Her days were filled with laughter, games and discoveries, and you tried hard to keep that oasis of happiness intact.

You spent hours with her, reading old stories, singing lullabies, and observing each of her small accomplishments with wonder and pride.

One afternoon, while Aemond was away at a council meeting, you took Alysa to the castle gardens. The sun was shining brightly, and the air was filled with the scent of summer flowers. Sitting on the grass, you allowed Alysa to crawl around as she pleased, her giggles filling the space around you.

“You're growing up so fast, my princess,” you whispered to her, watching her reach for a butterfly flying nearby. “I wish I could keep you this happy forever, away from all the chaos that surrounds us.”

Just then, you felt a presence behind you. You turned and saw Aemond approaching, his expression a mix of tiredness and concern. Seeing you and Alysa, his face softened a little. He joined you on the grass, setting aside the concerns of the kingdom for a moment.

“I needed this,” Aemond said, taking Alysa into his arms and laughing softly when she tugged at his hair. “A moment of peace in the midst of so much disorder.”

“I know,” you nodded, touching his arm affectionately. “Here, in the gardens, everything seems so distant. We can forget for a moment what is happening out there.”

Aemond nodded, looking at his daughter lovingly. “I would like to be able to offer you a better future, one without wars and conflicts. But these are difficult times.”

“We will,” you said. “We will find a way to protect her and give her a happy life.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden, enjoying the sun and the warm breeze. The garden became their refuge, a place where they could escape the worries of the outside world and simply be a family. Alysa laughed with every movement, her happiness was contagious and filled the air with pure and simple joy.

When night fell, you found yourself in Alysa's room, filled with toys scattered on the floor. The soft light of a couple of candles was the only thing that illuminated the gloom, creating dancing shadows on the walls. You watched Alysa sleep peacefully in her crib while you carefully folded some of her little dresses.

The silence was comforting, a pause in the tumult of the day. The candles flickered softly, casting a warm, welcoming light that made the room even more intimate. Alysa's every calm breath was a melody to your ears.

You hadn't sensed the presence of the two men who had entered the room until one of them collided with the small tower of blocks near the door. The sudden noise made you turn around quickly. At first, you thought it might be one of the wet nurses, but when you looked, you saw the faces of two men you didn't recognize.

"Who are you?" you asked, instinctively placing yourself in front of Alysa's crib. You tried to sound strong and authoritative, but your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

The men exchanged a quick look. One of them, a tall man with a scar on his cheek. “Who is she?” He asked his companion.

“The one-eyed prince's wife,” one of the men murmured with a sneer on his face. You clung tighter to the crib behind you, feeling the urge to protect Alysa. Both men looked dirty, like rat catchers, but you knew they hadn't come just to catch rats.

“You can go,” you said firmly, noticing how the men approached you, murmuring something about Aemond under their breath. Fear hit you, but you forced yourself to maintain your composure. You decided to turn to take Alysa in your arms and escape, but at that same moment, you felt one of the men grab you by the hair, pulling you back, while a small cold knife was placed on your throat.

Terror washed over you, but you tried to stay calm. Alysa continued sleeping, oblivious to the danger. “Let me go,” you whispered, your voice shaking, your eyes locked with your captor's.

"Give us the child and we will not harm you," said the tallest, most robust man.

"No...no" you responded, trying to get away from the smaller man who was still holding you tightly.

You saw the robust man approach Alysa's crib and you felt as if your heart was going to explode "wait... I have jewelry, gold, I will give you anything, even double what they gave you for coming here" tears fell down your face. cheeks as he removed some gold rings from your fingers and extended them towards the men.

The tall man removed the thin veil that covered Alysa's crib, you suppressed a scream. Trying not to wake the baby who was still sleeping.

“guards…” you tried to scream but the man pressed the knife harder on your throat, you cried, you didn't know what else to do, you started to panic.

The tears began to fall faster when you saw how the man took your little Alysa by her arms and reached for her, causing small moans of pain from the baby.

"No!" You tried to get out of the man's grip on you but you couldn't, you felt the smaller man hit your head with the butt of the knife and threw you towards the wall which caused you to hit your head with it.

You heard Alysa crying, the sound of flesh being pierced accompanied by the sound of blood running on the floor, your stomach turned, you felt like everything was happening in slow motion, Alysa's crying stopped followed by the rough sound of a small body falling against the floor.

The man took the baby's head to put it in a small sack to leave the room followed by the smaller man.

You looked at the scene without knowing what to do until you saw the headless body of your daughter and a large pool of blood accompanying it, you crawled towards her.

“no…no…no” you repeated desperately, your throat hurt, your heart hurt and the tears came out without stopping, clouding your vision, you took the small body in your arms, bathing your fine dress in blood.

A heartbreaking scream came from your throat, your Alysa, your little and dear daughter, has been taken from you in such a cruel and inhuman way

The sound of the footsteps of some guards entering the room didn't even make you look away from the puddle that your baby's body was releasing.

“Y/N” Aemond called but you didn't turn around, you drowned in your own tears, wishing for nothing more than your own death you couldn't protect her, you were a shame. A small scream came from your throat, clinging more and more to the body you held in your arms.

–––––––––––

The night cold insinuated itself through the cracks of the window, cooling the already gloomy atmosphere of the room. A Week had passed since Alysa had left, leaving a palpable emptiness that expanded with each beat of your heart. The pain, far from diminishing with time, seemed to cling more tightly to your soul, as if the passing of the days did nothing but revive the memories of that fateful night.

In the oppressive silence of your room, the absence of words and human contact was a conscious choice. You had chosen withdrawal, seeking refuge in solitude to face the emotional whirlwind that enveloped you. Not even Aemond, your husband, had managed to penetrate the wall of your pain. Every time he tried to get closer, you retreated a little further, wrapped in a blanket of silence and memories.

One of the maids silently entered the room, carrying with her a tray of food that she knew beforehand you wouldn't touch. With a respectful but concerned gesture, she placed the tray on a small table next to the bed, discreetly removing the morning tray that was still intact.

"Dinner, your highness," she announced quietly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile balance of your silent contemplation. Her eyes reflected a mixture of understanding and regret at your persistent refusal to feed yourself properly.

Nodding barely perceptibly, you acknowledged the delivery with a gesture while you watched her leave with soft and discreet steps watched him leave with soft and discreet steps. Dinner remained in front of you.

Your gaze fell on the small knife next to the butter, an almost insignificant detail in the composition of the tray. You watched it for a long moment, feeling ideas swirl and fade in your tumultuous mind. Among them all, a single idea persisted, firm as a beacon in the midst of the emotional storm that enveloped you.

With trembling but determined hands, you took the knife and headed to your bed, delicately passing the sharp object across your wrist watching as blood began to flow.

You were surprised not to feel anything, you laid down carefully feeling how the liquid wet the sheet beneath you while your eyelids became heavy you didn't fight to stay awake the only thing you wanted now was just to rest.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Human cameramen are crazy

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The greatest decision Intergalactic Wave 6 ever made was hiring Reggie Bradford.

At the time of Finch’s hiring IW6 was a relatively small news organization based in the outer worlds. Barely reaching four systems on a good day compared to the top contenders like Celestial Times which was broadcasted in inner core systems and pulled in an average of twenty to thirty systems each broadcast. The anchors for IW6 were locals, a Temrelien that needed a third grade translator unit just to be barely understood and a Myporie which couldn’t see the color green.

As the underdog’s underdog, IW6 more often fed off larger stories reported by other stations or small local stories relevant to a handful of worlds.  Nothing interesting happened in their corner of the universe so as long as they broke even they were fine to never reach further than the length of their arm.

Reggie Bradford was a hired on as a cameraman to work for one of the planetary studios on Orbin VIII. You’d find him either working in the back making sure the camera bots were functioning or, more often, when they weren’t he’d be manning the forty pound cameras himself. The studio crews were always amazed how this seemingly out of shape man could heft the heavy outdated camera unit like it was as light as a pen.

They wondered what a lone human was doing so far out in the boonies as he would say, but he would always shrug and say that he felt like this is where he belonged; a notion IW6 would be most grateful for in the coming days.

When the Intherax/Coalition war broke out it was the biggest news story to hit the plasma streams since the death of Empress Karen III when she was eaten by her own corganai.

The Intherax were a militaristic society, trained from birth to kill before anything else, and spanned some fifty star systems not including client kingdoms and vassals. General galactic dealings with them often boiled down to standing aside from whatever they wanted and hoping it wasn’t you or your world, lest the invasion armadas would descend and obliterate what little civilization your people had been able to achieve and then be sold into slavery.

This time however when the Intherax made a proclamation to annex the colony worlds of Jense, Shatu’a, and New Hamburg the current occupants politely told them to bugger off and formed a Coalition for mutual defense. From there dozens of governing powers flocked to the coalition and added their strength to it in what they saw as the best chance of finally checking Intherax aggression once and for all.

Ever one for a challenge, the Interax declared war on this new found coalition and opened the conflict by orbital bombarding Jense until it was little more than a cold husk of rock trapped in the decaying orbit of its system’s sun.

What followed was best described as two sides of no holds bar warfare as the Coalition retaliated with the first ever invasion of Intherax territory against the world called Kai’de.

Naturally every news organization wanted to be seen covering the war, including IW6. Sadly they did not have anyone either brave enough to send so they settled on sending someone they believed was stupid enough and sent Reggie.

They expected to get some b-roll of soldiers marching or shots of fleet warships in formation. They never expected nor asked him to go into active combat. So when the first feed came back during their late night broadcast they were surprised to see that Reggie was onboard an assault ship breaking through atmosphere.

“Reggie,” the Temrelien spoke with every other word shifting tone from the broken translator, “where are you?”

“I’m currently with brave members of the 27th Dragoons as they head to take the fight to the surface of Kai’de.”

Reggie waved a hand at the soldiers who in turn gave a rousing cheer and slammed their feet against the metal decking.

“Orders came in late last night for a massed landing to take the enemy by surprise. From what I understand the Intherax military had not expected coalition forces to invade their territory and have not had time to establish proper defenses.”

Both news anchors looked at each other in confusion.

“If that’s the case isn’t this broadcast putting the entire attack at risk?”

To their surprise Reggie laughed as the camera shook.

“The plan was to get them by surprise, but judging from the amount of anti-air fire,” he said as the assault ship rocked back and forth, “I don’t think they were fooled.”

The camera panned right suddenly as one of the armored dragoons grabbed it and spoke directly into it.

“We want them to know we’re coming! Because we’re going to kill them all!! AHAHAHAH!!”

Another chorus of cheers and whoops came from the soldiers as the soldier let go of the camera and Reggie readjusted it. The anchors wanted to continue their questions when the leader of the dragoons shouted out and interrupted them.

“60 seconds!”

With the order given the soldiers stopped their foolery and began hefting their weapons. Reggie panned the camera over them as they slapped in fresh clips or attached power cables from their backpack generators to their more heavy weaponry.

In awestruck silence the anchors and their viewers watched as the assault shuttle slammed hard into the surface and the boarding ramp flew open.

“GO GO GO GO!!!!” the dragoon leader shouted as the soldiers poured out screaming their battle cries. Reggie waited and filmed them as they disembarked but did not join the first out the ramp. A inclination that saved him as enemy gun fire began raking the ramp striking several soldiers down in clouds of viscera and gore.

The censors barely had time to cut the feed while the horrified anchors composed themselves to resume the broadcast.

In the hours that followed IW6 confirmed that Reggie had survived the battle and had been with the unit of dragoons for the entire duration. During those hours he had recorded the entire engagement from ramp down, to storming city streets as the Intherax deployed building sized walkers, to the hoisting of the coalition flag over the central governing building at the heart of the city.

With this footage viewership numbers for IW6 skyrocketed overnight as none of the other networks had been able to capture such stunning footage. In fact, by the intake of broadcasts none of them had been able to attach an anchor or cameramen to the initial assault save for Reggie. When asked how he had been able to get approved for such a deployment he did not say which only further added to the mystery. Yet for the moment IW6 was far from ready to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Reggie’s footage was shown over and over on IW6 and was soon sublicensed to other networks and shown there. Exploits of the dragoons became known galaxy wide as Reggie followed them through battle after battle; never afraid to risk his life to capture the perfect moment.

When the Intherax fleet arrived in orbit and began to bombard the planet while also fighting the coalition fleet Reggie had forgone sheltering in nearby bunker complexes to film the orbital strikes as they hurtled down all around them.

Thick columns of pure energy shattered buildings and mountains alike as the ground quaked and there stood a lone Reggie filming it all. Even when the anchors begged him to find shelter he simply panned the camera over the city to show entire skyscrapers be reduced to molten mounds the oozed and sludged through the city streets.

By the time the battle had finally ended thanks to Reggie’s footage IW6 climbed the viewership charts to be the third most watched network galaxy wide. Much to the dismay of IW6 it also drew the attention of Reggie the cameraman to the other outlets who began showering him with ever more lavish offers for employment.

Too their surprise he denied them all and said that he was right where he belonged.

[mrsoharaa]

Ok but like, hear me out on this one rq lmao....

Prince! Satoru, who visits your kingdom on an arranged marriage delegation, who gets a littleee too flirty with you, the well mannered and awe aspiring beauty from all amongst the land, princess. and it takes every ounce of restraint and control for Knight! Suguru not to wrangle him by his throat for shamelessly flirting with you, shaming you with inappropriate comments and ridiculous proclamations of how pretty you would look with his heir, right in front of him. and Knight! Suguru can't/couldn't do a thing about it.😭😭💀🤡

[ordinorultor-if]

Welcome to Ordinor Ultor!

You’ve ruled the Duchy of Akize, the southwesternmost duchy in the Kingdom of Ribaur, for 15 years, since the year 1107 ME. 

15 years ago, your Liege had your parents executed for a plot they had no part in.

Despite becoming a ruler while only a teenager, your lands have done well - no thanks to your Liege’s proclamations. Despite the annoying interference, you would have been content to just administer your lands and pay your taxes.

But one day, your Liege goes too far, and wrongs one of your siblings - personally.

You’ve had enough. You and your siblings will chafe no longer under the yoke of that tyrant. You will be free from oppression - whatever it takes.

Choose your character's name, the name of their noble house, and whether they are a Duke (male), Duchess (female), or Dux (enby).

Choose which foreign land your mother hailed from - such as the northern court of Ostroway or the island nation of Sayland.

Pick the type of education you received - were you taught how to use the shadows of Intrigue? How to construct Martial strategies? Or something else?

Interact with your friends and family, possibly including your foreign cousins.

Choose how to deal with your Liege - will they be put on Trial, will you lead an armed Rebellion, or will you take to the shadows to have them Assassinated?

Pick from four gender-selectable ROs - two fellow vassals and two foreign nobles.

Deal with various interest groups - such as the Peasants you rule over, your fellow Vassals, the religious head known as the Hierophant, and more.

Ordinor Ultor takes palce in a low(ish...) fantasy world, with the protagonist's home country of Ribaur being inspired by medieval France.

I'm relatively new to coding, so I can't promise a concrete update schedule yet (also, if anyone has any advice and/or resources for me to use, I'd be very grateful!). That being said... VERSION 2 - RELEASED 5/4/25

VERSION 2.5 - COMING NO LATER THAN 8/8/25

I hope everyone enjoys!

If you would like to gain one week early access to updates and support me at the same time, you can do so on Patreon.

[laifromthecosmos]

Bharani Nakshatra and Fertility: The Cycle of Life under the rule of Venus

port-br

When watching films or plays that take place in the Middle Ages, you notice that some of them have the figure of the “herald”, those messengers who arrive at the location and open the letter (which looks like a parchment) and read the message aloud. The Heralds carried announcements and messages from the kingdom to the population, made solemn proclamations, verified titles of nobility, announced war and proclaimed peace. They were a preform of diplomacy. When they were going to announce something to the people, they would stand on a platform in the middle of the public square and shout the real news, usually wearing clothes that differentiated them to attract more attention.

Bharani Nakshatra (Aries 13º20' - 26º40') are the heralds of the energy of Venus, as they act as messengers or representatives of the essence of Venus in the world, carrying Venusian qualities, manifesting them in their lives and behavior. Venus is advocacy, seeks equity and is a peacemaker, devoid of aggression, but when it joins Mars, aggression and anger can be used as a tool of diplomacy (description by mike sleeping dog). In the eyes of Vedic elders, the star of this nakshatra forms the female sexual organ and thus became its symbol. This organ symbolizes the fertility aspect of life and a portal between two different worlds. In the Vedic point of view, it is described as death and birth, transformation and regeneration. It also represents restriction, care, jealousy, sacrifice, sexuality, nurturing and maternal love. Bharani carries all these attributes. It is the star of restriction that has the power to cleanse and remove impurities.

The main deity of Bharani is Yama, the god of death. Yama had a twin sister named Yami, who is considered the lady of life. Yama and Yami are a divine pair of creative deities. Yama is what connects mortality and immortality that carves mortal paths through death. In it is time and through time it describes a course for life, after the course life is absorbed into time. Yami is moved by Maya's emotions and love. Yama is mortal, but Yami is not. The procreation of mortals was granted thanks to the sacrifice that Yama made in annihilating himself, thus creating a debt (cyclic yajña). Through debt, exchange is created, and it is through exchange that the world moves forward.

There is a story that Yami fell in love with her brother Yama and wanted to have sex with him, arguing that this would not break dharma. She wished Yama to induce the embryo in her womb. It was a natural instinct that awakened in her mind and body after she reached puberty.

"She offered many arguments as to why this would not break dharma, but he knew that sexual intercourse with his own sister would go against dharma in the mortal world, where every action provokes a seen or unseen reaction. His reward for such self-control was to become chief justice of the universe." - Mike Sleeping Dog.

Bharani is a 16-year-old girl about to deflower, a baby in the womb or a person who faces the Yamadutas (heavenly angels whose task is to guide souls in the afterlife process) after death. Because of its childlike quality, Bharani is one of the most eager nakshatras. Just like a child wants to experience the entire environment, Bharani natives want to experience the environment to the fullest. There is a primal innocence in the way they experience things, people and places. They may go by instinct instead of reason. Most of your feelings and desires are so overwhelming that very little can be done to contain or calm them. Once again, the evolutionary status of the soul in question comes into play. All Bharani natives have a creative impulse within them. Females generally express this creativity through bearing children, while males attempt to be creative on stranger levels. Bharani is a nakshatra where interaction between man and woman takes place. This makes it one of the most sexual nakshatras in the zodiac. Bharani is representative of the force of nature that creates attraction between opposites. Bharani natives experiment, surrender, become victims and try to understand this force.

Bharani is the nakshatra that belongs to the first sign of the zodiac and is the first nakshatra ruled by Venus, this symbolizes the entry of the initial energy of creative feminine energy into the zodiac. Therefore, it is a feminine nakshatra. This is no longer a surprise, as Bharani represents everything feminine. It is the second nakshatra and the first female nakshatra. Just like the number “2” in numerology, it is the initiator of the feminine principle at all levels of existence. It is the beginning of duality and maya, and in it lies the essence of the complex functioning of the feminine principle. Bharani is considered a balanced nakshatra. Bharani is actually an extreme nakshatra, but it is classified as 'Balanced' due to its tendency to balance opposite extremes like birth and death. Bharani natives often lead double lives, reaching two different extremes. So, overall, their lives can be seen as balance. It is part of the Rajas Nakshatras (rajas is action to get desires fulfilled. It is the passion that drives one to action, often not getting the expected results, which leads to more actions), this can be easily accessed from the govt. of Bharani by Venus. Venus is seen as the most rajasic among the planets. Its relationship with terrestrial life processes is very strong. In a way, you could say that it is only Venus that makes life worth living. As Bharani heralds Venusian energy, its expression here is primordial, highly concentrated and explosive (all rajasic expressions). Venus is the planet of fertility, creativity and pleasure. In Bharani, these qualities manifest in the idea of ​​giving birth, both literally and symbolically. Fertility here is not restricted to procreation, but also the ability to create and nurture ideas, projects and new phases of life. Bharani, governed by Yama, also remembers that every beginning is accompanied by an end, a continuous cycle of renewal. Bharani represents the phase in which the seed is planted (the creative act that precedes growth. Being the first nakshatra of Venus, Bharani symbolizes fertility in its primordial state, the impulse to generate life. Fertility is linked to the feminine receptive nature, the ability to sustain life, something that Venus dominates. Bharani, with her association with the uterus, also speaks of the importance of gestation, essential elements of fertility. All goddesses, especially fertility goddesses, are linked to Venus.

Bharani is the nakshatra of karma and reincarnation, one of the least understood concepts in modern times, especially in the Western world. Bharani is the name of the stage where the masculine and feminine, which have arisen from a single genderless source, copulate and, in doing so, carry forward the process of creation.

[gingermintpepper]

I haven't read the Odyssey so I'm asking you. Are you telling me besides Athena, Apollo was the god who helped Odysseus and his family the most? Indirectly at least.

If that's true it's really a missed opportunity in EPIC.

No, no, the god who assists Odysseus the most after Athena is unquestionably Zeus.

Zeus genuinely has no problems with Odysseus and makes it very clear that he finds the man brilliant and would have already had him home and safe if he had his way, but he makes it clear that he's deferring to Poseidon who actually has the problem with Odysseus because, ultimately, the sea is Poseidon's domain and kingdom and Zeus doesn't intend to step on his brother's toes.

(Od. Book 1 trans. Robert Fitzgerald)

I'd definitely give third place to Apollo however. The big bug-bear about Apollo in the Odyssey is just that he's much less tangible than Athena or even Hermes who appears to Odysseus multiple times to help guide him/give him proclamations. His presence is everywhere though; like I've previously mentioned (and like he did with Jason) it's Apollo protecting Odysseus from Poseidon as he sails the sea after Odysseus blinds Polyphemus. It's also Apollo keeping Telemachus safe. His most vital role by far is when Odysseus returns to Ithaca in time for the challenge that will determine the next king. Not only is it a shooting contest whose first hurdle is to string a bow, the challenge itself takes place on a festival day for Apollo. Athena is there with Odysseus and Telemachus physically, but Apollo is looking after them in spirit, sending signs and signals to keep Telemachus especially safe.

(Od. Book 15, Telemachus warns about the state of Odysseus' house to Theoclymenus, a son of one of Apollo's prophets.)

There's also the fact that Odysseus makes sure to pray to Apollo before he attempts to string the bow:

(Od. Book 21. Beggar-Odysseus petitions to shoot his shot)

Likewise, before he slays the first suitor, Odysseus again prays for Apollo's guidance and gaze to guide his arrows:

(Od. Book 22. Odysseus commits the first of many (divinely-sanctioned) murders)

Also, as an additional thing, have Telemachus invoking Zeus, Athena and Apollo that he could see the suitors have their asses beat:

(Od. Book 18. Telemachus excitedly gushes to him mom about his cool new friend (Odysseus. Odysseus is the friend.)

There's a lot of minimisation of Apollo's role in the Odyssey because it isn't as bright and showy as his role was in the Iliad but hey, even there people tend to minimise how truly present Apollo is for the duration of the war when they're doing adaptations. Within Epic, the stage is already more than set for both Apollo and Athena to be there at the advent of Odysseus' revenge but none of that matters if that's not the creator's intention, y'know?

[kittenfangirl20]

Imprisoned King Au

Lucifer didn't look very impressed with the guards who came to his home, they had come with a proclamation from the far away kingdom of Eden looking for him to lower his borders.

They wanted Pride to join Eden.

Luicfer: No.

Lute narrowed her eyes: No? Your majesty, I strongly advise you reconsider.

Lucifer stood: I told you no, if Eden wants a peace treaty then Queen Sera will have to find another way.

Lute and all the other guards removed their swords much the Lucifer's shock.

Lute: Trust me, she has one.

-

Sera: Don't worry darling, Lute will be back soon.

Adam sighed, Lute was his only friend in the castle so it was always boring when she had to leave and actually do her job.

Adam: I know, I'm just bored.

Sera: Well, you could always go through invitations to find a husband.

Adam rolled his eyes and pushed the envelopes away, he didn't want to marry some snooty asshole.

Lute knocked on the door and bowed: Your majesty, I need to speak with you my Queen.

Sera: Of course. Adam dear, seriously look at them please.

She left with the guard to see the short man gagged and in chains glaring at her. Lucifer looked like he had been roughed up real bad.

Lute: What would you like done with him?

Sera thought for a moment and she knew she couldn't kill him, doing what she did to his kingdom was bad enough.

Sera: Take him to be cleaned and dressed, he will be Adam's personal servant. And Lucifer.

She walked over and gripped his face painfully in one hand.

Sera: If you tell Adam who you really are, I'll make you wish you had of burned with the rest of your kingdom.

Lucifer: I understand.

Lucifer glared at Sera as he was dragged away. They bathed him and had him stripped of his tattered clothes so he could wear simpler servant garb. Lute dragged him to a garden and threw him in it. Lucifer suddenly heard singing, it was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. He was drawn to the voice and saw the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He had soft short brown hair, a light dusting a freckles, and when he opened his eyes they were honey brown. He wore a deep plum colored gown.

Lucifer: You must be Prince Adam?

Adam: Yes, who are you?

Lucifer: I am your new servant, my name is Lucas Morgenstern.

If he said that his name was Lucifer Morningstar, Adam would know he was the King.

Adam: I didn’t know I was getting a new servant.

Lucifer: Your mother must have felt you needed one since you will need to choose someone to marry and be prepared for your day to inherit the throne.

A look of annoyance crossed Adam’s face at the mere mention of marriage.

Adam: I see, can you help me gather these papers up?

Lucifer helped him pick them up and he saw many men trying to get Adam’s hand in marriage. Lucifer didn’t know why, but he hated these men.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[goldenmeat]

He steps onto his stage like a king in the presence of his court. The heat of the lights is nothing compared to the fire of his presence, the weight of his dominance pressing down on the room. The audience isn’t just watching him. They are his subjects, hanging on his every movement, awaiting his majesty.

He grants them a show. Slow, deliberate, measured. His pecs bounce at the slightest shift, thick slabs of power that demand reverence. His back flares wide, an armor of muscle forged to perfection. Every step forward is one of conquest, each flex a silent proclamation of who truly rules this space.

And then, he turns.

The air itself seems to tighten as his glutes come into view. Rounded, beautiful, unyielding. He doesn’t need to look back to know the effect. It’s undeniable. He rolls his hips with agonizing control, flexing to send a message: this body is absolute. The audience, the judges, the competition, they are beneath him. He does not seek their approval; they will simply give it.

Oil gleams on his skin like polished gold, catching the light as he finishes his final pose. Chiseled perfection. Absolute royalty. He has left them speechless, a ruler standing tall before his conquered kingdom.

And as he strides off stage, he sees you. Eyes wide with desire and submission. Tongue dangerously close to falling out. He knows. He's found a loyal subject tonight.

[girlkisser13]

us

"i felt it, you held it" "do you miss us, us" "wonder if you regret the secret" "of us, us"

pairings: eloise bridgerton x royal fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. jealous and insecure eloise. childhood best friends to strangers to lovers.

summary: when your mother announces that you are to be wed to the most eligible suitor in london, you are faced with the decision of whether to fulfill your duty to your country or to follow the inclinations of your heart.

the grand hall of buckingham palace was alive with the murmur of conversation and the soft strains of the orchestra, but eloise felt none of the joy that permeated the air. her heart was heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled love. tonight, the queen had announced that her beloved daughter was to be wed to the most eligible suitor in london. a proclamation that had caused eloise's heart to ache with a deep and abiding sorrow.

the two of you had been inseparable since childhood, bound by a love that neither of you fully understood nor questioned. but the years had wrought a cruel separation upon you both, and eloise was determined to understand why.

she had heard rumors that you were sent away in preparation for your future role in the royal court. during those long years, eloise had poured her heart into countless letters, each one a testament to her unwavering affection. but to her dismay, she had never received a single response. your time away had polished your manners and refined your poise.

as eloise stood by the refreshment table, her gaze was drawn to the dais where you sat beside your mother, the royal family was the epitome of dignity, yet your eyes seemed to search the room with a longing that mirrored her own.

as the queen's pronouncement echoed in her mind, eloise felt a surge of determination. she could not let this night pass without seeking the truth from you. she knew that your marriage was a matter of state, a union that would strengthen alliances and secure the future of the kingdom. but how could she bear to see the love of her life bound to another?

unable to endure the torment any longer, eloise made her way through the crowd, her heart pounding with determination. she reached the dais and curtsied before the queen, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her.

"your majesty," eloise began, "may i have a word with princess y/n?"

the queen, surprised by the request, nodded her assent. you rose gracefully and followed eloise to a secluded alcove, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

"why did you never write to me, eloise?" your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt as soon as the two of you were alone.

her heart ached at the pain in your eyes. "i did write, my love. countless letters, each one filled with the longing and devotion i feel for you. but i never received a response. i feared you had forgotten me."

your eyes widened in shock. "i never received any letters, eloise. not a single one. my brother must have intercepted them."

eloise felt a mixture of relief and anger. “your brother? why would he do such a thing?”

“he always believed that you were a distraction from my duties,” you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. “he thought he was doing what was best for me.”

eloise took your hands in hers, her voice softening. "y/n, i have loved you since we were children. i have never stopped loving you. do you remember the summer we spent in the rose garden, reading to each other? it was then that i knew i loved you, truly and deeply."

tears welled up in your eyes. "i remember it well. and i feel the same. i always have. i never stopped thinking about you, even when i was away. you were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. i never forgot. i do not believe i ever will."

the realization of your lost years struck the both of you deeply. you had been kept apart by forces beyond your control and yet, your love had endured. now, faced with the prospect of a marriage of duty, your heart cried out for the freedom to choose your own path.

eloise hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "but when you did not respond, i thought perhaps you were ashamed of what we shared, that you had moved on."

your eyes filled with fierce determination. "ashamed? never. you have always been my heart's desire, eloise."

you leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you, capturing eloise's lips in a kiss that spoke of all the love, longing, and promises of their past. the kiss was a reassurance, a silent vow that your love had endured and would continue to endure, no matter the obstacles.

as you parted, your voice was resolute. "i will find a way for us to be together, eloise. i will speak to my mother. our love is worth fighting for."

eloise nodded, her heart swelling with hope. "together, we can face anything."

hand in hand, the two of you returned to the ballroom, your resolve unshaken. in each other, you both found the courage to follow the inclinations of your hearts, no matter the cost.