#queenly month of May

[aegonstradwife]

conception | aegon targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested; you and aegon have 4 daughters. while aegon is in a meeting they discuss the fact that the king doesn’t yet have a male heir. otto suggests aegon taking a second wife to have a chance at producing an heir. it pisses aegon off that otto would even suggest that.

warnings: talk of general misogyny, established relationship, smut. (riding, creampie.)

a. note: link to the original request.

It's a warm day, perfect for taking the girls out to play in the courtyard. They are glad to be free of their daily lessons, and you of your queenly duties.

One day away from such responsibilities couldn't hurt, and the sun shining down on your grouping had you in higher spirits than you had been for months.

Until you spied your husband stalking his way through the corridor toward you.

Initially, you lit up as you saw Aegon, as did your daughters upon seeing their father; he is so often away from them in council meetings or tending to other kingly duties.

For Aegon, seeing his wife and daughters makes him happier than he's been all day. It's a rare sight, seeing him smile so warmly, especially these days. But sadly, it doesn't last long.

The girls may not notice, as Aegon scoops the youngest into his arms, but you sure as hells do.

That menacing look, the red rimming his eyes. Telltale signs that Aegon isn't feeling his best, which unfortunately have been more prevalent of late.

"Aegon?" You lay a hand on your husband's arm, squeezing. "What's the matter, love?"

His violet eyes lay upon your hand squeezing his arm, and he tries to keep his terrible mood in check, so as not to take it out on you or the children. "There's nothing wrong, my dear."

But he refuses to meet your gaze as he presses a kiss to your daughter's forehead.

"Nothing?" You raise your brows, studying him. Something is wrong. Perhaps something you'd better not discuss around the girls....

"Ladies, why don't we break for lunch?" You announce, herding your daughters to one of the maids nearby.

With one last kiss to her chubby cheek, Aegon sets the youngest down and allows her to waddle off with the rest to the kitchens.

"Talk to me, my love." Once alone, you run your hands up Aegon's arms to his shoulders, kneading. "What happened? I thought you were meant to be at council all day...."

The king grumbles, frustrated to be questioned by you, but at the same time relishing the feeling of your talented hands kneading the tension out of his shoulders. Of which there is a lot.

His gaze meets yours, and there's a hint of annoyance in it, though whether at you or other matters, you can't initially tell.

".... Otto has brought a most pressing matter to the council today."

The breath he takes next is measured, trying to keep his composure, though he finds doing so much easier in your presence.

"What?" You frown, any number of terrible things flashing through your mind. All of them ending with the palace in rubble, your family ruined as Rhaenyra takes the throne. "Is it her? What awful thing has she done now?"

You dig your fingers ferociously into Aegon's shoulders.

A small pained noise escapes him, though he tries not to wince as he places his hands over yours to loosen your grip.

"It's not Rhaenyra." He continues to stare at you, his eyes full of an exhaustion you wish you could wipe away. "It's Otto."

You smooth your fingers apologetically over his shoulders, soothing the hurt. "So you said. What did he say?"

Aegon closes his eyes, that furrow between his brows relaxing for just a moment, as your fingers stroke him, before returning. He pauses, unsure how you're going to take the words that must next fall from his lips. Knowing they might hurt you. "He said we need a son, that we desperately need a son and soon...."

Your stomach falls. You knew this was coming - for years now you've only been able to produce girls. With every birth, Aegon's joy only grew, and your worry along with it.

What if you couldn't produce an heir at all? What if -

"We'll keep trying," you say resolutely. "I know I can give you a son. Just let's keep trying, please...."

"That's not all that was mentioned." It looks like it physically pains Aegon to tell you this. "The matter of a second wife was also raised, to try and help produce a male heir...."

You know husbands - especially kings - often take second wives when the first is unable to birth a son. Gods, it will about kill you if Aegon turns to that ...

At a loss for what to say, and feeling tears threatening to spill if you utter so much as a word, you cling speechlessly to Aegon, hoping for him to make it all better.

His hand is under your chin, cupping gently, forcing you to look at him. "But.... what if.... what if I don't care for a son?"

Shaken by this declaration, all thoughts of crying banished in worry, you clap a hand over your husband's mouth and glance around for any passing servants. "Do not say that, Aegon! What if someone were to hear...?"

A determined hand encircling your wrist, he pulls your fingers gently from his mouth, a grave look on his face. "And if they did? Why is it so important they think we care about a son? Why.... why couldn't one of our daughters be queen? Rhaenyra seems to think she has some claim to the throne. Why not our eldest?"

That intense stare does not waiver as he continues to peer at you.

"Aegon, please, not here..."

The cogs in your head are turning, as you grab him by the hand and pull him along into a spare room, Aegon following silently along.

It seems he, too, is thinking about what he's just said as he closes the door behind you. His expression is still earnest when he turns to face you.

You turn to face him at the same time, arms crossed. "You're saying you would name Syryn as your successor, as queen?"

"Yes," comes his simple yet fervent reply. "If Rhaenyra believes Viserys named her heir, then surely I can do the same?"

You chew thoughtfully at your cheek. "Otto will never accept it. I doubt the smallfolk would either. Isn't that why we're in this situation in the first place?"

"You think they won't accept it?" Aegon asks, cornering you and placing his hands on your shoulders. "I'll make them accept it. I'm the king, damnit. I don't want a son, I don't need a son. I have everything I need already."

The conviction with which he says it almost makes you believe it. "And.... you don't want to at least keep trying? For a son? Or even another daughter?"

Seeing your husband all worked up like this is making you feel.... things.

Aegon notices the immediate change in your expression, the way you look at him, your need for him.

"We will keep trying.... but not because I want a son."

His hands relinquish their hold on your shoulders to instead grab for your hips, gripping them firmly and pulling you flush against him. That earnest look in his eyes is now dark with desire, gaze roaming hungrily over your body.

Your hands come to sweetly cradle his jaw, humming contentedly as your body is pulled to his. "I love hearing you talk about our family this way. I love knowing you love us and will do anything to protect us, as king."

Twining a lock of his hair around your finger, you look up at him through your lashes. "I would love to give you another child, Aegon. Son or daughter."

He purrs as your fingers weave further into his hair, his hands tightening their grasp on your hips, pulling you ever - impossibly - closer.

Aegon leans down, breath hot against your ear, and breathes, "Then you'd better be prepared to keep trying.... over, and over and over again."

You can't help but grin, ecstatic at Aegon's joy over your family. You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders and kiss him; a biting kiss, teeth clashing, tongues sliding over each other.

"We should try now," you gasp, tugging at the back of Aegon's jacket. "While the girls are at lunch and you have some time away from the council."

Aegon groans agonizingly into your mouth before he pulls away, gaze now even darker.

"Such a desperate little thing, aren't you? Wanting to take advantage of your husband while he can spare the time," he teases, pulling off his jacket and tossing it aside.

Even just those words - Aegon calling you desperate, seeing you for what you truly are - are enough to make your legs tremble.

"Oh please, Aegon. Right here, I need it here."

The room you've found yourselves in is bare, with naught more than a fireplace and a few suits of armor dotting the perimeter.

As such, you pull him back toward the wall and lean yourself against it, fingers dipping under the collar of his exposed tunic. "I need to feel you, my king."

Aegon presses you back against the wall, your back aligning with the cool stones, his body now pressed firmly against yours. His lips find your neck with a huff of hot air, kissing and nibbling, hands grabbing for every bit of you they can reach.

"You're always so needy, so desperate," he mutters. "I'll give you what you need, my wife. I'll give you everything you desire."

As his hands work their way over you, yours do the same over him. His body has the perfect amount of cushion to it - being held against him is the most comfortable feeling in the world.

"Aegon...." You whisper, lifting a leg to wrap it high around his waist. "Give me another child. Please."

A deep growl escapes him at the wrap of your leg around him and he presses forward, wanting to make sure you can feel every searing inch of him against you.

"You want another child, do you?" His lips blaze a scorching path to the collar of your dress, which he tugs out of the way with his teeth. "You want me to fill you up and give you what you need?"

In a hurry to have him inside of you, you gather your skirts and pull them up with a quick nod. "Let's not waste too much time. Someone will be looking for one of us sooner or later."

He whines as your gown is hiked up, revealing the smooth, creamy skin of your legs and the heat between them. He runs his hands over those legs, leaving burning trails in their wake.

"So impatient," he murmurs, "but I have to agree with you."

He hunches down, positioning himself properly between your legs, and curls his hands around the backs of your thighs. "Wrap your legs around my waist, love, and hold on tight."

With your back still anchored against the wall, you wrap your legs tightly around your husband's hips and allow him to lift you from the ground. Your hands are still moving all over him, eventually skimming down to his trousers, which you start to undo the buckle of.

Aegon grunts his approval, allowing you to unbuckle his breeches. His gaze never leaves yours, though, as his breaths grow shallow.

"Gods, you're going to be the death of me one day," he sighs, hands squeezing at your thighs. "You always know how to drive me absolutely wild."

At this angle, it's hard to get your hand all the way inside the opening of Aegon's pants. But you do manage to circle your fingers haphazardly around your husband's half-hard cock and give him a few solid pumps to bring him to full hardness.

"And the way to drive you wild is to ask you to fill me full of your babies, isn't it, Aegon?"

His breath hitches at the feeling of your hand around him, a frustrated groan falling from his lips. His entire body quivers with desire as he leans in. "You know me too well. The thought of filling you with my seed, of giving you more children.... it's enough to drive any man wild."

"Any man?" You 'tsk.' "Doesn't the thought of just 'any' man getting me pregnant make you jealous, my king?"

With your legs already around his hips, it's hard to get the waist of his trousers low enough to allow his erection to pop out and Aegon has to help you, shoving the constricting material down so that the head of his cock can nudge at your folds. "I'm wet for you.... can you feel it?"

Though he doesn't say it aloud, he feels a sharp pang of jealousy at your words, a possessive need surging through him. He growls, hands gripping your thighs even tighter, eyes practically blazing with desire.

"Don't play with me. I know you're teasing, but it's enough to make me lose control." He leans in even closer, breath blistering against your skin. "Put me inside, my love. Let me feel you."

Arching your back away from the wall, you position yourself so that Aegon's cockhead is pressing insistently at your opening. "…. should I make you beg to fill me up?"

That simple question sets his body quivering with yearning for you. His fingers dig into your skin as he tries to hold on to his composure, but failing all the while.

"Please…." He groans, his voice low and hoarse. "Please, my love, let me fill you up. I need it, I need you."

"Good boy," you sigh, and after a quick peck of a kiss to his nose, you begin to relax the muscles in your back, allowing your wet cunt to slide down on Aegon's cock, welcoming him inside of you.

Aegon's eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure at the feeling of your warm, wet heat around him. With a sharp inhale, he redoubles his hold on your thighs, pulling you down onto him as he begins to move with you, matching your rhythm perfectly. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mingling with your moan and Aegon's desperate grunts. Aegon's face finds your neck again as he continues to drag you down onto him with abandon, deeper and harder with each thrust.

"You feel so good, my love." His voice is tremulous, hands beginning to shake where they hold you up. "I'm not going to stop until I get you pregnant again."

And it all feels so dirty, the hem of your gown trapped around your waist as your husband pulls you down by your hips, driving himself into you. Your hands try to grapple for purchase at the wall beside your head, but then settle for resting your wrists at Aegon's shoulders, tips of your fingers clawing and scratching at the back of his neck.

"Please, Aegon…we don't have long. Someone might come looking soon…" At this point, you don't even care if you climax, as long as Aegon's seed finds its home deep inside of you.

In response, Aegon nods, hips now moving even faster as he feels your nails digging into his neck. He can feel his own release building, evidenced by the way his chest heaves and his face has gone pink all over. The need to give you what you want is overwhelming for him.

"D-Don't worry, my love," he gasps. "I won't last long like this."

And with that, he gives one final, powerful thrust, burying himself deep as he empties himself inside of you, shouting your name like a war cry.

There are few things in this world you enjoy more than the feeling of Aegon's warm seed splashing inside of you. You hum, eyes rolling back, as the king spends himself inside you.

He pulls you close, holding you tight against his chest. "I love you," he gasps, with a kiss to your temple. "And I love our daughters. Fuck a male heir. Syryn will be queen."

Capturing his lips in another kiss, you run your hands gladly up and down his chest. "Syryn will make a great queen. She already bosses the other girls around like it's her job."

Aegon chuckles, pulling back to look down at you with a gleam in his eye. "I think she takes after her mother in that regard."

[natsredbra]

Okayyyy since season 3 is here and I'm just talking about Iris, so let's change it up a bit to...NATALIE😈😈😈 MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA

God...she's sooo hot this season it's almost illegal :( I was thinking about running off with Natalie to go skinny dipping in the lake, just taking a break from queenly responsibilities to cool off for a few hours <3 I was also thinking about making out and fingering her in the water and she would be so whiny about it, just making the sweetest little noises as she lets herself be kissed and touched

Or eating against some random tree far from camp because she's been so stressed lately and you just want to please her.

Or even better😈😈 scissor with her in your little cabin at night while the other girls sleep, letting her ride your face too and simply use you to let off steam. Making this thought even better with the prospect that yes she had a relationship with Travis but they are no longer together, still she never felt so much pleasure with him and she really started to like you, so imagine poor Travis simply being awake in the cabin next door and ending up hearing everything, from the half-muffled moans of the two, to the wetness of their pussies and the little compliments sweet and passionate confessions😓 poor Travis, this boy is really sad... and kind of uncomfortable I think

I'm just a girl🤭♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡

-🌺

may i PLEASE ask for your hand in marriage?? 💍

Right as the two of you go to bed, you suggest the idea to her- it’s a nice way to let off some steam, and just be yourselves without everyone’s prying eyes on you.

She seemed ecstatic and extremely happy to go skinny dipping- it’s something you two hadn’t done in a while. I mean yeah, maybe you have been ‘just friends’ up until a couple months ago, but there was always insane tension, that you finally released now that you’re away from society.

But back to skinny dipping- you guys stumble down to the lake, hand in hand and giggling with a makeshift torch and a towel

Stripping in an overdramatic manner, you jump into the water, still close to each other……it’s all very wholesome and cute for maybe two minutes, before you start violently making out close to the shore, but still in the water.

You were on top of her, holding her thighs close as they wrapped around your waist while she sucked on you tongue and let out desperate little noises UGHH

Finally shifting a little to let your hand travel lower and lowerrr, until you reach her sopping hole and give it teasing little rubs

She may have control over everyone- but in this moment she was all yours. All yours to take and please as you wish. And oh, how you do.

Your fingers make soft strokes inside her, while your mouth maps out every inch of her face and neck, peppering them with soft kisses while you tell her what a good leader and good girl she is <33

And she just diessss! You know how to please her so well, something no one has done for her properly before…but unfortunately you’re a cocky little bitch and want to have more fun with her.

So you pull out, and fight the urge to moan when her pussy practically chases your fingers, and you assure her that it’ll be okay, and that she’ll get exactly what she wants and more soon enough<3

————————————————————————

Somehow, as you attempt to quietly get back to your hut (key word, attempt) you almost immediately found yourself pinned under her, with her pussy rutting against yours

She’s resting her head on your shoulder with your panties in her mouth, along with one of your legs draped over her hip as she fucks herself into you…honestly, she usually let you take charge, but you knew that this was more then horniness, she was letting alllllll her frustration out on you, and fuck you shouldn’t like the thought that much.

But still, with the fabric in her mouth her whimpers are only half muffled, and you can still hear them, as well as some incoherent praises and cussing

Yet she wasn’t very experienced with girls, and definitely wasn’t too sure how to top one, which also made her frustrated out of her mind…she was right on the brink but needed some kind of push, yet she didn’t know what or how.

You actually think she might start crying. Everyone’s always on her ass, Shauna is being a fucking nightmare, and now she can’t even cum! And that’s when a little idea popped in that pretty head of yours.

“Baby- you wanna sit on my face?” You drawled out, fully witnessing her expression change into one of want

She just nods slowly, straddling you and throwing forementioned panties across the shelter. You could feel her wetness on your tummy as she sat on you, subconsciously grinding her hips on your lower belly…you have to stick your tongue out to remind her of what you were doing.

She climbs up immediately, hovering over you- which you hated. You hated having to chase her with your tongue, so you grabbed her hips and pulled her down, pressing her entire body weight atop of your face.

She lets out a surprise gasp, but bites her lip to attempt and muffle any sounds…which becomes increasingly hard once your mouth starts exploding her folds.

She got more confident as it went on, riding your face as if it was a fucking pillow, telling you exactly what to do, saying how good she feels, doing her absolute best to hold herself up, and you love every second of it.

As she gets closer and closer, she throws her head back, still biting her lip- likely hard enough to draw blood. But she isn’t able to conceal one low moan when her orgasm crashes over her, it comes like a tidal wave, making her go limp and see fucking white.

You slap her cunt as she gets off you and lays beside you, looking utterly spent- if these people were gonna be irritating, they will hear her letting that irritation out.

Everyone can see just how happy and content the two of you were next morning, and they know why too. After all, they barely slept, you practically kept them up with you. But probably the hottest thing to happen was seeing Travis’ face, and seeing how distraught he was. Not only had he never made her feel that way, he probably didn’t even know it was possible, considering some of the things he heard last night would likely make Lucifer clutch his cross necklace. And maybe you should feel bad, for his dad, brother and whatnot…getting his girlfriend stolen right before his eyes, but it just turned you on more. Safe to say, this was now a habit the two of you made.

[cynicalclassicist]

To the lusty month of May!

A May Day Parade contribution except again I had no time to write ahead of time, so have some excerpts from a Once and Future Court LARP character sheet.

A memory that might be a fantasy or might have been a dream: Helping hands fussed with your clothes, once, and a crown glittered on your brow. All eyes turned your way, gazes and hearts alike. Men quested and fought and swooned for a word, a glance, a touch of your hand or a strand of your hair. You reigned over a court of admirers with an indulgent smile.

(…)

A false sister usurped your place then, too, from a false-hearted father. And your easily-swayed husband, abandoning you, replacing you just like that. A besotted knight and his besotted comrade spiriting you away—for love, they said, all for love. How many times must you hear it? From how many untrue lips?

Wearing a crown means you can trust no one. They all want something from you, and none of them know you. Love professed at first sight, and valiant deeds to prove it, and you know: you are only a symbol. A prize to be won, or a star to reach for. Nothing real.

Yet you are lonely. You want to believe the fervent expressions of desire, love, fealty, friendships. Perhaps a test. A show of cruelty, a moment of grace, and they dance on your strings. Another test. Ah—he failed, again, as badly as your father and worse. Ah—but it was a mistake, a curse, sorcery or a potion, not in his right mind. Of course. Of course he wasn't. And you were only joking when you spoke cruelly enough that he sought his own death. All a misunderstanding.

[queer-ragnelle]

Tumblr's May Day Parade 2024!

Calling all Arthurian creators!

This May 2024 let's celebrate Arthurian Legend in all its bloody spring time glory with our unique creations and contributions to this ongoing tradition. Artforms of every variety welcome and encouraged. The May-themed prompts are...

May 1-5: Morbid Month of May {May King Mordred}

“Know that he will be born the first day of May in the kingdom of Logres.” —Post Vulgate

May 6-10: Queenly Month of May {May Queen Guinevere}

“Seeing it now, this crown of swords...Guinevere is the only one who knew where it was.” —Alliterative Morte

May 11-16: Lusty Month of May {Free Space/Flower Festival}

“Tra la! It's May! The lusty month of May! That lovely month when ev'ryone goes Blissfully astray.” —Camelot Musical

May 17-21: Grumpy Month of Kay {Seneschal Celebration}

“Sir Kay, the Seneschal. Is that your name?...Now wit ye well that ye are named the shamefullest knight of your tongue that now is living.” —Le Morte d'Arthur

May 22-26: May le Fay {The Anti-Queen Morgan}

“Now come forward and see a king's daughter wield a sword.” —Post Vulgate

May 27-31: May Day Melee {Violence is Romance Enacted in Blood}

“A melee quickly ensued in which a large number of knights took part; spearheads and broken shafts soon covered the ground.” —The Crown

✧✧✧

Rules: Each prompt allows 5 days except for free/flowers which is 6 days. All mediums accepted: Illustrations, paintings, writing, music, videos, gifsets, webweaves etc. No AI generated content.

Remember to tag #May Day Parade and @queer-ragnelle so I can reblog your creations! If you have any questions feel free to ask. :^) Good luck!

[semisolidmind]

Okay, i have to ask, is Peaches a workaholic? Or at least someone one who has to stay active less they get a bit angsty when stalled out? Not mention a bit of an overachiever? I imagine she is since not only has she worked for a merchant noble family but also has to deal with two very clingy, not quite sane, lovesick monkeys and a whole kingdom. (Though, i guess Wk and Mac would be a bit more involved in the last one than her)

Like how would Wukong and Macaque keep her busy? or get her to take a break?

Wk: Peaches. My darling wife, my loving mate, my beautiful queen who i oh so adore with my entire being.... What. Are. You. Doing?

Peaches with the upmost seriousness: Cleaning. I was getting a bit anxious just standing around so i decided to help the servants clean.

Mac: Cleaning?... You're cleaning... a kitchen... made of STONE? STONE MY DEAR! YOU'RE CLEANING STONE?!

Peaches: Yes.

it's definitely an adjustment for reader to go from working nigh constantly to... little to no responsibility. the first few months of her capture were mostly spent trying to escape or taking depression naps, but after that passed she began to feel anxious about not working. her former employers weren't cruel, but they definitely expected a certain level of punctuality and diligence from reader. to suddenly have nowhere that she needs to be and nothing she has to do was tough to get used to.

so, reader began to help in the kitchens. though the kitchen staff insisted that she didn't have to, when they saw the look on their queen's face...they took pity on her. she was allowed to help clean or to take turns stirring pots. then, once swk allowed her to go outside, she would go over to the orchards and ask to help harvest fruit. again, the monkeys set to harvest the fruit were hesitant. surely their queen wouldn't want to dirty her robes climbing trees—oh wait she's already doing it, ok I guess she's helping us now! reader may not be as adept at climbing as her subjects, but she's determined. and despite not being as fast, reader fills several bushels of peaches on her own.

the warlords are initially unsure about allowing their peach to work; she's a queen, and part of the reason they took her was so she wouldn't have to work. but...she seems very happy after a day of assisting the servants. she's tired in the evenings, but happily tells the boys about what she did that day, who she worked with. it's the most spirited she's been in months. so despite their hesitancy, wukong and macaque continue to allow reader to help at her leisure. unless they have plans for her, in which she will be carried away from whatever chore she's doing to attend to her queenly duties (ie paying attention to her husbands).

all in all, reader's efforts have (unbeknownst to her) thoroughly endeared her to the servants of the palace kitchens and orchards.

[rmelster]

Hello Friend

Was Isabella of Aragon’s marriage to manuel of Portugal unhappy?

Omg, you read my mind!

well, I would say so. She loved her late husband, Prince Afonso, and after he died almost seven months into their marriage, she threw herself into such an acute grief she cut her hair and started wearing the habit of the Clarisa nuns, even going as far as to beg her parents to allow her to become a nun, which they promptly denied; she became obsessed with religion and, when the Catholic Kings forced her to get married to Manuel (who had displayed a measure of attraction to her, ‘choosing’ her instead of the infanta Maria), she asked him to banish the Jewish from Portugal, to which he was reluctant since he admired them, but to which he eventually complied half-heartedly; and, as it is shown in the show Isabel, their marriage did not lighten her mood, and had she lived longer, I doubt she would have been happy. In a way, she had partly died alongside Afonso, and the Catholic Kings did a great evil by forcing her to marry a man she didn’t love when they still had a pretty much healthy and unmarried daughter that could make a dynastic alliance (infanta Maria, that was; she was even considered as a possible bride to the King of Scotland, who eventually married princess Margaret Tudor); beside, the expulsion of the Jewish was the bigger evil of all this affair -imagine how many families had to flee because of a dynastic whim (more than a dynastic strategy)! Among them, there was philosopher Baruch Spinoza’s direct ancestors.

What little time she spent with her second husband (about ten months) must not have been a bed of roses for the very much grieving Isabella, who no longer saw Portugal as her love nest with dear Afonso, but now as a burden with the man duty had enforced upon her. The fact that Manuel got her with child pretty soon after their marriage may have not alleviated, but worsened, her depression (because I may dare to say she suffered from it after Afonso’s death and her unwanted marriage to Manuel). I don’t know how she fared before paying visit to the Catholic Kings, but I can imagine her raising an austere court with few merriments, or living rather reclusively when her queenly duties didn’t force her to be otherwise, finding both solace and torment in religion (I recall having read of her fasting, and perhaps such an stern one it negatively affected her health), in a sort of Eleonor Magdalene of Neuburg way.

As for Manuel’s feelings, I don’t know them. It is obvious to point out his egoism (why didn’t he followed the original plan to marry infanta Maria, or wait for her to reach a more agreeable age and marry her, instead of forcing the heartbroken widow of his nephew to marry her with the kings’ complicity? Why?), but if he was hopeful that time or motherhood would ease her grief, or if he thought it hopeless but somehow still went on with the marriage is a mystery to me. Looking at the Catholic King’s sons in law, it is easy to see the difference between Manuel, who at first sight appeared to posses a more reposed character, to that of the manipulative Philip of Austria or the philandering Henry of Wales (VIII); yet how he regarded the woman his heart (and not his good will or reason) had chosen, or if he tried to ease the burden of her duty and her grief, that I don’y know.

Ten months into their marriage, Isabella gives birth to the long awaited heir, a child named Miguel da Paz; but worn out by her distress and suffering from ill health (as I previously stated, very much likely debilitated by her fasting), the queen died within an hour of the birth. The little Miguel da Paz died before turning two, yet another tragedy for the Trastámara, having died his uncle Prince Juan, Juan’s posthumous child being stillbirth and having Isabella of Aragon died. A little more than three months later, Manuel remarried to Maria of Aragon; this marriage, which would last sixteen years and bring ten princes and princesses into the world, was described as prosperous and happy. After Maria’s death following the birth of her tenth son, and as a punishment to his sister for her love with a courtier, Charles V gave his elder sister Eleanor’s hand in marriage to Manuel instead of his son John, which was originally intended; they had a son and a posthumous daughter. Manuel would die of the plague in 1521.

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

.

"Are you awake?" she asks when she cracks open the door.

His room is dark, he is tangled in his own bedsheets, his face half-buried in a pillow when he replies, "Indubitably."

The door opens fully, then shuts again, and a few moments later Sotha Sil feels Almalexia crawling into his bed. He tries to remember when she started doing this, simply inviting herself into his space without permission, and he realises that she's been doing it since they were children, and it's far too late in their lives for him to reprimand her on the concept of personal space. He feels her arranging herself in his unwashed blankets, feels a strand of her Queenly hair fall over his pillow and hit the back of his neck. He waits patiently for her to make herself comfortable.

"How long have you been in bed?" she finally asks. "It reeks in here."

"Twenty-six hours and thirty-seven minutes," Sotha Sil replies. "Excluding brief excursions to attend to basic bodily functions."

"Why are you talking like an arcane manual?"

"Only those of insufficient intellect find my locution abstruse. Contemplate acquiring a thesaurus."

"Sil." And he feels her roll over to face him. "You're the one being abstruse."

"Incorrect utilisation of that lexeme."

"You're an incorrect utilisation of a lexeme."

"A clumsy attempt to flirt with me, if that's the purpose for which you've intercalated yourself within my location of slumber."

"Go outside," Almalexia complains. "See the sunlight. Interact with a woman. Or let me bring you something to read that's not a dictionary."

"I'm still practising my Dwemeris," Sotha Sil rebuts, though his voice has sunk down to a sleepy mumble again. "Perusing the dictionary is a credible use of my temporal imprisonment within the mortal sphere."

Mercifully for the both of them, Almalexia lets him lapse into silence.

And it's almost cozy, the two of them lying there, even though they do not touch.

And finally Almalexia asks, "Does staying in bed help you?"

"It's not meant to help," Sotha Sil replies.

"Would you like me to take you somewhere?"

"You'll carry me-- where, the council-room? I wouldn't be a welcome sight in a meeting, like this."

"There's no meetings, the council won't be in session for a few months yet. We have nothing to do."

"I'm content here, thank you."

And, funnily enough, she seems to be, too. She does not move, but she does not argue with him either. Though the bed is not large, they still do not touch.

"You're welcome to experiment," Sotha Sil finally says.

"Experiment."

"With lying here. See what the outcome might be."

"You said it doesn't help."

Finally, he finds a modicum of life somewhere in his tired dead limbs. Finally, he rolls over to face her. He's surprised to find that Almalexia has been lying very close to his back, her face is now only inches from his. As if skeptical of her existence he presses a thumb gently against her cheek, and finds it warm, and a little damp, and real.

She mistakes this investigation for an invitation; she draws him into an embrace, folds him into her chest. He feels her breath in his greasy hair, and her sharp fingernails somewhere behind his shoulder-blades. He settles his face into the space under her neck and feels very resigned.

"I'm going insane again," Almalexia confesses.

She admits this with terrible reluctance. Sotha Sil can only assume it's quite frustrating for a megalomaniac to be betrayed by her own mind, just as he, the artificer, is endlessly frustrated by the betrayals of his own body.

"I know," he says.

"I thought I'd lie here with you, until it… resolves itself."

"Insanity is not influenza." Sotha Sil mumbles into her chest. "I doubt the ailment may be rectified by a little rest. Start with a different hypothesis."

"I'm not expecting it to help... What would you say if I confessed that I'm scared of hurting someone?"

"I would be flattered that you chose me as acceptable collateral."

She doesn't even bother to reassure him as to his collateral status. "Just," she begins. Then she pauses. Then she says, "Please stop me if I do try to hurt someone."

"I don't care if you do," Sotha Sil replies.

"Seht."

"Hurt everyone in the world if you wish. The world allowed House Sotha… it doesn't matter to me who suffers, I am incapable of caring about that or anything else."

Almalexia lets out a sigh so heavy that he feels her body sag around him. She holds him a little more tightly, shoves her Queenly face into his unkempt head and inhales.

"That's why I came to you," she admits, miserable. "I knew you'd give me permission."

[rootsfm]

event 001: the bloodless crown … welcome to high queen undine greenbriar's coronation.

the  high  queen  undine  greenbriar  is  late.  her  coronation,  many  thought,  should  have  been  an  occasion  done  and  dusted  many  moons  ago.  but  there  was  the  mourning  period  of  high  king  elias,  and  then  the  choosing  of  the  council,  then  waiting  for  the  council  to  settle  into  their  duties,  and—  some  may  even  say  that  this  is  an  omen,  a  high  queen  fated  to  never  be  crowned.

yet  an  omen  no  more  that  is,  with  the  coronation  fast  approaching  and  all  of  elfhame  invited  to  witness  the  crowning  of  the  bloodless  queen.  even  the  folk  from  the  deepest  depths  of  the  undersea  have  surfaced  for  this  occasion,  with  their  own  queen  at  the  helm.

it  is  meant  to  be  a  joyous  moment  for  all.  but  the  shadow  of  elias  greenbriar  still  remains  in  the  darkest  corners  of  the  realm,  and  as  the  new  queen  finally  steps  onto  the  dais  and  the  fae  rise  to  murmur,  may  the  queen’s  reign  last  long,  the  unspoken  question  lingers:  how  long?

view details under the cut.

event details.

all  of  elfhame’s  gentry,  including  those  of  the  undersea,  have  been  invited  to  celebrate  high  queen  undine’s  coronation.  this  means  that  everyone  will  be  at  the  high  court  for  at  least  two  weeks  to  a  month  around  the  coronation  date.

the  coronation  itself  is  an  occasion  that  only  stretches  for  a  night,  but  the  revelry  does  not  stop  there.  there  are  parties  before,  and  will  be  parties  after.  some  are  officially  planned  by  the  master  of  revel,  while  some  others  simply  seeing  other  members  of  the  court  riding  the  high  of  it.

undine  greenbriar  became  the  high  queen  of  elfhame  a  little  over  two  years  ago  —  really  a  blink  of  an  eye  for  most  of  elfhame’s  population.  despite  the  delay  in  her  coronation,  however,  she  has  already  sat  on  the  throne  and  performed  her  queenly  duties.  the  magical  greenbriar  crown  was  passed  down  to  her  by  her  father,  therefore  granting  her  the  right  to  the  throne  already.

ooc information.

all  characters  in  play  will  be  at  the  event  at  the  start  of  the  roleplay.  this  is  mandatory.

members  are  allowed  to  write  threads  from  anywhere  between  their  muses  arriving  at  the  high  court  to  during  the  crowning  of  queen  undine.  please  refrain  from  writing  threads  set  after  the  official  coronation  —  trust  us,  something  is  coming  for  after  that.

this  event  will  be  a  two-parter.  we  will  give  members  two  weeks  to  start  event  threads  set  in  part  one,  up  until  friday,  17  january.  more  information  about  part  two  will  be  released  closer  to  that  date.  please  make  sure  that  all  part  one  starters  are  posted  before  the  above  mentioned  deadline.

feel  free  to  ask  in  the  q&a  channel  if  you  have  any  questions,  and  lastly,  have  fun!

[queenlywear]

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[starfall-spirit]

Heavy Rests The Crown

HRTC Masterlist

Summary: Respectively ruling land and sea, the newly appointed High Lord and young merqueen find themselves pressured to marry. Their solution-a union their advisors would never approve of. Not that they can do a thing about it now.

Word Count: 1, 760

Chapter I: A Queen's Duty

Feyre

Feyre knew her tension was obvious as she stepped into the council chamber where her head advisor waited for her. “Your Majesty.” Though she no longer wanted to flinch at the title—though the crown she wore felt marginally lighter—she despised the title her oldest sister was meant to inherit.

While faerie monarchs passed their title to their most powerful heir, as long as anyone could remember the power of the merking or queen had always passed to the eldest child. And Feyre was the youngest. Untrained, compared to Nesta. Even compared to Elain.

No, Feyre hadn’t so much as thought of the queenship. Not when she was the graceless wild child. No one could tell her why she had been selected as the next monarch when Nesta was the oldest—the one prepared to do this.

So the queenly crash course began.

She met the eyes of the male who had verbally addressed her entrance. “You called for me.”

“Yes. There was a matter that we failed to address when we gathered this morning.”

This morning had covered everything from food sources, to sending a representative to the surface to discuss the route of shipments into Velaris, to rebuilding where a recent hurricane had damaged the reefs and housing. Being so inexperienced, these past few weeks had felt rather daunting. Whatever they were about to bring up, she was in no mood to hear about it. Pushing that down, she smiled.

“And what matter would that be?”

“Your marriage.”

She stiffened. “Pardon me?”

“You'll need to marry by your next birthday. You are the queen. You have no children—”

“I have no intention of marrying for some time.”

Not for decades if she could help it. Not for centuries if it took her that long to find her mate. “I realize you may have been permitted notions of mating when your sister was the presumed successor.”

Nesta never held romantic fantasies. She’d always told Feyre and Elain their fantasizing would only get them hurt in the end. She was bound for a political match and it wasn’t an unlikely outcome for the younger sisters, had their father lived long enough to push them into society for an advantageous match.

Feyre could only begin to imagine what “ideal” suitors the male before her had in mind.

“Unfortunately, that opportunity can no longer be considered. I have a few potential matches prepared, all of whom I hope you’ll agree to attempt courtship with. I—”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’d prefer we finish this discussion another day.” She was gone before he could answer. She didn’t particularly care if he knew exactly where she was headed.

Feyre knew it pissed her advisors off when she swam to the surface. It was bad enough she did so as a princess, but since her fathers power transferred to her rather than one of her elder sisters the offense became a thousand times worse. The fae of Prythian and the merfolk occupying their waters had been at peace for decades now, both parties permitted above and below the waves. But she was the queen. As long as she remained unmarried and heirless, it would a concern for them. Even one she could understand. But she wasn’t getting married.

She sighed as she emerged from the Sidra River, where her territory and the Night Lord's connected. She was hardly a rare visitor, but she had been on a tight leash since the shift of power and hadn’t set foot on land in almost three months. Her queenship was a mere rumor, just as the death of their High Lord was a rumor to the mer. The staring of those who weren’t too busy to notice her were understandable.

“Feyre!”

The stunned crowd dispersed as one of her favorite Illyrians approached where the land and water met. Cassian’s grin was infectious and had her sour mood left to the sea as he pulled her from the river, watching her silvery-blue scales and torso wrap turn to skin and a simple dress, only the more permanent scales framing her face remaining to mark her as a creature belonging below.

“We’ve only had a couple of mer surface lately. What’s been—” She watched as he noted the diadem nestled in her hair. She’d been in such a hurry to flee her council and their lineup of suitors she hadn’t thought to take the thing off. “So its true. The title didn’t go to your sister.”

She pulled the crown free and dropped it into the dress’ skirt pocket before wringing the water out of her braid and tossing it over her shoulder. “Don’t make a big deal of it. I’m still just Feyre. I needed a quick escape from my advisors, is all.”

“Alright.”

“Speaking of power shifts, what happened to the High Lord. We heard…”

His expression was pained. “As normal as everything down here seems, with the trade ships and all…” She followed his gaze to the city proper. Dark mourning banners covered the shops, housing, and what laid beyond, sobering the hustle and bustle of the docks they were leaving. “The High Lord wasn’t exactly beloved, but Victorie and Avyanna were.”

With the constant disagreements and the late High Lord’s fear of Rhysand’s rising power, the heir was more often present in the Illyrian camps than in Velaris. Feyre didn’t even know his birthday or favorite color, but the lady and princess… Feyre had known them well. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”

“I’m sure your father—”

“My father only thought to care for Nesta and me on his deathbed. It isn’t the same,” she all but snapped. Then practically whispered, “How did they die?”

His jaw clenched. Feyre knew Victorie had taken him and Az in as sons to her. The rage coming off of him… Whoever had hurt them deserved his wrath. And that of his brothers. The general’s voice was low as he eyed the surrounding citizens, distracted once again. “Two months ago, they were traveling to meet Rhys. They were murdered by the Spring royals. Rhys and his father returned the favor.”

Horror swept in. Not only at what brutality her mind conjured of the dead royals, but the political ramifications of it all. With the entire Spring family wiped out where did the power go? She’d educated herself on Prythian’s government as well as she could, spending so much time on the surface. But how did the power transfer? “The entire family?”

“Tamlin claimed the title of High Lord. Rhys couldn’t bring himself to kill him, but there’s no repairing their friendship. He was the only one who knew when and where they’d travel.” It was clear he was done with the topic. She reached to squeeze his hand—one last act of condolence. “Where are we headed?” she asked instead.

“With Rhys and Az home we have more family dinners now. Care to join us? You might actually get to share a conversation.”

“Dinner sounds great.”

“Alright. To the House of Wind, then.” Chuckling as Feyre grumbled about merfolk belonging on the ground or below, he swept her into his arms and shot into the sky, perhaps going slightly faster than he knew she was comfortable with.

“Ass,” she grumbled as he set her down in the foyer, instantly tugging her deeper into the house.

“Is that Feyre?” An unmistakable squeal met her ears and she held back a grunt as Mor flew into her arms. Amren didn’t move from her seat in the large living space. “Cauldron, Feyre, it’s been months! Where the hell have you been?”

She snorted, freeing herself enough to fish the diadem out of her dress’ pocket. “Dealing with years worth of training our officials assumed only Nesta would need. And overprotective advisors who won’t let me above the surface without an armada. I humored my main advisor until he started going on about marriage and heirs, told me mating was a luxury for anyone but a queen.

"I know that, of course. Nesta always accepted such things. Cauldron, she would have made a perfect queen--and convince them to push off the marriage for a few years, I'm sure."

“And what's your deadline?” Mor ventured.

“They want me married before my next birthday. I’m an immortal. Why would I need to get married at twenty-two? I’ll be utterly miserable for centuries if I pick one of their snobby lords.”

“I feel you there,” she muttered, reminding Feyre she had barely escaped such an arrangement herself, and paid a steep price for it. Feyre had yet to meet the Autumn heir and had no desire to.

“Moving on, Feyre insisted. I hear you have your own rising royal?”

“Indeed,” an unfamiliar male behind her confirmed. Rhysand, then. Turning, she met his eyes, slowly taking in the rest of him while simultaneously checking her mental shields. She had forgotten how attractive he was. She hadn’t forgotten his daemati gift and had no interest in sharing her thoughts with him. He inclined his head.

“Welcome to my home,” he said as if she hadn’t seen the place dozens of times. “Feyre, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

Tucking away her crown again, she aimed to shake his hand. The shadowsinger behind him snorted as his High Lord tilted her offered hand inwards, leaning down to brush his lips against her knuckles. The proper means of greeting a queen, and yet she hadn’t expected Rhysand to partake in such formalities, especially as he had acknowledged her by her name a moment ago.

“Cassian invited me for dinner when I surfaced,” she explained, freeing the hand he held as she mastered her slight breathlessness at the touch of the male before her. After just rambling about being unwilling to marry, she refused to fawn over a fairie royal who upheld a reputation for his arrogance and unabashed womanizing. Whatever that little tug in her chest meant, there was no sense in trying to acknowledge it.

“Of course. It seems the ladies have already broken into the good wine.” Mor swatted his shoulder before pointedly downing what was left of her glass and flouncing towards the dining room. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

The stiffness of the conversation was nearly unbearable, leading Mor to break the following silence with a loud clap, her wine presumably set over her plate in the dining room as Feyre trusted hers would be. “I’m starving. Let’s have at it.”

And as the group fell into an easy banter over their meal, Feyre couldn’t help but wonder why the High Lord’s tension remained.

Next

~~~~~

AN: This is set in a different timeline, just a few months after Rhys' family dies. We're gonna say he became High Lord at like 75.

Tagging my usual Feysand list plus the excited rebloggers on the HC post. As usual, tell me if you want to be added or removed, guys.

@shallyne // @faeriequeensuriel // @s-uppertime // @reverie-tales // @goddess-aelin // @pandavelaris //@acourtofwips //@the-lonelybarricade

[nanshe-of-nina]

Favorite History Books || The King’s Other Body: María of Castile and the Crown of Aragon by Theresa Earenfight ★★★★☆

Queen María of Castile, wife of Alfonso V “the Magnanimous,” king of the Crown of Aragon (1416– 58), governed Catalunya from 1420 to 1423 and again from 1432 to 1453 while her husband was occupied with the conquest and governance of the kingdom of Naples. For twenty-six years she had control over the provincial governors, prelates and religious orders, the nobility, the army, the municipal government, and all other subjects regardless of legal status. She could grant constitutions and make laws in accordance with royal authority and could sign letters in her own hand according to her own conscience. She was empowered to carry out justice, both civil and criminal, and to name judges and delegates. Assisted by a royal council separate from the king’s, she had full royal authority in Catalunya.

Such legitimately sanctioned political authority in the hands of a queen is remarkable because María governed Catalunya not as queen in her own right, or even as queen-regent, but rather as lieutenant general (lloctinent general).  In the privilegios that named María lieutenant, Alfonso clearly stated that her powers as lieutenant should be equivalent to his own as king, referring to her as his alter nos. María was clearly more than just a wife offering advice: She held the highest political office in the most important of Alfonso’s Iberian realms and, in political terms, was second only to the king himself. For a medieval queen, this combination of exalted royal status plus official political appointment was not common and may not have existed outside the realms of the Crown of Aragon. But in the Crown a unique contractual form of kingship and government had developed that relied heavily on delegated authority to rule the far-flung constituent territories in the Mediterranean. Established in the thirteenth century, the lieutenancy was both an ad hoc adjunct to the king and a training ground for princes to rule one or more of the constituent realms of the Aragonese crown. The institution was the by-product of innovation brought on by rapid territorial acquisition during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries— encompassing the kingdom of Aragón, the county of Catalunya, the Balearic Islands (Mallorca, Menorca, and Ibiza), Valencia, Sardinia, and Corsica— that stretched across the western Mediterranean. This widely dispersed geography forced the kings to travel frequently and delegate authority normally reserved to the king to their wives, sons, and brothers. As an official form of co-rulership it is, to my knowledge, unique.

… This bare outline of her reign tells us much about rulership in the Crown of Aragon in the later Middle Ages. But more broadly it makes a compelling argument for a reformulation of our understanding of the place of queenship in the institution of monarchy. María of Castile, and an Aragonese queen-lieutenant in general, may be unfamiliar to most scholars of the Middle Ages, and she may seem anomalous and her experience ungeneralizable to the rest of Europe, but her case exposes the limitations of current explanatory models of queenship. She did not rule in her own right, so comparisons with female rulers like Urraca of Leon-Castile, Isabel of Castile, and Juana of Castile are misleading. Even though she married an Aragonese prince and derived her office as queen-lieutenant from her marriage, she does not fit the typologies that analyze queenly power in the context of marriage and motherhood— queen-consort, queen-mother, queen-regent, and queen-dowager. She had no children and thus could not be queen-regent for them in their minorities and could not exercise a queen-mother’s privilege to act as diplomat when arranging the marriages of her children and grandchildren. She could she serve as queen-dowager because she died a few months after Alfonso and his brother succeeded him immediately. María’s reign typifies the idiosyncratic character of the office of queenship, poised ambiguously between family and bureaucracy.

[latristereina]

The twenty-five months from April 1469 to May 1471 are one of the most dramatic periods of English history. Edward IV had suffered insurrection, disloyalty, imprisonment, and exile, while Elizabeth had experienced the murder of her father and brother, the birth of her son in sanctuary, and had been besieged in the Tower while her husband hazarded his life in battle. There is no evidence that, throughout all this, she behaved with anything but a queenly dignity which won the admiration of loyal contemporaries. No writer saw fit to criticise her, and William Alyngton, the Speaker of the Commons, ‘declared before the Kinge and his noble and sadde counsell, thentente and desyre of his Comyns, specially in the comendacion on the womanly behaveur and the greate constance of the Quene, he beinge beyonde the See’.

Her devotion to Edward was obvious and she had fulfilled her role impeccably. Her beauty had not occasioned any scandal (in striking contrast to two of Henry VIII’s English consorts), and those who has feared the worst in those now far-off days of the 1460s had learned to respect, and admire, a lady who had proved herself to be everything an English queen should be.

- David Baldwin, Elizabeth Woodville

He [Edward IV] was clearly a man of considerable intelligence, equipped with a particularly retentive memory. He had considerable personal charm and affability and by temperament was generous, good-natured and even-tempered. Consistently courageous, he had great confidence in himself and the capacity to inspire it in others, and from early in his career showed natural gifts of leadership.

- Charles D. Ross, Edward IV

Edward IV had ruled England wisely, and despite his warlike upbringing, had devoted himself to peaceful pursuits. He had encouraged commerce and declined war with France, while wisely keeping the money voted by Parliament for the purpose, and at the same time accepting a large sum from Louis XI to leave French soil…

- L. G. Pine, Princes of Wales 

Happy Birthday, Irina! @edwardslovelyelizabeth

[elentiyawhitethorn]

A Dance to Remember

Rowaelin Month, Day 24

A Missing Scene from Canon @rowaelinscourt

CW: none

AN: Thank you to @cretaceous-therapod for giving me this idea, and thanks to anyone else who gave suggestions! This takes place at the end of KoA after Aelin’s coronation. Also, this is my last fic for Rowaelin Month, so I hope you enjoy!

Rowaelin Month Masterlist//Main Masterlist//759 words

Aelin discreetly wiped a tear off her face, her head turned away from the crowd. She took a deep breath to collect herself, then turned back around.

Rowan rubbed her back comfortingly. The gesture said more than any words could. He understood better than anyone what she was feeling so deeply in her bones at this moment: the heavy but welcome weight of her crowns, the bittersweet remembrance, and the utter disbelief that she had gotten to this point.

He understood it all. Every inch of her body, every thought in her mind, every tainted, tarnished edge of her soul, he knew and loved. He was her consort to the throne, her husband, her mate, her other half. Together they made up one being, one love.

Which left Aelin with only one thing to do.

“May I have this dance?”

Rowan broke into a soft grin. “Indeed you may, Your Highness.”

Aelin smiled and pulled him onto the dance floor. As newly crowned queen, she was obliged with leading the first dance. Of course she would choose no other partner than Rowan.

The dance floor was big and open and empty, the crowd staying to the edges to wait until the first dance was completed. Conversations hushed and eyes turned their way as Aelin tugged Rowan to the dead center of the floor.

She grinned, almost sensing Rowan’s thoughts.

I’m sure you adore having all eyes on you.

Aelin straightened her back and placed one hand on Rowan’s arm, the other on his shoulder.

Why shouldn’t I? Aelin retorted. I’m the prettiest lady in the room.

While perhaps not the prettiest, Aelin knew she looked good, the black dress lined with gold she had changed into for the ball making her look as fantastic as ever.

And while her people thought she looked queenly, Aelin knew Rowan was remembering the other black dress she’d worn, the entire back a roaring, golden dragon.

This dress was designed to set fire to her mate. After all, setting fire to things was one of Aelin’s specialties.

Rowan smirked. You certainly are, he seemed to reply.

Then he started moving.

Aelin gasped as she was pulled into a waltz. Rowan… knew how to dance.

His steps were impeccable, his timing flawless, his posture perfect. Aelin knew Rowan was a graceful being, despite his large stature, but never had she imagined him to be the type to dance. And he knew it, too, smirk widening at her shocked expression.

Aelin flashed a wicked grin, her only warning before setting fire to both of their crowns. A few shouts of surprise and delight sounded from the crowd as their queen and consort were bathed in flame, but most everyone else remained silent as they watched their leaders move.

Aelin loved to dance. She always had. It was a passion of hers that she’d neglected for too long, but no more. Now she was moving faster and faster with each step, drawn closer to her mate as they stepped and spun and smiled.

The beat picked up and Rowan dipped Aelin, then pulled her up not a moment later. Each movement on both of their parts was swift. More than swift—they moved like two people enchanted, possessed by the pull of the music and the draw of their magic.

Never had Aelin danced like this before, sparks trailing from her golden shoes. Rowan didn’t lead Aelin—they led each other. Through every spin they lost themselves and found themselves all over again.

Aelin had had experience with magic, of course. She wielded fire after all. But this was the most magical Aelin had ever felt before, emotions of too many names rushing through her very blood and bringing her closer to her mate; not physically, but emotionally. Their souls were bound in this dance.

They moved for some immeasurable amount of time, too lost in each other to notice anything else. And when the music came to its crest, roaring as it hit the final note, Aelin and Rowan came to a stop, perfectly still, not even breathing as silence came over the ballroom. Aelin was almost panting from the exertion, but she kept her head held high.

“Oh, Rowan,” she whispered, so softly no one else could hear.

Then she lunged forward and pulled Rowan into a kiss. Rowan tugged Aelin closer and deepened the kiss, his lips in a passionate game with her own. They only parted when both Aelin and Rowan were smiling too much to continue.

Cheers lit up the ballroom.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

[donttouchmyasymptote]

A Fair-est Winter - Apple/Darling

This is my gift as part of the @eah-exchange, written for @atomicjuniper!

Hey Kaitie! I also love Dappling and Dexven, so I wrote a fic featuring them. Apple-centric! It’s primarily more on the Dappling side, with some Raven and Apple friendship, though it’s originally based on your prompt of the two ships going on a double date. Here, they’re visiting Snow White’s kingdom for Christmas.

Rating is General.

~*~

Snow fell into the December days, as finals ended and trails of students boarded the carriage cars and trains and portals and private planes and professionally-trained griffins home for the winter. Apple White would normally be one of the first to go, for the current Snow White, in her queenly CEO-frequent-face-of-Faerbes-magazine glory, would never hesitate to make a grand entrance, to remind the students that -- yes, you may be royalty, but the realm this school falls in is still under my jurisdiction, that as long as you study here, Apple is your Crown Princess. Yet, this year, Apple sat waiting on the school steps, suitcases beside, as people filed out past her.

“Stuck on the steps of the palace?” Ashlynn Ella trailed down from the front door past Apple.

She laughed. “Just waiting on a princess.”

It wasn’t that Darling Charming was late. Apple White was merely early, and hexceedingly nervous.

“Is everything spelltacular on your end, Ash?”

With that, Cinderella’s daughter smiled. “The court physicians have hexcellent news. Mama’s been doing her best in months… we might even get to do a trip this year, she mentioned wanting to go east of the sun.”

“They do throw some of the best balls,” Apple said. “Of course any Cinderella would love to go there!”

Ashlynn giggled. “And Papa knows of Hunter now, so things are looking up all round.”

They kept talking, passing the time until a carriage car managed by a mousy-looking footsman rolled up in Ever After High’s arched driveway.

Cinderella stories, rags to riches. Happily ever afters do hexist, Apple thought, and her mind drifted. Commoners, and even minor nobility, had a freedom in taking a highschool sweetheart to their parents, without much of a fuss. It wasn’t as if the royal teens of Ever After High didn’t date outside of the storybook, it was just that bringing it to the palace was a political move at the most minimum.

It was also why Snow White tardied this year.

Nonetheless, a new page was turning. Ashlynn and Hunter were proof. Maybe she and Darling would be too.

As if on cue, a rush of distinctive perfume and strident footsteps. There she was, Darling herself, carrying not one, not two, but three suitcases, on her arms.

“That’s just flexing at this point!” The sentence was said with a good-natured laugh that Apple knew to be her roommate’s. Raven Queen stood behind Darling, and Dexter behind her. “She insisted, Apple, how could I say no?”

With her own demonstration, Raven waved her hands and moved the suitcases down the steps via purple telekinesis. 

There was the other reason why Snow White tardied that year -- the other set of guests.

Apple adored Raven. They were roommates, best friends, walked hand in hand to Thronecoming together. When Raven shot up in the popularity polls, the only concern Apple ever felt was from that call with her mother. Still, befriend your storybook villain all you want at Ever After, risk the judgement of your peers for that, perhaps -- not that Apple was prone to being demonised --, but bringing it back to the kingdom, where you were the figurehead, the fairytale--

She was overthinking things. Apple knew she was overthinking things. Her mother had said yes to guests over for the Winter, anyway, and yes to these specific ones, too.

To be fairest, it was hard to say no to that one particular Charming branch without risking a political infarction. A queen has trade routes to protect!

“Dexter,” Apple greeted, standing up and giving a proper curtsy. He was nice. Respectful. It never sunk in before that she’d one day get to call him her brother-in-law, but after everything with Darling, it finally did.

“Hey Apple.”

To Raven, Apple dove into her with a warm hug. “Christmas is going to be the best,” she emphasised. “I know it.”

“Would be nice not to get threats from Krampus this year,” Raven cracked a grin.

“Nonsense, does coal from Santa mean nothing to you?”

But when you’re the Evil Queen, here are visits that even St Nick is all too earnest to miss.

The odd couple -- prince and sorceress -- stepped aside. Only one person was left for Apple to properly greet.

“Darling,” and here, Apple was acutely aware of the weight of that name, the endearment intertwined in double-meaning. She reached out a hand. Her destined princess took it, kissed the back of it, beaming like the sun glinting off armor.

This was it, wasn’t it? The fairytale love that maidens go to the ends of the world for.

~*~

The D-Charming branch really undersold Dexter. He would make an incredible dignitary. He held the conversation with Apple’s mother that carriage car ride. CEO does not necessitate engineer, but Snow White’s mines sourced power for some of the latest advancements in spelletronics, which Dex -- fond member of the Tech Club -- could talk on.

He took the pressure off. The girls could chat about next spellmester plans, with Apple and Darling comparing their lunch slots and free periods to determine when they could hang out during school.

Still, there was a coldness, not from the winter outside. If Snow White wanted to know about Raven, the question was directed at either Apple or Dexter, or otherwise…

“Well, what will you do for the rest of your life?” articulated with a saccharine smile.

For any princess, it was simple enough: rule, and rule well. Else, be a consort, run the kingdom, so that your spouse rules well.

“Isn’t that what the rest of my life is for?” Raven had responded with an ease that Apple realised she herself would never have had if put in the same situation.

Arriving to the kingdom, too, the atmosphere of the crowds shifted from whence Dexter and Darling stepped out, to when Raven stepped out. Apple clenched her perfect teeth and thought how Ever After High had created a mental microcosm, that returning home would not reflect the popularity polls at school.

~*~

“I don’t like how they’re treating you,” Apple said. She waited until the servants had finished moving her friends’ belongings into guest rooms, so it was just the two of them.

“It is what it is… not that it should be, but hey. I thought you preferred me as your evil queen.”

She frowned. “You already poisoned me!”

“Not on purpose.”

“But it got me here, got my Happily Ever After… I don’t know why they don’t love you now. I’m happy, isn’t that what matters?”

Raven laughed. Of all things, Raven laughed.

“There’s no story without you! There’s no Happily Ever After without a story…”

“Look, Apple, I appreciate you. I’m really happy for you. That’s why I’m here,” Raven said. “And hey, raised villain, remember? We don’t get safety nets, we know the risks. It’s not like I’m throne for a loop here.”

If she had been assigned a villain role -- Apple once thought -- then she’d take it with a strident pride, put on the facade, get a beautiful princess a happily ever after. “It’s more than just a role, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s very real, and it needs to be fixed. And maybe, hey, on the bright side, if evil were just a role, wouldn’t fairytale love be just a role as well?”

“Good thing it isn’t.”

“I agree.”

~*~

“Well,” Darling said, “Snow White’s kingdom is a lot more Christmassy than ours, which is to be hexpected. This is famously one of the biggest Christmas markets in the world.”

“Rivalled by only the Nutcracker Kingdom’s,” the hint of kingdom pride didn’t leave Apple’s voice. 

The apex of the trip. 

A princess had to be resourceful, and on a night where one was busy stuffing herself with German desserts, Apple would never be caught amiss without a bag to carry them all.

She introduced Darling to all the sweets from her childhood. “Other kingdoms are mad about oranges,” she made sure to point out any regional differences, “but if you ever doubted that the Snow White kingdom would value any other fruit over apples…”

As a kid was a phrase that fell often as the two wandered. This was the stall I went to as a kid. Oh, I played this as a kid. They're singing the songs that I heard as a kid.

“Nothing seems to change, huh,” commented Darling.

“It's reliable,” said Apple. “It's home.” She glanced up at her girlfriend. “This time it's different, though, it's with you. Oo!” A stall caught her eye. “Let's get lebkuchen!" and took Darling over to a stand selling gingerbread.

Nothing seemed to change. But now, with Darling in her life--

“Let's do something unhexpected.”

“Unhexpected?”

“Unhexpected. I showed you my childhood traditions, maybe we should create a new one.”

“Wonderland taught me that you should think of six impossible things before breakfast…” Darling trailed off, fuzzling her brow in thought, “but something unhexpected right now?”

“Oo, maybe I should suggest the unhexpected thing! That'd be extra unhexpected, coming from Apple White.”

A chuckle. “Alright, what have you got?”

Apple frowned, and looked around. This out of the box thinking was not her strongest suit. "Let's…" she said, "climb onto a roof, maybe?" Briar would be proud, she thought.

Darling arched an eyebrow, but didn't question it. "Gotta start somewhere. Let's do it."

So they did. Fittingly, it was a local bakery's roof. The two princesses sat there and watched the lights of the market below them.

"Did you…," Darling seemed to be searching for the words. "Did you ever think we'd end up like this?"

Apple looked up at her, mid lebkuchen bite.

"It's just that, well, you know, my family's… traditional," Darling continued. "Like, not necessarily by the book, or else they'd be doing something different. More like 'Chevalier Belle-Belle is an hexception, not a rule!' traditional? Authors, what am I getting at?"

"Darling, what's going on?"

The other princess laughed and kissed Apple on the cheek. "It's just that, I feel like I've been spending the past months rejecting the way I've been raised so much that, surely, maybe it would affect how I like princesses. Like, scared that associations would mean not being able to fully love princesses that fit the mould. I was scared that I wouldn't like you as much as I wanted to -- or do."

"And I'm certain that you do." And Apple was. "I like being a proper princess," she said. "And I like you, Darling. You make me feel like the storybooks were right, that there is a love to believe in and wait for."

Below them, there were voices in unison from the market crowd. A countdown.

Apple rested her head on Darling's shoulder. "Stollen?" she offered the Christmas loaf to her love. 

Darling broke off a chunk. "Stollen," she repeated. 

Together, from the height, they watched the fireworks.

~*~

The days stretched onwards, and Apple lost herself in countless hours spent with Darling. Exploring the vast private library collections her kingdom held, to sitting on meetings her mother held with other heads of states or company hexecutives, to wandering the orchards that lined the Royal Botanical Gardens.

They drank hot chocolate indoors and watched the snowflakes fall through ebony-lined windows.

But like reigns, seasons too come to an end, and Darling had to hasten home to spend the last week of break with her own family. 

Apple stood at the steps of her kingdom, and waved goodbye to the two siblings, in the practised and poised manner she only knew.

“Hey,” Darling sprinted back. “I forgot something.”

“What w--”

With a wave of her hair, Darling slowed the time around her, and caught Apple’s mouth with a kiss. “That’s what I forgot.”

The Charmings’ carriage car beeped, a frustrated footsman knowing that the children were not going to make it back on scheduled time. 

"Okay, gotta go. Remember that I love you!"

"I love you too."

She’d go to the ends of the world for Darling. She really would. Be one of those princesses who spend seven years, dedicated, searching.

What comfort, Apple thought, being only a border and a carriage car ride away.

[ellayuki]

01052022 - Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle

just how far we'd travel (both you and I know)

Tsubasa Chronicle Month - Day 1 - Sakura

~

Sakura sees the way the visiting baroness' sharp eyes take her in, sees the way the woman's fingers sink into her son's shoulders and the near-victorious look on her face, and for what is probably the first time in her life, she has to force a smile on her face.

It's not the first proposal for her hand, she knows, though those before had been tentative alliance propositions when Sakura was too young to even contemplate marriage. It's different now, though. She's a young adult, and she's a princess with powerful magic, and will likely be her brother's heir one day, so aristocrats from all over have started eyeing her. 

(She wishes she’d left with Syaoran and the others the last time they visited, she really does.)

She curtsies in greeting when she's presented, plays the perfectly polite and demure princess (not that she isn't, usually, but right now, with the way mother and son both look at her like she's a piece of prized meat, she has to force herself to be as gracious as is normal for her), and makes small talk as is proper throughout the evening.

And then, dinner is over, and the baroness wipes daintily at the corner of her mouth in a way that implies she means to speak, and Sakura swallows down a mouthful of wine. Imagines Fai And Kurogane sitting on either side of her, standing guard. Imagines Syaoran's smile just by her shoulder, and Mokona in her lap. It grounds her.

"Now," the baroness says, turning her sickly sweet smile towards the King and Queen. "There is a matter I wish to discuss, if I may."

Nadeshiko blinks, and Sakura knows her mother's smile. Knows the polite, queenly mask. "Ah, yes. You've mentioned in your letter. A proposal."

"Yes. My son has come of marrying age, as has your daughter. And I know he is no prince, thus somewhat beneath the princess' station, but-"

And really, Sakura cannot listen to this. She cannot. "I apologise for interrupting, Your Ladyship," she says, and raises her eyes to meet the other woman's gaze head-on. (Kurogane nods proudly on her right side. Fai laughs softly on her left.)  "But please allow me to stop you right there."

The baroness sputters, as does her son, who looks like the mere thought of a woman interrupting his mother might make his head explode. "Excuse me? Princess, I do not think-”

Sakura folds her hands in her lap, straightens her spine. Her parents look at her, but say nothing, so she continues, emboldened. "I already am engaged to be married," she says, and feels Syaoran's phantom hand closing gently on her shoulder. "So I am sorry, truly, but we have to decline your proposal."

And with that, Sakura stands, curtsies to her parents, curtsies to their guests, smiles at her brother and Yukito, and head held high, she leaves with a smile before anyone can say another thing.

(Imaginary Fai and Mokona whoop and cheer behind her.)

[warlordgab]

Nami analysis: Luffy will definitely become the Pirate King

This was originally meant to be a collection of a few Nami character moments to defend her from the trend of hate against her. But, a friend of mine got me to make an actual analysis about her given the recent manga developments. It's mostly about some aspects of Nami's growth throughout the series.

Let's start with one memorable scene from Skypiea...

...when Nami kept panicking, Luffy told her she shouldn't stop acting so pathetic for she's a companion of the future Pirate King.

Here, Luffy makes a connection between their success and the certainty of his dream. As in Nami shouldn't fear because Luffy being the future Pirate King means they'll always succeed at the end.

After Luffy gets BFR'd, Nami makes this her earnest belief. Instead of submitting to Enel in fear, or playing along with his plan to ensure her survival, she draws enough courage to take a firm stand...

...and face Enel on her own.

There's even a subtle symbolism in both scene. When Luffy is giving Nami the reason why she shouldn't panic, he gave Nami his treasured hat. And when Nami is about to finally challenge Enel, she grips Luffy's hat. (Oda is an amazing writer!!!)

It's subtle, but you can see Nami drawing courage from Luffy, his values, and his dream, to challenge a monster she had no way of beating

Oda decided to continue Nami's character growth in the movie he wrote, Strong World.

After realizing Shiki (and his army of mutated animals) headed towards East Blue, which included the hometown where her sister and other loved ones lived in, her first response was looking for Luffy...

...instead of panicking like she did in Skypiea, she sought the person that could reassure her everything would be all right. We went from symbolism to something a little bit more straightforward.

Even when Shiki defeated the East Blue team, Nami managed to keep her cool, so she could mess the plans of a legendary pirate who could easily crush her. Even when was caught and left to die, she didn't give up and proved she was willing to die to protect her hometown.

Huge displays of selflessness and actual courage. However, it's interesting to see that, as character moments, they were built upon her growth in Skypiea and Arlong Park. Why can we say that?

In Arlong Park she realized there are burdens, and even emotional luggage, she couldn't carry on her own so she had to rely on others to keep going. In Skypiea, she drew the strength needed to face overwhelming odds from Luffy.

Now, Luffy described Nami as their vanguard against Shiki, which indicates he knew that Nami was trying to fight Shiki's army from the inside. But, she never planned to carry this burden on her own. Luffy instilled in her the belief that being the companion of the future Pirate King means they'll suceed regardless of the setbacks they may suffer. At the end of the movie, we get the twist that Nami not only believes in Luffy...

...she gets embarrassed about the recorded proof of her faith in her captain when she realized Luffy didn't hear it. Arlong Park and Skypiea laid the groundwork for her belief, while Strong World solidified it.

Also, it’s worth noting her stand against Shiki is reminiscent of the brave attitude displayed by Silk (Nami’s earliest prototype) from One Piece’s first pilot: Romance Dawn V.1

A girl who was more than willing to fight in order to protect her hometown and her loved ones regardless of the foe. Was that intentional on Oda’s part? Who knows...

Now, how did Nami character change post-timeskip?

If we stick to the manga, everything they've been through so far had strengthened her faith and trust in Luffy and his dream. We can see it in the Wholecake arc...

... when facing Cracker, Nami declares with absolute confidence that the fact Luffy is the future Pirate King is pretty much the guarantee of their victory. Not everyone invokes a NLF when talking about Luffy.

So, when Sanji goes as far as brutalizing Luffy, and trash-talking his dream, Nami's response was... 

...which makes a lot of sense given how her confidence on the future, and part of her growth as a person, are tied to Luffy's dream.

The disrespect Sanji was forced to show now can be used as a contrast given recent developments; when Nami was in a life-or-death situation, scared and helpless before an enemy she couldn't beat on her own, she was offered a way out: disavow Luffy's dream of becoming the Pirate King...

... However, even when facing certain death, having no other way to defend herself or run away, Nami couldn't lie about Luffy becoming the Pirate King, not even to say her life. In the japanese version she answers: "Luffy will become the Pirate King... definitely"

We've seen Nami lying to weasel her way out of danger, but this time, she's literally incapable of lying about the fact Luffy will reach his goal. From her perspective that's a truth you simply cannot deny or reject under any circumstances.

That's an outstanding display of loyalty, but the overall theme connecting this moment to previous showings is "faith."

From Skypiea, she was told being a companion of the Pirate King ensured success, in Strong World, she was embarrassed to admit how strong was her faith and trust in Luffy. Post-timeskip, we now see her shouting it confidently to the enermy, and now she believes in Luffy so much, that not even facing death can make her say otherwise. That's how you develop a character!

I know I left out the Drum arc, Water 7, Shabaody, Fishman Island, Punk Hazard (Bellemere would be proud), Dressrosa, and Zou... but, it would take months and a kilometric post to cover hundreds of chapters worth of development. I only covered the essentials.

If you want more, check out the author's works; the manga and the Film series (SW, Z, and GOLD).

Point is, Nami is a great character who truly deserves to be described as “queenly,” not only because Oda said so, but also for her progression during this long-running story

BONUS:

Finally, I’m going to address an ugly trend in the west. Nami had been getting a lot of hate as of recent years. Even highly influential figures within the fandom tend to put down Nami. Many belittle her character, and they even compare her to other series’ characters that get treated as “chew toys” by their respective fandoms.

Why so much hate for Nami’s character?

Short answer: she has been dealt a bad hand

First, her role in the story and the crew puts her at odds with fans of characters they usually hype as greater figures of authority and power within the strawhat group. She commands too much authority, and that make fans pretty insecure about their favorite character’s position.

Along with this factor, there’s the fact she’s the most “human” in a crew (and a world) filled with superhuman people. Haters probably feel that someone so normal shouldn’t have so much agency. Specially when compared to other women

Speaking of which, that’s another reason why Nami gets so much hate. Her role as a heroine, and her superior navigation skills, makes her an incredibly important character to this story. And that makes the fans hyping other females see her a threat to their favorites’ position, like some sort of competion.

Which leads me to the other point people hate her: Nami’s relationship with Luffy. She’s closer to Luffy than many other women, which include more powerful and overhyped girls, and yes I said girls, because there’s more than one powerful female characters getting that hype

Last factor I’m going to mention is the pettiest of all: the way she responds to other characters. You probably realized that she reacted quite well to Inuarashi’s and Tonoyasu’s compliments, right? Well, thing is many fans want her to respond in a similar manner to their favorite character(s). Problem is that she doesn’t...

She’s a fiery woman with a lot of agency that doesn’t fall for flirting nor physical aesthetics, while challenging the main characters’ decisions, and/or questioning their idiocy. Meanwhile, there are physically stronger women who are far more submissive and/or subservient...

Overall, she’s on a bad position in the west.

Regardless of what haters feel or think, Nami is an amazing character that deserves as much love as she gets in Japan (probably even more). So, screw the morons trying put her down and/or failing to understand her worth. She’s the “queen,” and people should bow