#quill goddess

[thingsasbarcodes]

Class 1x07 - The Metaphysical Engine, or What Quill Did

[booksanddarkchocolate]

In gotg3 the spaceship of the villains is called ‘arete’ and I found that hilarious because arete (αρετή) is Greek for virtue and everything that happened there was anything but that

[some-zer0]

I think it's so perfect that Grizzop died because of his decision to kill Galba no matter what. Like, he died in order to complete his hunt. Truly the paladin of Artemis of all time

[ravenstakeflight]

Love, you reflect, is older than you thought she would be.

"I thought..." you look away, shifting a little. You're uncomfortable with yourself, having expected someone younger, brighter, more colorful. Someone like Irithea, that girl you'd fallen for in your teens. "I thought the goddess of love would look... different, ma'am."

She smiles, wrinkly and old, and you can't help but smile back. It feels familiar, like your grandmother's grinning at you from the other side of your Seeing Mirrors. "You may be thinking of my daughter, who rules over passion and romance. She's the younger one, dearie."

"I don't-" you hesitate, not knowing what to say.

"I'm the goddess of love, darling." She spins, smiling still. Her cardigan is a pale, sunflower yellow, and the dress under it is pink and spotted with stars. "The kind that lasts."

"... Oh." You don't know what else to say, standing in the crumbling temple as vines grow over and around the fallen stones.

"She is the one everyone summons when they want a summer love, something bursting and blooming over a short time," the goddess hums gently. "I am the one that stands by as marriages and love, the lasting kind like Demill and Carasnyth."

"They were real?" It's the only thing you can think of, embarrassingly, and the old woman nods with a soft smile.

"Of course they were." The goddess of love - long, everylasting love - Dornahi smiles at you. "What did you summon me for, child?"

“I thought the goddess of love would look…different.” The wrinkled old woman waved a dismissive hand, leaned closer, and smiled. “You are thinking of my daughter, the goddess of passion and romance. Dearie, I am the goddess of LOVE.”

[jenibearx3]

I'm obsessed with drawing these two OCs from my DnD group

(〃ﾉωﾉ) #SelenexQuill

Commission your own NPC,PC, or OC on my Ko-fi

♥︎ ୧〳 ＾ ౪ ＾ 〵୨♥︎

Website ♥︎ Ko-fi ♥︎ Tiktok ♥︎ Cara ♥︎ Bluesky ♥︎ DeviantArt

[beloveds-embrace]

The day begins like any other.

You wake up to the soft sound of the morning breeze rustling the curtains, sunlight spilling into the room in gentle golden streams. John is already gone, leaving only the faintest trace of warmth in the bed beside you. It’s no surprise- he’s a man of duty, all of them are, always rising early to tend to matters of the estate. But as you stretch and let out a soft sigh, you have no idea the storm you’re about to stir in his household.

You dress yourself today, in one of the lighter gowns Kyle had set out for you the night before. It’s soft and flowing, another gift from Simon, a delicate ivory fabric that catches the light and makes you glow as if spun from sunlight itself. You think nothing of it- it’s a comfortable gown, one that’s perfect for the warm weather of today. You fix your hair, a few strands left free to frame your face. It’s a simple look, practical even.

But it is enough to absolutely ruin them.

John is the first to catch sight of you.

You find him in his study, poring over letters and documents, glasses perched low on his nose. The moment he looks up, his quill halts mid-stroke, ink dripping onto the parchment below.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches. You don’t see the way his eyes darken as they sweep over you, lingering far longer than they should on the soft curve of your throat, the swell of your breasts just barely visible through the gauzy material of your dress, the delicate shape of your collarbone begging to be kissed.

“… My Duchess,” he greets, voice low and strained.

You smile, unaware of how the simple gesture strikes him like a bolt of lightning straight through his chest. “Good morning, John. I didn’t mean to disturb you- I was just going to the gardens.”

His jaw tightens. God, you’re beautiful. Ethereal. Untouchable, almost, and yet here you are- his wife. His to hold, his to cherish, his to adore. The mere thought of it makes his heart pound painfully in his chest.

You’re so sweetly oblivious, so utterly trusting. You lean over his desk, pointing at one of the letters as you ask about estate matters, and all he can focus on is the faint scent of roses lingering on your skin and the warmth of your breath against his cheek. He aches to pull you into his lap, to ruin that pretty dress and leave you breathless and marked, but-

“My Duchess,” he rasps again, standing abruptly. You blink up at him, startled. “Don’t linger in the sun too long. I shall see you later.” It’s the only warning he can give himself before he brushes past you and leaves the room, his restraint hanging by a thread.

Kyle finds you next, standing in the rose garden with a soft smile as you hum to yourself. You’re radiant, the sunlight catching in your hair and making you glow like some goddess of nature.

He was supposed to be bringing you tea. Instead, he stands there frozen, tray in hand, just watching.

You turn and catch sight of him, greeting him with that bright, lovely smile that never fails to make his heart lurch. “Kyle!”

He clears his throat quickly, straightening his shoulders and bringing the tray over, though he’s painfully aware of the warmth creeping up his neck.

“My lady,” he murmurs, setting the tea down on the garden table and pouring for you. His hands are steady, but his mind isn’t.

He barely hears you as you speak about the roses, about the arrangements for the next gathering. His thoughts are clouded by the way you keep brushing your hair behind your ear, the gentle tilt of your head as you sip your tea, the way your lips press together so sweetly.

You lean forward suddenly, reaching to brush a leaf off his shoulder, and Kyle stiffens. You don’t notice.

“You’re always taking such good care of me, Kyle,” you say softly, smiling up at him. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He only nods stiffly, stepping back quickly before he does something utterly improper.

Johnny is the worst of them.

You come into the kitchen around noon, asking him for a small snack to hold you over until dinner since you had a small lunch. He’s elbow-deep in flour and dough, sleeves rolled up and shirt slightly damp with sweat, but the second he sees you standing in the doorway, his brain completely short-circuits.

“Johnny?” you call again softly, stepping in.

He drops the spoon that’d been near, cursing as he scrambles to pick it up and then cursing again because his hands are now dirty. Yet- his eyes keep flicking up to you- how you look so soft and delicate in the kitchen’s golden light, how the dress hugs your figure and makes it so damn hard for him to focus.

You laugh at the sight of him like this, and the sound is like honey poured straight into his veins.

“Sorry, m’lady.” he says, voice rough, but you’re already stepping closer.

“It’s alright.” You reach past him to grab a plate, and he just about groans aloud at the way you brush against him, soft and warm and plush and utterly unaware of the effect you have on him.

“Johnny?” You look up at him, eyes so wide and trusting.

“Yeah?” He barely recognizes his own voice.

“You’re staring.”

He chokes, turning back to wash his hands as quickly as possible. “Sorry, m’lady. I’ll- uh- I’ll make something quick for you, promise.”

You only smile, sitting down at the counter and watching him work. He feels your gaze like a brand, burning into his skin, and he has never been so grateful for the long apron covering the very obvious evidence of his distraction.

And then there’s Simon.

You don’t even realize he’s there, watching you from the shadowed corner of the room as you flip through the books in the library. You hum softly to yourself, trailing your fingers over the spines, your dress shifting with every movement.

Simon feels like a beast barely kept on a leash. He’s gripping the edge of the shelf so tightly his knuckles have gone white, jaw clenched so hard it aches.

He wants you. Needs you.

You tilt your head to read a title, exposing the curve of your neck, and his breath catches. He imagines what it would feel like to press his lips there, to hear you gasp as he holds you close-

And then you turn and spot him.

“Simon!” You smile, moving toward him without hesitation, and he’s utterly undone.

“Hello, darling.” he murmurs, low and strained. Knows that he if lifts his hand to cup your cheek, his fingers would be trembling.

“I was just looking for something to read.” You say, so casually, so obliviously, as if you aren’t standing there looking like every single one of his fantasies come to life.

Simon only nods, forcing himself to step back before he does something he can’t take back.

By the time evening falls, the tension in the house is unbearable.

John’s jaw ticks as he watches you lean over the table, in a private dining room just for them, laughing at something Johnny said. Kyle’s eyes darken when he sees how your fingers brush against Simon’s as you pass him a dish. Johnny keeps flexing his hands as if he’s trying to resist the urge to grab you and pull you into his lap.

They’re all desperate, wound tight, and utterly at their limit.

And you- blissfully unaware- just keep smiling sweetly at them, unknowingly fanning the flames.

[freddleafton12345-blog]

Nsfw thought about doing it with the fiercest warrior of the Echidna tribe (female reader!)

I firmly believe Knuckles will worship your entire being. Even the ground you walk on. He's definitely the type of man who will kiss every inch of your skin. Breasts, tummy, thighs, he wants you to know how much he cares for you.

Though the 1st few tries you guys had with sex were sort of awkward. You felt scared that he might go too rough and accidentally hurt you, so you made up an excuse as to why he couldn't claim you. He bought it.

Then it happened again. And again. And again.

Finally the poor thing asked if you feared becoming his mate. You felt bad for hurting his feelings so you told him the truth that you feared his strength.

"My love.." he began, gently taking your small hands in his. "No force on earth could ever make me even think of hurting you. You are a goddess sent from the heavens themselves. I will make sure you are worshipped, loved, and satisfied for as long as you want."

And that's all it took for you to feel more eager to go all the way

~~~~~

- he tends to focus on your pleasure. Not his own. However he would like to release as much of his seed as he can into you, so he KNOWS your truly his

- he's got tons, and I mean TONS of stamina. He can probably go for 10 rounds before he needs a break

- he's always asking "is this okay, my love?" "My dear, are you sure you want me to go faster/harder?" He wants to make sure you aren't hurt!

- bites. He claims his mark will let others know you're taken, and already claimed. Expect to wake up in the morning with hickeys everywhere on your body (Tom and Maddie didn't notice because you put on makeup to hide the marks, much to Knuckles dismay XD)

- he loves it when you scream his name and grab his quills as he eats you out. You're like the best feast he ever got to taste. Your screams let him know he's doing his most valuable mission, aka, pleasing you till you're satisfied. (Tho the 1st time you screamed in pleasure, he thought he hurt you and stopped immediately 😭)

- he doesn't know much about how humans have many different positions. He's usually got you in a mating press, or he's on his knees, eating you out. He'll be open to other positions if you bring it up. He wants to learn as much as he can so he can properly treat you like the queen you are!

- when you 1st sucked him off he was honestly baffled. You sure had guts to be the one who started engaging in such activities with the last member of the Echidna's. It turned him on, but he won't admit that XD

- he doesn't get super loud. He typically let's out soft grunts and growls, and his tail wags a bit when he's nearing his release

- I think he probably has struggled in the past with heat seasons/ruts, because he never had a mate in the tribe. So when he experiences these issues, he holds back unless you DEMAND he go all out with you

- he doesn't really care if you make expressions from the pleasure. If it's an indication he's making his queen feel good, then he's happy

- Knuckles is the master of aftercare. He gets you anything you want, and his fur is nice and soft. So yes, he's an excellent cuddle buddy!

- if you happen to have a small happy trail/hair down near your vagina, he doesn't care. He just thinks it makes you more intriguing

- if you're on the chubby side, great! Means you'll be the prime candidate for his aftercare snuggles!

- say you've even got stretch marks. He thinks they're interesting. If you're sensitive about them, he won't talk about it further, as to not upset you

- overall he's always focusing on what makes you feel good, because you're his beloved mate, who will soon become his queen♡

PLZ REBLOG IF U WANT!))

[witchboxco]

Imbolc Altar Ideas & Correspondences

Imbolc, also known as Candlemas or Brigid's Day, marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It's a time to celebrate the returning light and the awakening of the Earth.

Altar Decorations:

Candles: Imbolc is strongly associated with the element of fire. Decorate your altar with candles in shades of white, yellow, and light blue to represent the increasing daylight.

Brigid's Cross: Craft or purchase a Brigid's Cross, a traditional symbol associated with the Celtic goddess Brigid. Hang it on your altar as a protective charm.

Seasonal Flowers: Place early spring flowers like snowdrops, crocuses, and daffodils on your altar. These symbolize the first signs of life returning to the land.

Herbs: Incorporate herbs such as rosemary, thyme, and cinnamon for their purifying and invigorating properties. Bundle them together with a red or white ribbon.

Seeds: Represent the potential for growth by adding a dish of seeds to your altar. Consider seeds associated with early spring crops like wheat or herbs.

Imbolc Symbols: Include symbols like lambs, ewes, and the sun to capture the essence of this seasonal transition.

Candle Holders: Choose unique candle holders or lanterns to enhance the ambiance. Consider using candle holders in the shape of suns, stars, or nature-inspired designs.

Divination Tools: Add divination tools like tarot cards or runes to your altar for seeking guidance during this transitional period.

Symbolic Stones: Integrate crystals such as citrine for abundance, aquamarine for clarity, and moonstone for intuition. Arrange them aesthetically around your altar.

Feathers: Symbolizing air and spirituality, feathers can be incorporated to invoke the energy of the season. Choose feathers from birds associated with the goddess Brigid, like swans or owls.

Artwork: Display artwork or illustrations that resonate with the themes of Imbolc. This could include depictions of Brigid, snow-covered landscapes, or symbols of growth and renewal.

Imbolc Incense: Craft or purchase incense blends with scents like frankincense, myrrh, and chamomile to fill your sacred space with a soothing and purifying aroma.

Correspondences

Goddess Brigid: Imbolc is sacred to Brigid, the Celtic goddess of hearth, home, and inspiration. Invoke her energy for healing, creativity, and protection.

Colors: White, yellow, light green, and light blue are associated with Imbolc. Use these colors in candles, altar cloths, and decorations to align with the festival's energy.

Stones: Crystals such as amethyst, garnet, and clear quartz resonate with Imbolc's energies.

Foods: Dairy products, especially cheese, and foods made with seeds like bread or muffins are fitting for Imbolc. Set offerings on your altar or incorporate them into your celebration feast.

Water: Imbolc is also associated with the element of water. Include a small bowl of water on your altar to symbolize purification.

Creativity Symbols: Imbolc is a time for inspiration and creative endeavors. Include symbols of your creative pursuits, such as a paintbrush, musical instrument, or writing quill.

Anointing Oils: Create or purchase anointing oils infused with herbs like lavender, rosemary, and frankincense. Use them to anoint candles, tools, or yourself during Imbolc rituals.

Animal Representations: Incorporate figurines or images of animals associated with Brigid, such as lambs, cows, or swans, to honor her connection to the animal kingdom.

Wheat or Corn Dolls: Craft small dolls from wheat or corn husks, symbolizing the harvest to come. Place them on your altar as a representation of the Earth's fertility.

Bell or Chimes: Hang a bell or wind chimes near your altar to symbolize the awakening of nature and the stirring of life. Ring it during your Imbolc rituals to mark significant moments.

Decorative Cloth: Choose an altar cloth with intricate patterns or symbols related to Imbolc, such as suns, wheels, or Brigid's crosses, to add a touch of magic to your sacred space.

May you find warmth in the returning light. <3

[superiorsturgeon]

half giant jaune is tasked with keeping watch of "the prisoner" whom, is having a crisis of faith, they cannot possibly be attracted to this wildman-they cannot- it isnt proper in the background, scribe ren resolves to climb three-quarters giant nora like a tree.

Amazon!Pyrrha: *in prison* I’m warning you, let me out of here! I didn’t do anything wrong!

Scribe!Ren: *looking at his clipboard* According to the city guard, you were arrested for vigilantism. You aren’t allowed to fight street gangs unless you’re a sanctioned member of the guard.

Scribe!Ren: Until the ambassador from the Amazon homeland finishes negotiating with the city government, I’m afraid you will remain in custody.

Scribe!Ren: Please don’t attempt to escape. We have two half-giant guards on-duty outside your cell to prevent any trouble.

Giant!Jaune/Giant!Nora: *standing guard wearing fur tunics and wielding huge clubs*

Scribe!Ren: If you need to make any statements, I will be over here at my desk doing paperwork!

Amazon!Pyrrha: *leans against the bars* UGGGGHHHH…! 😩

Amazon!Pyrrha: I could probably bend these stupid bars open, but it’d be a hassle to get past those two guards…!

Amazon!Pyrrha: …plus, that blonde half-giant is actually pretty cute! 😲

Amazon!Pyrrha: *plays with her ponytail* The way he has his tunic fastened really shows off his butt! 😍

Amazon!Pyrrha: NO!! Pyrrha, you are a noble Amazon, and you will NOT give into temptation! Remember the Amazon oath of chastity and purity!!! 😖

———————————————————

Giant!Nora: *grunts* I’m telling you, she’s totally checking you out! You should talk to her!

Giant!Jaune: *grunts back* Really…? But she’s so hot and I’m just a dumb half-giant with a part-time job! 😣

Giant!Nora: *grunts* Don’t sell yourself short! You should go talk to her! She’s only in for a misdemeanor!

Giant!Jaune: *glances over his huge shoulder at Scribe!Ren* I don’t know…isn’t it against the rules…? 😕

Giant!Nora: *smiles and grunts* Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the scribe! He’s been staring at my legs all night since I left my bear-skin leggings at home! 😉

Giant!Nora: *bends forward to lean on her giant club* 😏

Giant!Nora: *grunts seductively* Oh, no~! I seem to have worn my short tunic by accident…!

Scribe!Ren: *looks up from his paperwork and directly into a giantess upskirt shot at head height*

Giant!Nora: *winks at little scribe and blows a kiss* 😘

Scribe!Ren: *drops his quill and quickly shifts his legs to the side* O////O !!!!!

Giant!Jaune: *at the cell door, nervously using his best Common-speak and fidgeting with his club* …uh…hello, my name…uh…Jaune! Short…sweet…uh…😅

Giant!Jaune: …tasty…? WAIT, I mean…! 😰

Amazon!Pyrrha: 🤭 Goddess, he’s so big but he’s so nervous! How can he be this cute?! He’s like a huge puppy!😂

Giant!Jaune: *trying to recover* …uh…you, uh… 😖

Giant!Jaune: …you fight good…! 😣

Amazon!Pyrrha: Sorry, Amazon oath, I can’t NOT fuck him! 🥰

[ladybirdswritings]

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: You’re birthed into a lively family in dire need of financial stability. As the eldest, you’re paraded around to be married and much to the dismay of your mother, you deny every hand offered. Yet unbeknownst to you, a man of great power and influence, Mr. Snow, is lurking in the shadows, waiting for his chance to have you. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: I hope u girlies eat this up, getting scrapped otherwise </3 — as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated!

next chapter

one

You’d much rather be at any other breathing, standing tower of gold trimmings and cracked pillars in existence.

At any building filled to the brim, simply overflowing with tiered skirts and lively grins… offered hands and gentlemen donned in fine suits, pockets suffocated by their own riches.

Yet you cannot be; for mama has ordered your presence to be most dire and mandatory. Although you did consider fleeing for the highest hilltop or feigning ill, you knew well that mama would find you or see straight through your falsehoods.

“My my, you look as though you’ve got something unsweet taped to your vicious tongue.”

You scowl at the blonde goddess most confusingly known to be your sister, and she only flips a ringlet of gold behind her poised shoulder.

“I think it to be quite clear how dreadful I find this. No need to observe aloud, sister.”

Her mischievous sapphire orbs glow with enjoyment, face pink and flushed — skin glistening under the gold lanterns flickering above.

You’ve watched happily from your seat, she’s sure to have danced with at least twenty men now.

No wonder mama has no fears or worries about Jane. She is just guaranteed to run off and be married within the upcoming season, it only makes for less of a distraction for mama— she’ll be glued to you like quill to paper.

It is not as though men do not want you. Oh, they do. Most ardently.

The trouble is only that you do not want them.

How horrible it is to be confined to four lonesome, frayed walls with nothing more than your books and your wit to keep you company. Married to a man who will most certainly be your senior, who busies himself with trivial matters and leaves you to be cold at home.

You would much rather drown yourself in the river stix than face a fate so melancholic.

You wish to be an odd thing, to run away into a cottage and spend your days parted from the people who surround you. You will read books of men made from dreams and you will find comfort in knowing that you will not be wed to a man who will only discontent you.

Of course, that would bring great shame upon your family, ruin them. So it seems you will end up a spinster or a governess. Both fates, although not as you may hope in your dreams, still offer more joy.

“Forgive me for having fun. It is not why I displease you however, perhaps if you picked your pretty head up from that book and stopped waving the hands that greet you away— you would know this. Mama has sent me. The duke, his sister and a dear friend of his have arrived here. Here! At our party, can you believe it?”

You huff out a sigh laced with annoyance, flipping to the next chapter of the dilapidated thing in your hands.

“No, I truly cannot.” You mutter, yet you cannot spare the fresh page even a glance before it is snatched from your clutched fingers.

A first edition, it shreds from its spine and erupts a gasp from both you and Jane. Mama’s cyan gaze is cold and anxious, feigning a tight smile.

That one was your favorite.

You do not lift your head, you do not notice the three towering men who look down upon your reserved oak wood bench in interest. Mama clutches the duke’s palm in an embrace of suffocation, yet you do not pay it even a little mind as you drop to your knees in your pretty dress to find the strayed page.

“My god, where are your manners — girl! Please do not pay her rudeness any attention, she gets sickly over these things. Sweetheart, up now— we can buy you another.”

Her voice is cold, devoid of any admiration. It is a lie, too. Your family cannot afford even a singular chapter of a new novel, let alone a first edition. You should be the one plagued by frustration, yet you feel as though it is you who is doing something wrong.

Even so, your eyes search the floor with great fervor, landing on a polished leather shoe which suffocates chapter twelve.

You wince, preparing all the words you can to kindly request the stranger lifts his big foot off of your paper. Yet they dissipate in the back of your throat.

The man, he bends at his knee as he frees the old thing from his sole. Your eyes lift to greet him, then.

He is a mess of blonde locks, unruly compared to that of the others with hair long enough. Theirs are tamed with ribbons, his only sits atop his head. His eyes are a cold color, one you cannot explain. They are commanding, fueled with great intensity.

Beyond all of this?

He looks most certainly miserable.

He does not wish to attend tonight, one glance proves this.

He spares you no words as he passes you the paper, eyes locked upon the contents of it. He offers you a hand of assistance, too.

You ignore it, wincing at the disgust your mother expresses.

You need no aid as you lift to your feet and dust the old thing off, he follows you — becoming a tower taller once he stands.

Jane, you are grateful now that she is still here. She laughs most uncomfortably, placing a polite hand upon your shoulder as she snatches the page away. Far more gently.

“My dear sister, may I introduce you to your grace — sir Sejanus Plinth of Newbury. Alongside him, his sister — Grace Plinth and their dearest friend, Coriolanus Snow, also of Newbury.”

You know well that you’ve just about boiled a vicious pot of scorching water, one you’ll have to face the many consequences of. A quick glance stolen toward mama proves it.

With a soft sigh, you curtsy to the men before you. A show of respect which you most certainly do not have for them. They are just as unimportant as the others, grand status or not. Including the miserable looking blonde with cold eyes.

“Lovely to meet you. This is truly a grand gathering you’ve all put together…” Sejanus offers with a smile of pearl. You peer up at him, his eyes stealing quick glances at goddess Jane.

Mama goes off on a tangent about how much she adores hosting gatherings as much as attending them — and it’s all a mere buzz in your ears.

Your eyes shift toward the sister, Grace. She’s scowling at you… how peculiar.

“Jane, forgive me if this is far too forward but — I would be most honored to be the last dance you partake in this evening.” Sejanus swallows back his nerves, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Sweet Jane doesn’t bother torturing him, she only nods a shy head.

“Oh, come Grace! I must show you how my youngest daughter performs on the grand piano!”

You feel poorly for the scowling girl who is whisked away by mama. Jane and Sejanus follow alongside them, but part as soon as the music begins.

Both of your palms come to a clasp— shifting weight on your heels as you watch Jane twirl and giggle a golden sound, so beautiful you are certain it could bring each and every single gentleman in attendance to their knees.

Well, except the miserable Mr. Snow.

Your eyes drift to him then — and you catch his gaze already locked upon your stature. He averts it hastily, staring at what looks to be the far wall after he is caught.

Does he plan to lurk here like a shadow’s phantom for the entirety of the evening?

“Do you dance, Mr. Snow?”

His jaw is a sharp — tense thing. It clenches in surprise at your voice. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he answers.

“Not if I can help it.” Is but all he offers before returning to a miserable state of silence again.

By god, to garner more than a mere word is equivalent to the act of tugging teeth loose. You purse your lips, turning your head away to find another question you could offer.

You do not bother, however.

For the first time in all your life, in all the seasons you’ve suffered — you wish to dance. Not because you find it to be fun or any more stimulating than a novel but; rather because you would be far more joyous away from him.

Beyond this, it would make mama less angered when the gathering reaches its end.

You do not offer him a word of parting before you plunge into the lively crowd. A man with blonde locks, not quite as icy as Mr. Snow’s own tousles, offers his hand.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, pretending to be that of a girl in one of your novels. Whisked away by a mysterious, dancing stranger who offers more than just a meaningless hand.

You pretend the blonde is to be a grand lover, one who will care for you beyond material needs. Beyond what is expected and a bore.

You pretend, and when the song ends — so does each and every one of your mindless fantasies.

To normality once again…

[spicy30]

Modernness of 1400s 008

Pairing: HOTD x Fem!Modern!Reader

(Repost with extra things added at the end)

Extra: The reader is noted to be bilingual (Spanish speaking) and is familiar with the majority of Latin-based languages, No use of Y/N

Rating: 18+ (Smut towards the end)

Not proofread

Tags: @fan-goddess @meowmeowmothermeower @bunxia @your-favorite-god @coolalienstatesmansports @georgiatesulitsyeykite @qwerrtsworld @wegottastayfocus @dakota-rain666 @talilosha @the-deep-dark-abyss @101crows @agustdeeyaa @ggglich-exe @illjhhlisa @deepeststarlightmoon @cluelessteam @a-fruity-snack @i-zenin @justablondeeee @feyresqueen @yduimobsessed @pinkluv29 @xmenteria @itwaszzmoon

WC: 13.7k

You smiled faintly as you sat on the bed sipping your lemon tea, watching Jacaerys read the paper in his hands. But the smile quickly faded as his expression darkened, his displeasure palpable.

“You would dare insinuate such a thing about me?” His voice was sharp, laced with anger.

Well, it made sense. No one liked being called a bastard or having uncomfortable truths thrust in their face.

“Your tongue could be cut off for this if anyone were to see it,” he said, crumpling the paper in his fist. His glare cut through you like a blade. “Daemon cut off the head of the last man who dared speak this of my siblings and I.”

You held out your hand, silently asking for the paper back, but he ignored your gesture. Instead, he turned and tossed it into the fire. You sighed, leaning back on the bed, watching the parchment curl and blacken as the flames consumed it.

“I am no bastard,” Jacaerys declared, his voice heavy with conviction. “I will be King of Seven Kingdoms one day.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

You sighed as the door slammed shut behind Jacaerys, his anger reverberating through the walls like an echo of a storm. You’d expected resistance, perhaps some pushback—but not this. He wasn’t just upset; he was wounded, his pride cut to the quick by what he’d read.

“Well, that went well,” you muttered under your breath, glancing at the fire where the crumpled paper now curled and blackened in the flames.

You hadn’t meant to offend him, but it was clear your words had struck too close to home. Perhaps you’d miscalculated, underestimated how deeply the whispers of bastardy weighed on him. You had hoped to appeal to his pragmatic side—to make him see the value in your endeavor, in the power of investing in the commons. Instead, you’d touched a nerve, and now your plans to roll into making headlines were as ashes as the paper he had burned.

Lying back on the bed, you stared at the ceiling, frustration bubbling under your skin. This was a crucial step to it all. Not only would this plan elevate your standing but his as well and after a while once you’ve made enough money from your Miswak business then you’d release the first newspaper. The idea of starting a newspaper had seemed brilliant—a way to not only disseminate knowledge but to secure your own position, perhaps even sway public opinion. But without the proper momentum, it was little more than a pipe dream.

You frowned, replaying the conversation in your mind. Jacaerys’ reaction wasn’t just anger—it was fear. Fear of losing legitimacy, of being reduced to the whispers that haunted his lineage. Perhaps there was another way to approach him, a way to channel that fear into something productive.

Or maybe you needed to reconsider your approach entirely.

With a groan, you sat up and reached for another scrap of parchment. If one plan had burned to ashes, you’d simply write another.

As you dipped the quill into the ink, your mind raced, crafting a new strategy to salvage your ambitions. You would make this happen, whether Jacaerys liked it or not. You had the power to not only dispel the whispers of his supposed bastardy but to elevate him in the eyes of the public. All he needed to do was play the part—charity work, good deeds, the sort of gestures that swayed hearts and silenced doubts. It wasn’t as if you had outright called him a bastard. You had merely hinted at the fact that many questioned his parentage.

The quill hovered over the blank parchment as hesitation crept in. Perhaps appealing to his pride had been the wrong approach. Jacaerys carried the weight of his mother’s legacy and the crown’s fragile legitimacy on his shoulders. Reminding him of those vulnerabilities had backfired spectacularly. 

You leaned back, sighing softly. Rhaenyra was far beyond your reach—her image, tarnished as it was in the eyes of many, would take years to repair. Years you weren’t sure you had. But Jacaerys? With him, there was time. 

Your connection with Jacaerys, tenuous yet genuine, was the strongest bond you had in this foreign and unforgiving world. By chance—or perhaps fate—he was the only one who truly knew where you had come from. That trust, fragile as it was, couldn’t be squandered. Not if he was destined to sit the Iron Throne.

You sighed again, setting the quill down without writing a single word. Instead, you rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the tension that had built there. Every idea, every alliance, felt like a gamble with stakes higher than you’d ever faced. But that was the game, wasn’t it? Survival, ambition, power—they demanded risks, demanded precision.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

“Enter,” you called, your voice steady despite the weariness that weighed on you.

The door creaked open, revealing a servant carrying a tray with a small meal and a goblet of wine.

“Prince Aemond sends his regards,” the servant announced, setting the tray down on the table. “He hopes you will be well enough to join him in Aegon’s Garden later this evening.”

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. You hadn’t seen Aemond since waking—what had it been? An hour ago? Maybe more. Time blurred when you were preoccupied with conserving energy and dealing with Jacaerys.

“Thank you,” you replied, glancing at the tray but feeling no appetite. “You may take the meal. I’m not hungry. Bring me a bowl instead, and the drink I requested earlier—with mint leaves, please.”

The servant hesitated for a moment, bowing before gathering the untouched tray.

As the door closed behind them, you stared at the flickering flames of the hearth. Aemond’s invitation hung in your mind. Why now? Was he scheming, as he so often did, or was this genuine concern? With Aemond, it was always hard to tell. But whatever his motive, you couldn’t afford to ignore the opportunity. Every move counted, and every player in this game could be a piece—or a threat.

You looked over to the deep purple dress draped neatly over a chair for when you felt well enough to wear it.

A gift from Dragon Stone or that's what Jacaerys said anyways when he gave it to you. 

You looked down, relishing the freshness you felt. You had been bathed in warm water, changed out of your nightgown into a fresh one, and now sat on the bed.

Yet, despite all this, it would not make up for the fact that your toothpaste and your toothbrush were still in King’s Landing. It was fine—you made do by swirling wine in your mouth as a makeshift rinse and chewing on mint leaves for freshness. For hydration, you had your electrolyte drink, but for now, the warm lemon tea in your hands was enough, its soothing tang chasing away the bitter taste lingering on your tongue.

You were feeling better. The weakness in your legs persisted, but other than that, you were fine—or close to it. Still, the bed felt uncomfortable beneath you. Your leg bounced restlessly, as though your body rebelled against stillness. There was a gnawing pressure on your chest, a nagging sense that you should be doing something. It felt akin to the dread of an overdue assignment or the guilt of idleness in the face of obligation. Simply lying there felt... wrong.

With a sigh, you picked up the quill again, determined to turn this restless energy into something productive. But before the tip could touch parchment, the door creaked open. Instinctively, you set the quill down as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. (Which, in all fairness, you had.)

It was the maid from before, carrying your requested items. You thanked her, dismissing her with a polite nod. Once the door clicked shut behind her, you set the quill and parchment aside, rising from the bed to stretch. Your legs protested slightly, sore but functional. Testing your balance, you took a few tentative steps before making your way to the table.

Grasping the wine goblet, you took a mouthful, swishing it around before spitting it into the bowl the maid had brought. The sharp tang of the wine lingered briefly before you repeated the process once more. Satisfied, you set the goblet down and reached for the one containing your electrolyte drink. The sweet, salty flavor slid down your throat, a welcome balm to your fatigue.

Once finished, you returned to the wine goblet, repeating your makeshift cleansing ritual until the vessel was empty. Finally, you sank back into the bed, cradling your warm lemon tea. Its soothing warmth eased the last remnants of discomfort as you chewed on the mint leaves, savoring their cool freshness.

You tested your voice, speaking softly to gauge its steadiness. It came out rough, but you felt refreshed enough. It would have to do. Your gaze shifted to the dress hanging on the chair, and you weighed your options—stay here in your room, feigning rest, or muster the strength to get moving again.

The decision wasn’t an easy one. Staying in bed meant avoiding any further strain on your still-recovering body, but it also meant stagnation—and you hated feeling idle. On the other hand, getting up and dressed meant facing the world, the people, and their expectations, all of which felt daunting in your current state.

You let out a small sigh, running your fingers through your hair. The pressure on your chest hadn’t lifted. If anything, it intensified with the thought of staying put. You didn’t have the luxury of time or inaction. You had plans to set in motion, alliances to strengthen, and a reputation to build.

Your hand lingered on the fabric of the purple dress as you finally stood, testing the weight of your legs beneath you. They trembled slightly, but held steady enough. “One step at a time,” you muttered to yourself, pulling the dress off the chair.

The rich fabric felt heavy in your hands, but it's regal hue gave you a small sense of determination. Dressing wasn’t quick—your movements were sluggish, and your limbs protested with every stretch and pull—but eventually, you managed to fasten the last clasp. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. You looked pale, but presentable. That would have to suffice.

You walked to the door, resting your hand on the handle. For a moment, you hesitated. Would they see through you, sense your exhaustion beneath the polished exterior? Shaking the thought away, you straightened your spine. Let them. You would have to endure worse than this.

Pulling the door open, you stepped into the corridor. The faint sound of activity echoed through the halls, servants bustling about their duties. You paused for a moment, deciding your destination. Aegon’s Garden, as per Aemond’s invitation? Or perhaps you could seek out Jacaerys again, try a softer approach this time?

Your steps carried you forward before you’d fully decided, the chill of the stone floor beneath your feet grounding you as you made your way.

As you moved through the corridors, you noticed the occasional servant pause to glance your way. Their eyes darted toward your dress, your hair, the faint pallor in your cheeks. You met their gazes with a calm, steady expression, your head held high despite the weight pressing on your chest. You couldn’t afford to look weak, even if every step felt heavier than the last.

By the time you reached the courtyard that led to Aegon’s Garden, the chill of the air nipped at your skin. You hesitated, clutching the edge of your dress as a gust of wind teased at the fabric. The garden lay ahead, its labyrinthine pathways lined with flowers and in the center of it all an obelisk. You lifted a brow looking at it before humming and walking the path. Aemond’s figure was unmistakable, standing near a stone bench with his hands clasped behind his back. He was waiting for you.

You took a deep breath, straightening your posture as you approached. The sound of your footsteps on the stone path drew his attention, and he turned, his single eye sharp and calculating as it swept over you. He said nothing at first, his gaze lingering just long enough to make your skin prickle.

“You look better,” Aemond finally said, his tone neutral, though there was a faint trace of amusement in his voice. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show.”

The wind nipped at your skin, making you shiver as you crossed your arms. "Yeah, me neither," you muttered, shaking your head. "You didn’t think to meet somewhere inside?”

“I like the wind,” Aemond replied, his tone laced with a small jest. His lips twitched as if holding back a smirk. You rolled your eyes and sat down on the cold stone bench, wincing slightly as the chill seeped through your dress.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment. You let your gaze wander across the garden, there were large columns all around and grand statues of Dragons. It looked so familiar yet so different. You couldn’t place it but you swear you had seen something like this before. 

“I saw my nephew leaving your room,” Aemond said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was calm, measured. “He looked… irate.”

You turned to him, your mind scrambling for a response. What could you say that wouldn’t give too much away? After a brief pause, you shrugged. “A petty argument.”

That was technically true. Of course, the matter had been far more than petty, but Aemond didn’t need to know the intricacies of your interactions with Jacaerys.

“About?” he pressed, his curiosity sharp, probing.

You tilted your head, giving him a side-eye. “Curious, are we? You know, curiosity killed the cat.”

Aemond’s brow arched slightly, and he gave a faint scoff. “Your sayings need refinement if you ever intend to pass yourself off as a scholar.”

“Oh, alright then,” you retorted with mock indignation, turning your body to face him fully, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “How about this one: ‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’” Nothing like a good bit of Shakespeare, even if he wasn’t considered a philosopher.

Aemond coughed, but you weren’t fooled. The cough was covering a laugh, and you couldn’t help but grin at his reaction.

“No? It doesn’t work?” you teased, leaning forward just slightly.

He met your gaze, one brow raised in that familiar, almost condescending way of his. “It’s not the worst,” he admitted, though his tone was begrudging.

You laughed softly, the sound light and unguarded. “Well, then. Best to write it down before it’s lost to time. I’ll even autograph it for you. That way, when I’m hailed as the greatest scholar this world has ever seen, you can boast to your future children that you have an original work of mine.”

Aemond’s lips twitched again, this time leaning closer to a smile. “Ambitious, aren’t we?”

“Always,” you quipped, lifting your chin slightly. “But then, isn’t ambition what makes life interesting?”

Aemond’s eye gleamed with something unreadable, a mixture of intrigue and quiet approval. “I thought you said danger made life interesting, which is it?”

You turned away from him tapping your lip. “Both.” He breathed out a small laugh. 

Once more, a quiet silence settled over you both, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. You glanced at Aemond, only to find him lost in thought, his eye fixed on the distance.

Suddenly, a daunting realization struck you, and your eyes widened in horror. “Oh my goodness!” you gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

Aemond turned his attention to you, a faint crease forming between his brows. “What is it?” he asked, his tone cautious but curious.

You let your hand drop, shaking your head as a disbelieving smile tugged at your lips. “You know what I just remembered?”

He hummed lightly, a sign he was listening, though he gave no indication of guessing.

As if this day couldn’t get any worse. You let out a short, humorless laugh before looking at him. “Your mother is supposed to take me to the Sept today to meet a septon.”

Aemond tilted his head slightly, an amused glint in his eye. “Has my mother roped you into the Faith? I must admit, I did not take you for one to be swayed so easily.”

“This… this is just perfect.” You threw your hands up in mock celebration, the gesture stiff and exasperated. “Mistake after mistake. God, what is she going to think of me? She already turned her shoulder to me when those rumors went around.”

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound low and dry as he leaned back on the bench, resting one arm along the backrest. “They’re not rumors if it really happened,” he said, his tone laced with mild amusement.

Your jaw dropped, and you turned toward him, pointing an accusatory finger. “Excuse me? That is not the point here! And in any case you’re not helping. Goodness gracious, what is she going to think when I arrive back at King's Landing with the very son she thinks I slept with!?”

“We did.” Aemond offered no help. 

“Stop!” You stood abruptly, brushing past Aemond. Your cheeks burned, but you ignored the heat, pushing it down as best you could.

“To King’s Landing, then?” you asked, turning to face him with a composed expression. “If you would be so kind.” 

Aemond gave a small nod and rose to join you. The two of you walked through the halls of Dragonstone, the air heavy with the scent of stone and sea. The architecture here was starkly different from that of the Red Keep. It captivated you—the use of arches, intricate and advanced, drew your attention most. While the Red Keep was impressive, Dragonstone’s arches were a feat of engineering you hadn’t seen before.

Columns stood tall, carved into the forms of dragons and other mythical beings. Every corner seemed alive with artistic expression: mosaics depicting Valyrian legends, frescoes painted in rich hues, and relief carvings that told stories you could only guess at.

“Who made this place?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence as your gaze swept over the intricate designs.

“It was a Valyrian stronghold long before House Targaryen settled here,” Aemond replied evenly, his eyes following yours. “It has stood for centuries. The name of its creator has been lost to time.”

You hummed thoughtfully, running your fingers lightly over the edge of a carved column. “I see. That explains it.”

Aemond glanced at you, curiosity flickering in his expression. “Explain what?”

“I’ve never seen architecture like this in King’s Landing,” you said, your voice tinged with admiration. “The Red Keep has its carvings, sure, but nothing close to this scale or intricacy. It reminds me of…” You trailed off, your mind reaching for the right words.

Roman architecture came to mind—grandeur mixed with purpose. But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

As you turned a corner, your gaze caught on a large sphinx adorning the entrance to what could only be the Great Hall. Its imposing presence made you stop in your tracks.

“The Gift of the Nile…” you murmured to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips before you turned to Aemond. “Can we go to Old Valyria?”

He lifted a brow, clearly surprised by your request.

“I’d like to see more architecture like this,” you explained, gesturing to the intricate carvings. “And maybe—just maybe—they had advanced systems, like waterworks, that could help me…” You stopped yourself, not wanting to sound too eager.

Aemond’s response was immediate. “No.”

Your face fell. “Oh. Why not?”

“It’s forbidden,” he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Why?”

“The death of Princess Aerea Targaryen,” he replied.

“Who’s that?” you asked, genuinely intrigued.

Aemond stopped walking, his expression darkening slightly as he considered his next words. “Aerea was a Targaryen princess who claimed Balerion the Black Dread and flew to Old Valyria. When she returned, she was…” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “She brought something back with her. Something that killed her in the most gruesome way imaginable.”

You frowned, your mind racing with questions. “What did she bring back?”

“No one knows for certain,” Aemond said, his tone sharper now. “But whatever it was, it was enough to deem Old Valyria cursed. No one who ventures there returns and by law, anyone who attempts will be executed.”

You bit your lip, looking back at the sphinx and the grandeur around you. If Old Valyria held answers, it was clear those answers would remain just out of reach.

Afterwards you walked in silence with him. It was a shame they didn’t build a water system inside Dragon Stone, but then you’d suppose you wouldn't have to create one. You tried not to feel too dejected, but it was a shame. What a marvel it would be to see the place or origins for Dragons and the place with this kind of architecture.

As both you and Aemond walked a door opened and out came the younger brother…Lu—something. You were horrible with names, and then an even younger brother followed. This one is unfamiliar to you. 

“Nephews.” Aemond greeted curtly. It was clear he did not hold fond feelings for them, if the first night you saw them together wasn’t enough to confirm then this sure is. Aemond did not hold back the crude look in his eye, not even for the little one. 

“Uncle.” The oldest one responded, holding his little brother behind him. 

If it wasn’t for the situation you’d be smiling at the act. How cute. 

“My Lady.” The older brother nodded in your direction and you smiled back. 

“My Prince?” Was that the proper title to use?

“Lucerys.” He quickly added. 

“No I knew that, I was just wondering if that’s the proper title.” Had to make a quick save. It was rude to not remember people. You smiled and looked down at the little boy. “And who is this?” You bent down to his level looking at him. 

He—no Lucerys— gave a flat smile. “My younger brother Joffrey.”

You looked towards Joffrey. “How cute. Hello.” 

The young boy only gave you a look before looking up towards his big brother. You breathed out a smile before standing up straight once more.  

“I presume you leave back to King’s Landing?” Lucerys questioned you and your eyes looked back towards him. You’d call him preceptive but it doesn’t take a genius to know you and Aemond were leaving. 

You nodded. “Yes, thank you for the hospitality and the dress. It was very kind of you.” 

“T’was the courtesy of my older brother. DragonStone welcomes you.” Lucerys responded. It was very diplomatic in the way he spoke. It was strange seeing a boy of his age speak so formally. You felt as if your own vocabulary wasn’t enough. 

“Oh, yes, Prince Jacaerys. He is very kind. Where is he, may I ask? I’d like to bid him a farewell before I leave. It will be quite some time before I see him or you again.” If things went the way you predicted, you wouldn’t see them until Rhaenrya’s coronation, which you hoped was a ways away.

“He is in the middle of a lesson with our Maester.” A shame. You needed to apologize but if you pressed you were sure to lift some brows. In any case you needed to return to King’s Landing. A nervous feeling settled in your stomach imagining Alicent’s reaction.   

“I see. Well please give him my regards and many thanks for the dress.” You nodded and left with Aemond. The walk down the stairs was silent like most of your moments with Aemond. You looked out to the sea and relished the breeze even if it did chill you. Realistically this would be the last time you’d be on Dragonstone. God you wanted to live here, even if you did get sick here. The fresh air was worth it.

After another thirty minutes of you trying to get onto Vhagar both you and Aemond were flying back to King’s Landing. The ride was silent. You felt awkward just sitting there hanging onto him. 

“Tell me how you claimed Vhagar?” If there was one thing all men loved, it was to talk about themselves. Aemond seemed particularly prideful about his house and of course his dragon. Though what you really wanted to ask was what happened to his eye, but of course because you were raised with manners you didn’t ask.

You felt him inhale deeply before exhaling. “I was ten. I went to the funeral of my aunt Laena.” You pursed your lips. Now where had you heard that name? Goodness, you really needed to start trying to learn people’s names. 

“Aegon and my nephews made jests about how I did not have a dragon. They went as far as to find a pig and give it wings.” You exhaled slowly trying not to laugh. When pigs fly is a common saying. They basically told him he'll get a dragon when pigs fly. That was funny. Though you supposed it evened out. Aemond now rides the largest dragon. “When my aunt passed I took the opportunity and claimed her. I flew her that night and nearly fell off.” You looked towards the side imagining flying a dragon by yourself. 

No way. You would definitely fall off. 

“My cousins, Baela and Rhaena felt robbed. Rhaena to date still has no dragon and wanted to claim her mother’s dragon.” Oh. It was in the conversation you had with Jacaerys. Laena was their mother. You lifted a brow, not that he could see it, but essentially he stole an heirloom. 

If that happened to you, you’d fight with him. Not even a full year of your mother passing and you stole my dragon!? Yeah, you’re just asking for a beating.

“I fought off my cousins and nephews. I lost my eye that night.” Woah! Two for one. The tale of how he claimed Vhagar and how he lost his eye. Nice. “Lucerys cut me across my face and now I lack an eye.” 

Well now it made sense. His curtness towards Lucerys and the little one…Joffrey? Well in all honesty you would’ve done the same. Maybe not cut out the man’s eye, but definitely would’ve given him a good beating.

“All because you claimed Vhagar?” Somewhat justified in your eyes, but right now in the air, you need to cater to this man as much as possible. You had no idea what he was thinking half the time. 

Aemond nodded and you hummed. 

“Would you have done it?” He questioned and thought about it.

“Truthfully?” Aemond nodded and you looked off to the white fluffy clouds. “Yeah. I probably wouldn’t have taken your eye, that was excessive, but you would’ve had your arse handed to you, because what do you mean you stole my mother’s dragon? I would've been mad as hell.” You shrugged, hugging him tighter as Vhagar shifted. 

“A dragon chooses their rider. Vhagar chose me.” You felt Aemond tense under you. Clearly this was something that still affected him today.

“Well yeah, but I mean, the week of the funeral. Way harsh, no?” You looked over his shoulder to look at him, occasionally closing your eyes as his hair blew into them.  

“I saw an opportunity and I took it.” Aemond looked over before looking forward again.  

“Well you can’t argue with that I guess.” He did have a point. You suppose if you were desperate enough to prove yourself, you’d take any opportunity you’d have.

As King's Landing came into full view, you leaned forward with a hopeful glance at Aemond.

“Can you drop me off directly at the Keep? I’d really rather not go through the streets.”

“No.”

“Wha-!?” You gawked at him, incredulous. “What if I catch some horrible disease and die? That’d be my blood on your hands!”

“How tragic,” he replied dryly, not even sparing you a glance.

You huffed, and leaned to look at him over his shoulder. “Fine. Then can you at least take the blame for this? The queen might actually call for my head.”

“No.”

You gave a sigh of frustration. “You’re insufferable.” Your grip around his waist loosened. “What if just kill myself right now? Drop me off Vhagar.” 

Aemond’s head snapped toward you, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “Because I refused to fly you straight to the Red Keep and shield you from my mother’s wrath when it was you who got sick, begged me to take you to Dragonstone, and then decided to swim in the sea, catching a fever and prolonging our stay?”

“Yes,” you replied simply, fighting back a grin as you teasingly loosened your hold, feigning a dramatic gesture of letting go.

Aemond sighed, his eyes narrowing in a mix of annoyance and begrudging amusement. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, unable to hide the victorious smile that spread across your face.

Vhagar landed gracefully atop Aegon’s Hill, her massive claws gripping the stone with practiced ease. You slid off her saddle and onto the top wall of the Red Keep, your boots meeting the solid surface with a soft thud. The wind tugged at your hair and clothes, and you took a moment to steady yourself, glancing down at the sprawling city below.

“Grateful yet?” Aemond asked as he dismounted, his tone tinged with dry humor.

“Ecstatic,” you replied sarcastically, brushing nonexistent dust off your sleeves as you turned toward him. “Though I’m fairly certain your mother will find a reason to scold me for arriving this way.”

Aemond smirked, unbothered. “If my mother knew half the things you’d done recently, she’d have more than just scolding in mind.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your cloak. “Well, we’d better not keep her waiting. Lead the way, oh noble escort.”

Aemond arched a brow but said nothing, motioning for you to follow as he began descending the narrow stone staircase leading into the Keep.

The hallways inside the Red Keep were a stark contrast to the airy heights you’d just left. Shadows danced along the walls, illuminated by the flickering glow of torches. Servants scurried past, casting curious glances in your direction but keeping their heads low.

“You’d think by now they’d be used to seeing me, it's been like two months, near three,” you murmured, catching a maid’s startled gaze before she quickly looked away.

“They’re not accustomed to guests who arrive atop dragons and make a habit of disrupting court life,” Aemond quipped, his steps steady and purposeful.

You shot him a sidelong glance but chose not to respond, instead focusing on the task ahead. The weight of your pending audience with the Queen sat heavily in your chest, and you couldn’t shake the nagging worry about what awaited you.

As you approached the familiar double doors of the Queen’s private chambers, you paused, looking at Aemond. “Should I start with an apology or wait until she accuses me of something first?”

“Start with silence,” Aemond replied with a smirk, stepping forward to knock on the door. “That is what Aegon does.” 

“I’m not Aegon. That's her son, and I don’t go around screwing anyone I see or from what I’ve heard.” You looked up towards Aemond who had a knowing look and a raised brow. “Okay it was one time and, by technicality, there was no ‘screwing’” You put air quotation marks around screwing. Did he know what those meant?

“My mother will not see it as such and neither will the Seven.” There was a mocking undertone and your top lip lifted in slight annoyance and disgust. 

“Thanks for the reminder, Your Grace,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll be sure to add it to the list of things I’ll repent for in my nonexistent confession to the Seven.”

Aemond’s lips twitched, though whether it was amusement or exasperation, you couldn’t tell. “You could try feigning humility. It might soften her glare.”

You folded your arms, leaning against the cool stone wall. “Humility doesn’t suit me. It does not befit the greatest scholar that ever was and ever will be.”

Before Aemond could respond, the door creaked open, revealing Ser Criston Cole standing guard just inside. His sharp gaze swept over you and then to Aemond before he gave a slight nod. “The Queen had looked for you for some time My Lady” 

Ser Criston always looked at you as if he had some problem with you. Well if you had to take an oath of celibacy, you’d think you’d be a little grumpy too. Sex depravity is a horrid thing, especially once you’ve had it. You looked over Ser Criston with a small smile. A good looking man. No way he was a virgin. He had to miss the action. Probably the reason he was such a stick in the mud.

“Her grace is in her chambers. I’m sure she will be pleased to see you.” He spoke but it was clear his attention was on your companion. 

“Lovely,” you muttered under your breath, straightening up and smoothing down your cloak as Aemond motioned for you to enter first.

Inside, Queen Alicent sat near a roaring fire, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her expression was calm but guarded, the same look she always wore when addressing someone she didn’t entirely trust—or perhaps someone who constantly tested her patience.

“Your Grace,” you greeted with a small curtsy, inwardly cringing at how stiff it felt.

Alicent’s eyes flicked to Aemond briefly before settling on you. “You’ve been absent for some time,” she began, her tone measured. “I trust you have an explanation.”

You opened your mouth, but Aemond cut in smoothly, stepping to your side. “It was my doing, Mother. I took her to Dragonstone.”

Oh thank god.

Alicent’s brow arched ever so slightly as she looked between the two of you. “To Dragonstone? For what purpose?”

“Rest and recovery,” Aemond replied. “She fell ill during her stay and required quieter surroundings.”

You glanced at him, thanking him ten times over in your head. Alicent’s expression softened just enough to make you think she might buy it—or at least not press further.

“And are you well now?” Alicent asked, turning her focus back to you.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you replied swiftly, forcing a polite smile as you suppressed the nerves bubbling under your skin.

A tense silence hung in the room as Alicent gestured to the chairs by the fire. “Sit. We have much to discuss.” Her eyes shifted momentarily toward Aemond, her meaning clear. “Aemond, you may go now.”

You glanced at him, searching his face for any sign of resistance. Instead, Aemond offered a subtle sigh, his lips pressing into a thin line before he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The heavy thud of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in your chest.

As you took a seat by the fire, Alicent’s unwavering gaze pinned you in place. Her expression was stern, her composure sharp as a blade. Whatever this was about, it was clear you were in for more than a casual conversation.

“Your Grace,” you began, hoping your voice didn’t betray the apprehension building inside you.

“The results,” Alicent interrupted, her tone curt. “I want them. I have extended your time nearly double what was promised.”

The weight of her demand pressed on you like a stone, and despite yourself, you flinched slightly under her intense gaze. Your heart pounded as the tension in the room thickened.

“Of course,” you managed, your voice steady enough to sound convincing. “I finished them before I fell ill. Shall I fetch them?”

Alicent’s lips thinned, her expression a mixture of patience and scrutiny. “Yes. And make it swift. I will not wait any longer.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” you murmured, standing from your seat with a small bow. You moved toward the door with measured steps, conscious of Alicent’s sharp eyes following your every movement.

As soon as you stepped out and the door clicked shut behind you, you allowed yourself a small, shaky breath while you placed your hand over your chest feeling your heartbeat. The tension in the room had been stifling, and you felt as though you’d been holding your breath the entire time.

“I’m gonna have a heart attack.” You murmured to yourself. From the corner of your eye you saw Ser Criston Cole. He was looking at you from the corner of his eye. You stood up straight and for a brief and awkward moment you were both left there looking at each other, before you cleared your throat and excused yourself.

Your mind raced as you walked down the hall, your footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floors. The results. They were complete, yes, but presenting them to Alicent meant more than just handing over neatly written lines on parchment. The stakes were higher than ever. If anyone found out you lied on those reports, it was your head.

Of course there was also the possibility that she wouldn’t like what you had to say and it would be your head either way. 

Oh god. You were going to die. Not even King Viserys would save you, even if you were keeping him alive, if he found out you were testing the validity of his grandchildren, he would probably have you burned alive or something. 

Worse! What if he sentenced you to one of those horrible medieval torture decvices you’ve heard so much about. Death by boiling would be crazy.

Not to mention Alicent already wasn’t happy. She had extended your time, yes, but it was not an act of kindness—it was a test of patience. A queen’s patience was not something to trifle with, and you knew you were on thin ice.

You felt like crying, you were so scared. You had so much to live for! You can’t die! 

You reached your chambers, your heart still thudding with a mix of anxiety and determination. As you entered, your eyes immediately found the bundle of parchment resting on your desk. The hours you’d poured into writing and revising the report played through your mind like a film reel. Every decision you’d made—every word choice, every phrasing—suddenly felt like it could make or break you.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the papers, your thoughts spiraling. What if she found you were lying? What if she dismissed your work entirely, calling it unfit or, worse, a waste of her time?

No. You shook your head, taking a steadying breath. This wasn’t the time for self-doubt. You had poured everything into this, and you knew the work was good. It had to be.

You straightened the papers, smoothing them with the flat of your hand before pressing them to your chest. As you turned back toward the door, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your reflection looked pale, tired, but resolute.

With a final deep breath, you stepped back into the hall and began the walk to the queen’s chamber. This time, your steps were steadier, your grip on the papers firm. You were scared, so damn scared because this could actually be your last day here, or anywhere! However, you knew this was necessary. You cannot be the best there ever was if you take no risks. If this was a test, you would meet it head-on. You had no other choice.

As you reached the door and suddenly you froze. You clasped your hands and looked up. “Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please. Please let me come out of this alive.” You shut your eyes trying to pray harder. “If I’m still alive by the time this is over, I swear anything I ever accomplish will be in the name of humanity…” You paused thinking. “And not just for myself.” 

You opened your eyes exhaling before you looked over to see Ser Criston Cole giving you a very judgmental look. You gave a half-hearted smile like she didn’t just witness you begging for your life to be spared. Finally summoning all your courage you knocked on the door and put on a soft smile. A sense of resolve settled over you. Whatever awaited you inside, you would face it with as much poise as you could muster. When Alicent’s voice called for you to enter, you pushed the door open, papers in hand, and met her gaze with a calm, composed expression.

Suddenly you felt dread come over you as Otto turned to face you. You bowed begging in your head. “Lord hand.” 

Otto’s sharp eyes scrutinized you like a hawk appraising its prey. You stood there, trying not to wilt under the weight of his presence, your fingers tightening slightly around the parchments as if they were a lifeline.

“Lady—” he paused, clearly searching for your name, or perhaps choosing not to use it, “I trust the results you carry are worth the extended time granted by Her Grace.”

“Of course, Lord Hand,” you replied, keeping your voice steady despite the rising dread clawing at your chest. “I assure you, the work has been thorough.”

Alicent, seated gracefully by the fire, gestured toward the chairs. “Sit,” she commanded.

You hesitated only a moment before obeying, lowering yourself carefully into the seat. Otto remained standing, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the room, while Alicent’s measured gaze never left your face.

“I hope you understand,” Alicent began, her tone cool but laced with an edge, “that this task was not a mere courtesy. The truth, no matter how unpleasant, is paramount.”

You nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Grace. I understand completely.”

Otto stepped closer, his boots echoing ominously against the stone floor. “Then let us waste no more time. Present your findings.”

Your hands trembled ever so slightly as you extended the parchments, and you cursed yourself for showing even a flicker of weakness. Alicent took them without a word, her expression inscrutable as she began to read.

The silence that followed was excruciating. You fought to keep your breathing even, your mind racing through every possible scenario. Would Alicent be relieved? Angry? Would Otto see through the careful lies woven into your report and call you out on them?

Your thoughts spiraled further into paranoia. What if they both knew? What if this entire meeting was a trap, and guards were waiting just outside the door for Otto’s command to drag you to the dungeons?

Had you not been fearing for your life, you might have noticed the confusion flickering across Alicent and Otto’s faces. Had you been calmer, you might have realized they had little choice but to accept your results. Had you been thinking clearly, you would have understood that the greatest danger was simply that they might not like your findings—something you already suspected.

“Explain your findings thoroughly,” Otto demanded, his voice cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

Your mind stuttered to a halt. “I’m sorry?”

“Explain,” he repeated, his tone cool and precise, “how exactly you arrived at this conclusion. Elaborate on your methodology and the mechanics of the equation you used to ensure the accuracy of your results.”

“Oh, right. Well…” Your mind scrambled for composure, and you began to speak quickly, the words spilling out as if sheer volume could mask your nerves. “A Punnett square operates as a combinatorial matrix designed to elucidate the probabilistic genotypic and phenotypic outcomes of sexual reproduction by modeling the allelic interplay of parental gametes. This construct, named after the eminent geneticist Reginald Punnett, serves as a heuristic device for demystifying the stochastic distribution of hereditary units, otherwise known as alleles.”

You barely paused for breath before diving deeper. “This, of course, extends from Gregor Mendel’s foundational principles of inheritance. Mendelian genetics provides the framework by which—”

“Enough.” Otto’s interruption was calm but firm, and you instantly snapped your mouth shut, cheeks burning as you realized you had started rambling.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could feel the weight of her scrutiny. “You are confident in these results?” she asked quietly, but there was an edge to her tone that made your stomach twist.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you replied, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “The methodology is sound, and I am certain of the outcome.”

You hoped they wouldn’t notice how tightly you clutched the edges of the parchment or how your knuckles had turned white. You had no choice but to double down and hope for the best.

Both Alicent and Otto looked towards each other, a thousand words exchanged between the both of them in a single look. “The Citadel hosts the best scholars in Westeros. I’d like to have your work transferred. This of course could be a grand opportunity for you. No other woman has been granted such a thing. A word from the Hand and Queen and of course from the head of House Hightower, the Citadel would make an exception.” 

They wanted to check your work. You were in a dilemma. There was a chance that you were being offered could boost you forward. Make a name for yourself now…but risk throwing away everything else, or stand your ground and trust your play in the long run would pay off.

“I can’t. It’s not possible.” You chose to stick to your guns. Hopefully it would yield its proper reward. “Forgive me but…your technology is not advanced enough. For any more accurate findings, testing blood for example…the technology does not exist yet.”

“Yet you can definitively say that these results are accurate.”

“With all due respect, Lord Hand. I have extensive schooling in this matter.” Debatable, but you certainly had way more than they did. “You do not possess the mathematical formulas, or as I said, blood testing. The phenotypic possibilities alone took me days to narrow. I have checked my work and…” You inhaled standing up straight and puffing your chest out a bit. You wanted to echo confidence, even if you didn’t feel it.

Fake it till you make it.

“Regardless of what you want to hear, the children of Crown Princess Rhaenrya fathered by her lawful husband; Laenor Valyeron, are legitimate. I wish I could give you the results you want, and rest assured the deed my Queen, Alicent has done for me, I swear it to you, will never be forgotten. I am at your service, but you asked for the truth, and now I will deliver it.” Alicent looked towards you with a cold gaze echoing her father. 

Gods, you were so dead.

Alicent let out a sigh, her expression unreadable, and waved you off with a dismissive gesture. You didn’t wait for her to change her mind, quickly making yourself scarce. As you stepped out, the weight of the ordeal seemed to hit you all at once. Your legs felt like they might give out beneath you, and you leaned against the closed door for support. Tilting your head back, you mouthed a silent “thank you” to whatever divine force had decided to spare you—for now.

You began the walk to your chambers, craving nothing more than some well-earned rest. Every step felt heavier, exhaustion threatening to drag you down. But just as your sanctuary came into view, a voice called your name.

So close… yet so far.

“King Viserys requests your presence,” the messenger announced, their tone formal but clipped.

You froze, your temper dangerously close to slipping. A wave of heat surged through you, your hand twitching involuntarily as frustration bubbled to the surface. “Now?”

“I would presume, my lady.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “Fine. Send for Dyana. Tell her to see to my morning needs and prepare my chambers immediately, and a bath. I smell like a dragon.”

The messenger gave a respectful nod. “Of course.”

With another sigh, you turned on your heel, setting off toward the King’s chambers. Rest would have to wait.

The King's chambers were quieter than usual, the crackling fire in the hearth providing the only sound as you entered. King Viserys, looking markedly stronger than when you'd last seen him, was sitting upright in his chair, his once-diminished face now flushed with color. His eyes still held the weariness of his age, but there was a gleam of vitality in them that hadn’t been there before.

You bowed deeply, careful not to show any surprise at his improved state. “Your Grace.”

“Come closer, child,” he said warmly, his voice much steadier than you expected. He gestured to the chair beside him, and you moved to sit, noting how much more alert he seemed than he had in weeks.

Well he was well enough to walk around now, so it made it sense. 

“Was your trip with my daughter successful?” he spoke, his gaze thoughtful. You gave a smile and nodded. “It was. I am simply waiting for the leaves to dry. It should be another three days till it is ready for recreational use.” 

He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the armrests of his chair. “Wonderfull, what benefits will it give?” 

“Uhh well in moderation: pain management, stress relief, improved sleep, appetite stimulation, muscle relaxation and spasm relief among other things. How is the drink working for you? And the lavender of course.” You did your best to use fancy words for all the side-effects one may have while being high. 

“The drink is wonderful, I feel rejuvenated and the lavender not only helps me sleep but helps me smell better as well. What is it that you use to scent yourself? You have such a distinct smell about you.” King Viserys’s eyes glinted with interest.

You smiled. “I use soaps from my native homeland and perfumes occasionally, but naturally because I have lived in such a…” You thought for a second trying to phrase it as gently as you could. “Different environment, I naturally smell very different from people here in King’s Landing or Westeros as a whole.”

“Very interesting…may I see them?” Viserys smiled slightly, a more genuine warmth in his gaze.

If only he knew that you had discovered the bastardy of his grandchildren and had you thought less, you would’ve exposed it. 

“To smell, yes, to use…no. Your skin is very sensitive. I wouldn’t want to make it worse, but I can make something similar, gentler even. Until then I would suggest if your skin bothers you, take baths in warm water mixed with breast milk. It works wonders for the skin. No soap needed. Simply lay in it for five to ten minutes. Helps repair the skin.” You smiled. Goats milk soap is always easy to make, besides you would run out of soaps from your modern world (unfortunately) and need to find a replacement.

The King’s eyebrows arched in mild surprise, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Breast milk? What babes drink?” A small, incredulous smile played across his lips.

“Yes.” you replied, standing straighter. “The human body, particularly a woman’s body, is incredible. Did you know that when breast milk mixes with a baby’s saliva it can trigger changes in the milk composition based on the baby's current immune needs, essentially signaling to the mother's body to produce more specific antibodies to fight potential infections the baby might be facing. Also baths in breast milk does wonders for the skin. It is why maesters or doctors, where I come from, recommend you bathe your baby in breast milk at least one or two days a week.” You caught the flicker of confusion in his eyes and added,“It prevents babies from getting sick is what I’m saying. A woman’s body will change the way the milk is made to better fit the needs of the baby so it survives.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, his brows furrowing thoughtfully. “Really? Where did you learn this?” 

“My home.” you said softly, your gaze drifting briefly to the window. “Our practice of medicine is far more advanced than anything here.” 

“Would you ever be able to bring those practices here?”  he asked, his tone laced with a genuine curiosity.

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “As advanced as they are from where I come from? No. I’m not educated enough to fully treat serious illnesses or perform surgery and things of the sort, but I am pretty good at basic things.”

His head tilted slightly, his expression unreadable. “Could you go back and bring this knowledge?”

Your smile faltered, and you exhaled slowly. “Well if I went home, I would mostly never return, like ever.”

“Why?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know.” You shrugged with a flat smile on your face. “I was in an accident and when I awoke, I was here. I gave up trying to go home about a month ago.” You smiled sadly looking at the ground. “I do miss my family. My old life. I wish I had gotten to study more, earn a degree.”

Viserys watched you intently, his features softening. “Sit, please,” he said gently. “Tell me more. Quite a peculiar place you come from.”

You leaned back into the chair, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “What would you like to know?”

“Women, where you’re from—are they allowed education as you are?”

“Yes.” you replied, nodding. “It is a norm to be educated. It is an unsaid social norm and if you are not, people will look down on you. In fact in recent years, women are more educated than men, they earn higher wages and because of that they no longer need to depend on a man. It is thought that because for years money is all men brought to the table they did not develop enough and now women are demanding more from them and truth is, most men can’t because emotionally, they’re nothing more than children. Women do not want to be mothers to their husbands.” 

“Really?” His voice carried a mix of fascination and skepticism. “How did this come to be?”

“Well…women gained rights,” you said simply. “Eventually after centuries of being oppressed and men believing they were the superior gender. It all came to a head and women demanded rights and equality. Women have all the same potential, maybe even more to do what men can do if given a fair chance. You’ve seen it with me, I have done the impossible, and I will continue to do so.” You straightened in your seat, determination gleaming in your eyes. “There have been hundreds of generations of women who have been put down and minimized that led to me. I must and I will amount to more. Their struggle and sacrifice for me, will not be in vain.”

The King’s expression softened further, and a faint smile curved his lips. “You have a very headstrong character. I only wish you had come sooner. My daughter, Rhaenrya, would’ve gotten along splendidly with you. She had a similar drive. Tell me…” His eyes dimmed, a shadow of grief passing over his face.  “How are births handled where you are from? If the babe is stuck as an example.” 

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “Well it depends, it can be maneuvered within the stomach so that the head faces the opening or if it requires more, then a c-section is promptly ordered.” 

“A c-section?” he echoed, leaning forward slightly.

“A cesarean delivery,” you clarified. “It’s a surgical procedure where the baby is delivered through an incision in the mother’s abdomen and uterus. It’s done when a natural birth would endanger the mother or child.”

“Does it kill the mother?”

“Not usually,” you replied. “While there are risks, they’re minimal with proper care. Most mothers recover well and can even conceive again.”

“Do the women not bleed out?”

“Excessive bleeding can happen, but it’s rare for it to be fatal,” you reassured him.

Viserys sighed deeply, his gaze distant. “I truly wish you had come sooner.”

“Yeah…” You looked down, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry.”

He straightened in his chair, the melancholy lifting slightly. “Well, in any case, I’m sure you have things to attend to. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you.” You rose but paused near the door. “May I ask something of Your Grace?”

“Of course,” he said, motioning for you to continue.

“I’d like to propose a few ideas to the council—in, say, a fortnight?”

He smiled faintly. “I see no issue with it. I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you, my King.” You curtsied before leaving, already anticipating the comfort of your bed and the luxury of brushing your teeth properly once again.

You walked down the halls. Why the King had hopped for your early arrival, you couldn’t say. You felt bad for the old man, nearly stabbed him in the back and he didn’t even know it. Old people were so cute. 

You stepped into your room seeing your set up. Sweet scents and a fan still working great. 

Suddenly you turned and you nearly crashed into something. “Oh! Jump scare.” You murmured, turning away from him. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Your chambers?” He corrected.

“Right, grammar police here.” You rolled your eyes walking towards your setup Dyana had brought. Along with your bath. Hopefully Aemond was smart enough to sneak back in without anyone seeing. “What are you doing in my chamber, your grace?” You mocked his accent while tying your hair back.  

“What did my mother want with you?” Aemond walked behind you before sitting on your bed. 

Your face contorted before you pulled him off it. “Egh! Get off my bed! Go sit on a chair like a normal person. What’s wrong with you? You smell like Vhagar.”

“As do you.” Aemond countered looking down at you and you in turn raised a brow. 

“Okay you don’t see me sitting on my bed now do you? Outside clothes never touch my bed, and they shouldn’t touch yours either. It’s unsanitary. Have some standards. A bed is a sacred space.” Aemond only gave a scoff.

“You are a dramatic woman.” Aemond spoke and you gave no answer. “What did my mother ask for?” Aemond sat on a chair watching you. 

“Some plans she asked me to make a couple weeks ago.” You said dismissively turning and getting a small soap from your suitcase, Aemond’s watchful eye never leaving you. 

“What plans?” He pressed looking at you as you washed your hands.

“Nothing too important that you need to worry about.” This man was too nosey for your liking. Always with the questions this one.

“Really? You seemed as if you were about to cry while praying to whatever gods it is you have before entering the room.” Aemond mocked it with that concerning smirk that never went away. 

“Ugh, who told you that?” You turned and smiled, wetting your toothbrush while Aemond lifted a brow. “Ooh was it that delicious looking knight? Y’know if he just kept his mouth shut he would’ve been perfect.”

“Ser Criston has taken an oath of celibacy for life.” Aemond again watching you curious as to what you were doing.

“Men can never truly uphold something like that. I bet you I can get him to break it, if he hasn;t already. But it looks like he has a big mouth, so….” You humbled picking up your toothpaste, slapping a small glob on your toothbrush before wetting the brush again. “Where’s he from anyways, he’s totally my type. Maybe I can snag myself another one.” You began brushing and foam formed in your mouth while Aemond furrowed his brows in confusion ever so slightly. 

“What is that?” He asked and you rolled your eyes. 

You spit out some of the foam. “Can’t you read? It says Crest 3d white. Fluoride anticavity toothpaste. 100% whitening. It’s what keeps my teeth so white and my mouth clean. Duh.” You continue to brush your teeth and your tongue. 

“Whitening?” He questioned standing up, picking up the toothpaste and smelling it. He pulled back a bit. Strong scent, too strong.

You spit out white foam again. “Y’know every time I go to the dentist they say I have perfect teeth, I have to keep up my streak.” Even if you are nevering going to see another dentist in your life.

Aemond simply looked at you before putting it down and picking up your mouth wash. You watched him read as you continued to brush before finally finishing. “You want to try it? It helps kill the bacteria that makes people's breath smell bad.” You smiled, some foam still in your mouth. 

You uncapped it and rinsed your mouth with it before spitting it out. You turned to him and gave a toothy grin. “See? All clean now. Okay when you do it, don’t swallow it, you might get sick or something and it might burn a bit so…just beware.” 

You gave him some and immediately you saw his face twist. You grinned and held in a laugh. “Relax! Wash it around your mouth, especially in the back.” You watched him try to keep it in before he spit it out. 

He started coughing and you giggled. “A filthy mouth you have.” You clicked your tongue in disapproval. “Alright well, get out now, I’m going to change and then I’m going to bed.” you turned around letting down your hair tossing your hair tie on your desk.  

Aemond said nothing and you raised a brow. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You turned around and suddenly he grabbed your face forcing your lips against his. His tongue swiftly entered your mouth before you pushed him off of you as you stood with wide eyes. 

“It is fresher.” It was all he said before once more kissing you. You had no time to react. He pulled away. “You are sleeping for the rest of the day, no?” 

“Well yeah, but I’ve had enough of royals for…like ever. I’m pretty sure your mother is actually trying to kill me and your grandfather.” You asked as your hands lay flat against his chest.

“Grandsire.” He corrected and you rolled your eyes. 

“Right, sorry, you’re still the grammar police.” You spoke and he only hummed, pressing a small kiss to the side of your mouth. You still didn’t know what was happening or why he was acting like this but there was that pressing fear that Alicent will indeed kill you. You already squandered a chance for her to take you to the sept, so now it was on to a new plan to avoid Alicent wrath and that plan that did NOT involve you being intimate with Aemond. 

“Stop.” You pushed him off you. “What are you doing? I’m not joking, your mother, the queen is actually out for my head and the hand will help her. I can’t do this. You are not worth my life. Listen, it was good the first time, but not ‘I will give up my life’ good.”

“Fret not, I will not allow it to happen.” He resumed kissing you and despite your earlier claims you did lean into them. What can you say? A freshly cleaned mouth and the man was a good kisser? It was game over. 

“My knight in shining armor.” You scoffed at pulling away. 

“A dragon knight. I ride the queen of dragons. I will handle my mother and grandsire.”

“That's not how the fairy tales go.” You smiled, raising a brow as he undid the laces of your dress.

“How do the fairy tales go then?” Aemond murmured into your skin as he kissed your neck. 

You giggled and pushed yourself away but his grip kept you close. “Normally the dragon takes the Princess and the knight slays the dragon, saving the Princess and they live happily ever after.”

“What if the knight is the dragon?” He nipped your skin and you sucked in a breath.

“Are you calling yourself a dragon?” A laugh lifting his head towards you while you smile.

“I am a dragon. I carry the dragon’s blood.” He murmured as he kissed you once more, tearing off your dress leaving you in small clothes. 

“So then what does that make me?” You questioned as his hands went to your hair and you began undressing him.

“The princess?” He spoke as he threw off his coat and shirt.

“I’m no Princess, I haven’t married a Prince and my father is no King. I am a scholar.” Aemond pushed you back onto the bed.

“A scholar should not need saving? Do you not need me?” He stood over you with a smug smirk.

“No. I don’t need you.” You propped yourself up on your elbows. “But having you is nice.” You dragged him down kissing him once more.  

A smirk tugged on his lips, fighting with yours for dominance. Clearly, you were not one to submit. Though he supposes it should not come to a surprise, you always fought against everything else. This would be no different. However, Aemond was not but determined. 

“Well, is my Scholar willing to enlighten me in more wisdom–,”  You shivered at the cold metal around his fingers when they contacted your supple skin, hands caressing your sides, “-per the demonstration done last occasion?”

Your eyebrows narrowed, heat spreading on your nape at the unlocked memory, the one you've been registering over again in your head when you tried to sleep at night. A mistake. Well another was about to ensue. A bigger one. 

Ready to spit something back but your lips were swept away, Aemond hungrily biting the flesh.

You pulled back, witnessing the hands that now tangled in the fabric that was your main piece of coverage.

A loud tear echoed, your eyes widening in horror, “Are you mad?! I just got this!”  

Aemond rolled his eyes at the dramatic reaction. “Yes from my nephew, I’ll buy you a better one.” tongue wetting his lips at the sight of your chest. 

It wasn't bare, no, your small clothes were lace. A pretty pink lace and in the middle was a small little rose sown on. Was this what the women from your land wore? Such skimpy tops? All Aemond knew was that it caught him like a fish to a hook, excited to peel it off your body like a fruit shell, the delicious part hidden beneath.

“Wait.” You pushed against him. “This is exactly what Imaan Hammam wore in the comeback show of Victoria Secret. Be very careful, this is like one of three sets I have.” You smiled looking down at your lacy small clothes. “I have the one Adriana Lima wore and the Candice Swanepoel one. Very expensive, so be careful!” 

Who?

He ran his fingers across the material, it was soft. “You make me insane.” The grin that tugged on your face had the Targaryen cup your cheek, dragging the stare into your sight longer. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“...In a bad way, it makes me feel good.” Poetic. It appears you’re not the only Shakespeare here.

“Am I supposed to take that as a compliment or?” He shook his head, resuming with what he started, not a patch of skin was left untouched by his curiosity. Wet kisses and marks being planted on your neck.

 “You talk too much.” He murmured against you.

“Isn't that what teachers do?” You laughed as he pulled the rest of your dress down to expose the other half of your set. How pretty, even matching with the little rose. 

Aemond sat back, working his way with the strings of his trousers, loosening them to relieve the tent that formed by your charm, “You aren't teaching me anything?”

“I'll teach you the art of insertion,” you chuckled at your own joke but only one party was laughing.

“I know where to put it.” Aemond wasn’t stupid and you were not his first conquest, though judging by your demeanor, it wasn’t yours either. Though for the moment Aemond would rather not think of that. 

“Right, do you want to learn or not?” You smiled looking up at him.

Aemond sat back on his hunches, observing with that cold eye of his, expression unreadable. “Do proceed.”

“No wait, I was just kidding." Raising an eyebrow, a thought struck you, wouldn't it be amusing? 

“A jest,” a look of disbelief painted his expression. 

“Harder? Faster? Deeper?” You giggled looking towards him. 

He glared at your grimy ‘jest’, one hand wrapping around the bone of your ankle, satisfied by the small squeal that left your mouth as he pulled you halfway down the sheets, locating his hips between your thighs.

That seemed to shut you up, allowing Aemond to have his way with you. It was absurd, the way his body craved you so much. He wanted all of you, to see all of you, have everything to himself.

His jaw clenched, his hand glided over your stomach until it was right above the place you needed him most.

Your blood kept pumping, your heart skipped beats it shouldn't. Why were you reacting this way? His thumb hovered over the bundle of nerves that stood out, pressing with the large digit on it.

“Aemond, don't tease.” the drag of his name came so perfectly out of your pretty lips, lips that he devoured. 

Silently, he noted the buck of your hips when he moved his fingers in slow circles around your clit that were covered by the soft lace of your small clothes covering you

His brain drilled in all the information, your heavy breathing, the line forming between your eyebrows and that pleading swirl in your eyes when you peered at him.

“Did you enjoy that?” You curtly bobbed your head, still not partaking in the fact that this indeed was happening with Aemond Targaryen. “More, please.” The light gesture was maddening your senses, it was there, simulating, but not enough. 

“Wait, take it off. I can’t ruin this.” You breathed out, your cheeks flushed looking at him.

“I’m sure I can get you another.” Aemond was sure in this moment he would travel to the ends of the earth in this moment to get you what you needed. Anything just to your fucked out expression.

“You can’t. Just take it off” You whined and he obliged. Such a pretty thing it was. Though what it hid was prettier yet. In the light he could see you glistening. The prettiest underlings he had ever seen.  

“Aemond, more.” You begged to reach him. 

 And more was given, Aemond pushed your hip down when it buckled at the reaction and it did send a shock through your veins, but was quickly discarded by the overtaking pleasure.

“God.” You breathed out. Your awareness heightened, fingers tugging at the sheets of your bed at the bliss that was raising every second. 

Oh how you loved it, his thumb was replaced by his pointer and middle finger, flicking and toying with the pearl. Your thighs squeezed around Aemonds wrist but he caught one of your knees, pushing his wide open for more access.

They ran down your fold to collect the running slick, using it to fasten the pace. You couldn't control yourself anymore, there was a coil in your stomach and the constant spasms of your muscles that had you pushing your long nails into his bare chest, leaving red marks. Any deeper and his blood would spill. 

Your toes curled but then Aemond removed his fingers, holding them up to watch your honey gleam at the cricketing fire that reflected on it. You watched carefully, it shouldn't have been so attractive but it was.

As you were lost in thought, Aemond took the chance to cautiously find a way for his fingers inside your heat, making sure you won't act impulsively by slamming your legs shut.

It didn't take long for your hole to swallow them then try to fight off the intruding, worse was when he curled them, almost knuckle deep inside of you.

And it didn't take too long for him to have an orgasm forced out of you, all Aemond did was continue to investigate your body, your sultry moans that probably had heads turning in the direction of your chambers. 

Gossip. Murmurs. Scandals.

Aemond didn't care. Let them hear, let them whisper. He wants them to hear how good he makes you feel, best would be if his brother heard, then they'd know who you belonged to. A shame his nephew wasn’t here to listen to you.

Or even Ser Criston Cole.

Leaning down to peck your forehead, his spine curled and you felt all the bones and muscles in his upper back on the touch of your palm, broad shoulders, bones that flexibly shifted when he changed position.

Aemond was not able to restrain himself anymore, he was throbbing painfully, the orgasm he gave you didn't make it better. He wanted to be engulfed by your gummy insides.

“Don't be shy now, I'm wide open.” his eye widened, how shameless were you? Your hand seductively ran the curve from your chest to your navel, looking Aemond straight into the eye, no hesitation lingering behind yours.

You were over the previous view of this encounter. The desperate need to fulfill your sexual frustrations came into play, puppeteering you into doing things you probably would regret later.

His nostrils flared, exhaling lowly through his nose as his arousal lit up, exploding at your remarks, your body, your reactions, you. Just…you.

Why were you so special? It confused him. Everything was different about you and he wanted that difference in his life.

Your ankles crossed behind his back, playing the role of getting him closer this time, wearing a devious smile. “I expect more from the one-eyed Targaryen Prince.” 

Your arms now around his nape, your noses touching as your breath lingered like a breeze on him, people in the twenty-twenties would've gone crazy at the non-existent distance.

“Will you take it?”

“I will.”

“I'll ruin you.” That…did something to you. You felt that cold wetness ooze out of your hole and it made you bite your tongue. “Can you?” You lifted a brow offering the challenge. 

“I was always planning on doing so.” His hands ran up your back toying with the back of the small clothes you had.

“Then stop talking and move.” You helped him unclasp the back of your bra and it was thrown off to the side. He looked down towards you relishing the sight of you bare. His second time seeing you, yet it did not take away the illusion it had the first time.

“So demanding, have I made you desperate? Do you want me to fill you up?” Aemond egged you on, his lips finding their right on yours while he took off his garments.

Glancing down, you saw his hardened cock and it made you naturally beam into the kiss, the corners of your mouth curling up. “So big…”

Your hands were caged by one of Aemonds, pushing them above your head for a few minutes. He didn't need to pump his cock more than how hard it was already, only guiding the tip to the right place.

A sharp gasp escaped your throats, not just you but your partner for the night. His expression was like an open book, desperation, need, even guilt was written over it.

Slowly, inch by inch he was fully armored by the welcoming walls that swallowed him in with no further blockades. Groans fell from him like a melody, giving you the time to adjust to the gap your hole had to stretch into.

Your breathing was out of order, the sudden intrusion was too deep, or you felt it too deep. The stinging pain subsided into flowing ecstasy, the burn, the ache for further implications on you.

Your clit caught with the small, white hairs on the base when you bottomed out, his cock reaching greater lengths.

“Move!”

Clawings marked crescent shapes into his shoulders, throwing your head back when your command was heard. Aemond didn't waste time, he knew the spot you wanted him to strike.

Soon you arched off the bed and into his muscular arms, the male sculpting you to the best position. His teeth gnawed at one of your nipples as his pace started in motion, pulling back to steady himself with your round hips.

Aemonds thrusts were rough but somehow light at the same time, he knew how to keep that steady, slow pace. And for a fact, he knew that it angered you. 

But he wanted to treasure this moment, to enjoy it to its fullest, commit every detail to memory. In that moment, you wondered if you could piss him off, make him angry, make Aemond Targaryen fuck you like he's angry at you.

Oh god.

“Yes, wow,  you're going too fast, I won't come anytime soon.” The monotone sarcasm was played out perfectly, except for the shaggy breathes and moans that tagged along.  

“Patience is a virtue of a scholar.” Your scoff never made it out, instead, you were caught off guard by Aemond slamming you down on his dick after leaving only his red angry tip inside, your insides stretched and squeezed, making a molding for him to shelter in.

Your clit pulsed, making you compress around him in the progress and it had Aemond licking his lip at the shock that electrified him, goosebumps sprawling on his pale skin.

The sloppy noises filled the corners of the dimmed chamber, your mixed moans, out of breath sighs and the skin slapping against each other.

Aemond’s herculean hips were rolling to make you gulp down more, more. More of his thrusts that are becoming hectic, more of his honey coated shaft and more of him.

He was hypnotized. If you didn't use witchcraft on him, then what have you done?

Your heat was melting on him, squelches reaching his ears as he didn't stop working your cunt on his cock, sliding out and back in. He took notice of how fast his end was about to twist and snap.

But he didn't stop, not faltering any second even when his vision was fading to black spots, his ears ringing loudly. As were yours, your expression was priceless, jaw slacked and your eyes lost. 

The coil inside him tightened. The aggressive snap of his hips kept you on the high end, your pupils enlarging. Exhaustion hit like a weave at the beach but the bliss kept you up, like coffee on a sleepy morning.

Everytime you wanted to flutter your eyelashes shut, Aemond would thrust and have them wide open again, having your mouth form an o shape. “O-oh god!" Ae-Aemond!” 

Even his name laced with the hum of your voice was a blessing, a godsend gift. You kept clutching onto him as if you'd lose it all if you let go, your knees were bent, your breathing…

It was hard to take in air, Aemonds body was too heavy for you, crushing you beneath his weight. He didn't care, not while he was rearranging you from the inside out and having you milk him to the last drop.

Your thigh jolted, flinched as your calf raised even higher in the air, strands sticking to your forehead from the sweat, Aemonds silver locks mixing with your own hair.

“Not yet. Hēnkirī” it wasn't a request or a demand, but rather a pleading. Even if you didn’t understand Valyrian, it was all he could say. 

Tears brimmed at your lash line, how were you supposed to contain the fire that pooled in your lower stomach? It was getting larger and swallowing everything in its way.

Your smaller hands were trapped by the large, veiny hands that belonged to Aemond, his fingers locking within yours. “Avy jorrāelan”

You were too lost in the bubble of glory to even process his foreign words, too focused on the ecstasy that's about to burst. 

And it did. Right when it was unexpected. “Pull out, Aemond!”

Your orgasm came crashing down on you, your vision going white and your hearing sense being completely useless for the few seconds that your jaw lacked the strength to keep shut in. 

The Targaryen prince left your glazed hole with pre– now stroking himself to find his own release, all over your stomach when as done.

His finger scraped off some of the fluids, eyes heavy and half-lidded while waiting for you to calm down from the stimulation.

Finally catching your breath you looked down at yourself. “You had the entire bed, yet aimed for me?”

“You look better with it.” Aemond stood up rolling his shoulders while you lay still watching him.

“Well…better on me than in me I suppose.” You hummed, grabbing a rag and wiping yourself. 

“You don’t want to bear a royal child? Have your womb be royal? Any woman would kill for my seed.” Aemond watched you wiping yourself before taking the rag away and tossing it away. 

“No epidural, no children.” You murmured. “My bath is probably cold by now.” You looked over to the once steaming bath now releasing less steam. “You smell like Vhagar, you want to bathe with me?” You smiled sitting up trying to find the power to stand. 

Aemond said nothing before wrapping his arms around you nipping at your skin. “You’re going to leave marks, stop.” You tried to push him away but couldn’t, instead his grip around you tightened.

As he continued to suck at your skin you simply looked out the window as you began contemplating your next steps. So much for keeping your distance from the one-eyed prince. You needed to go collect your dues from the Miswak business and check on your reduced children, but even so, you needed time to prepare your proposal that was due in a month. So much to do and so little time. 

Note: Just a little extra added at the end (Special thanks) Also should anyone want to be a beta reader for me, pls!

Previous I Next I Masterlist

To be added to Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

[milkywaydrabbles]

8- Virginity with Alucard x virgin reader, please? I don't know if it has already been ordered. Thank you!

A/N: Tyyy for the req I haven't done this one yet! Got a little carried away with this I think, but very fun to write! Hope you like it! Mwuah

CW: Vriginity loss, pet names, that's it i think lol

Virginity x Alucard

It had been months of soft touches, sweet kisses, and promises of a loving life between you and your newfound love, Adrian Tepes. Meeting him seemed like a dream, the way he would always hold doors open for you, smile at you so lovingly, make sure you were comfortable. You’d open up to him as much as he did to you, learning each others’ deepest intimate secrets. One of which was the admittance of still being a virgin at your age. You were always nervous to divulge that information, feeling men think you prude. You just...hadn’t been interested. And all the men you’ve had the (dis)pleasure of meeting were, well, gross. Which is why when Adrian had asked to court you, you thought it was a joke. You laughed it off, giving him a ‘that’s funny, Adrian!’ before realizing he was being serious. You swore your heart stopped.

The months of courting had been the most perfect months of your life, and you were ready to take it to the next step with him. You wanted him to be your lover. “Adrian..” You found him in the study, looking at him through your lashes, bashful. He smiled that gorgeous smile at you, reaching a hand in your direction that you gladly took, guiding you to the chair next to his. “Yes, my dear? What is it?” So attentive. You steadied yourself before continuing. “I want...I want to make love.” Your red face now matched his, dropping the quill onto the desk. “That’s a big decision, giving me your virginity. Are you sure? We don’t have to discuss this now if you’re uncomfortable.” 

You took his concern as unwillingness, pout on your lips. Did he not want to...? Of course, the past he’s endured of course he wouldn’t want to. You gasped, suddenly feeling guilty. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry! I should have thought first, oh Adrian I’m--” He hushed you, taking both hands in his. “Darling, I’m more than willing to lay with you. Please make no mistake.” God, how can he just say things like that? “I want to make sure this is what you want. That you’re not doing this for me.” You squeezed his hands, “I’m sure, Adrian. I’ve never been more sure.”

So hours later, you’re underneath the Dhampir, writhing in pleasure as he suckles at your clit with a slender finger fucking into your virgin hole. “Haah, fuck. Feels so good, Adrian. B-better than my, aah, fingers” You admit to him, tugging at his hair when he sucks harder. “Hmm, how bold.” He smirks, looking up at you nosing your clit. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” You nod, mouth open and eyes hazy as he slips another finger into your pussy, stretching you out. You looked like a goddess to him, he couldn’t believe you were gifting him something so precious as your virginity. “You’re so tight around my fingers, beloved. Relax, I’ll make you feel good.” You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you were holding onto, looking down at him as he continued to lick around your pussy and clit, scissoring his fingers inside of you to help stretch you for what’s to come.  “Let me hear your pretty voice, what do you think of when you finger yourself?” 

You diverted your gaze with flushed cheeks, “I-I think of you t-taking me, aah, in your bed, mmh! In your study, too, on the desk.” He waited, expectantly, working you closer to your high. He could feel it, the way you started clenching on his fingers. “In different positions! Fuck, Adrian I want to try different positions!” You couldn’t help but get louder, the way he fucked into you with his fingers felt so fucking good. You couldn’t continue speaking, only babbling how good he felt before the feeling in your tummy snapped and you came around his fingers, your cunt drooling on his digits. He slowed, letting you ride out your high and seeing that cute little hole spasm around him. “Mmm, we will darling. Later. I want to take you like you deserve right now.” He couldn’t help himself, Alucard scooped up your juices and sucked his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the delicious, sweet taste of your pussy. He could do this for hours, but that would wait too. “Are you okay, sweetheart.” You nodded, blissed out smile plastered on your face. “Mhm, keep going Adrian.” He chuckled at your impatience, “insatiable and you’ve only just gotten a taste. I’ll have my hands full with you.”

Alucard lined his cock at your hole, waiting for your approval to continue, (he thought your neck would snap at how rapidly you were nodding, eager.) “Just breathe, sweetheart, I’ll go slow.” He pushed in, so painfully slow, his breath hitching as you gasped, trying to keep a steady breath. The stretch was uncomfortable, but not painful. He’d stretched you out so nicely with his fingers that it was bearable. He paused, waiting for you to give him the okay. As kind, patient, and caring Alucard was he was losing his mind with how tight you felt around him. So warm, and wet, and eager to swallow him whole. You urged him to continue, and he didn’t take a second thought before pushing in the rest of the way, feeling how you tightened around him just by taking his entire dick. Your back arched, nails digging into his biceps with pleasure. “Adrian, please.” You whined, not sure what you were begging for. He smirked, coming down to cover your body with his and leaning on his forearms, “Whatever you want, darling.” 

Adrian pulled out to the tip, seeing you squirm before shoving his cock back into you, hearing those beautiful cries. His pace quickened, white ring forming around the base of his cock as he continued to fuck into you. Your pretty little cunt felt so good, so good that Alucard doesn’t know how he held out for so long. He feels so grateful to have you, grateful that you trust him enough for this, grateful to be buried balls deep in the tightest, sloppiest little hole. “Doing so good for me, honey, does it feel good?” He borderline teased, Adrian knew what he was doing. You nodded, frantic, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. “Yes! Yes, s’good Adrian, so good!” You babbled on, repeating how good he felt inside of you, how big he felt, to keep going. A hand came down to rub at your clit, helping you get to your second orgasm of the night. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, wanting to kiss him as you came on his cock for the first time. You wanted him to invade all of your senses, the feeling pure euphoria as he squirmed and spasmed around his length, Alucard pounding into you now. You whined into his mouth, bucking your hips through your high. 

He stuttered, pulling out at the last second and spilling himself over your stomach. The two of you stayed still as you caught your breath, Adrian slowly pulling out and moving to get you cleaned up. You stayed in his arms, peppering kisses on his face with a smile. “Thank you Adrian, it felt so good.” He sighed, relishing in your praises. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Another pause.

“Can you...not pull out next time?” You were the absolute death of him.

[ranafamily7]

Very urgent 🚨

🌧️ In the midst of the biting cold that gnaws at our bodies in Gaza, my father stands in southern Gaza, alone and without a provider, challenging the harshness of the circumstances. Every day that passes becomes a heavy burden for him, as his daily expenses reach $100, an amount he cannot secure.

💔 My father needs a tent to protect him from the winter storms and a warm blanket to shield him from the harsh cold. However, the price of the tent is $2000, a sum that is out of reach for us.

🙏🏻 At this moment, you may be the hope we need. Your donation today could change my father's life and give him the warmth of hope. Don't let the cold take away what little strength he has left. Be part of the change and give a father in Gaza a chance to survive.

🤝 Your donation is a humanitarian gesture that will remain in my father's memory and in all our hearts. Let’s stand together for our humanity!

@something-perpendicular @donsofwaste @gvnsey@inkxplashes@snowflakesincalifornia

@4rthstandbreak@lyriumrain@lunaragk

@riottalker @schrodingers-tribble

@macheriegrove @sparvverius @sweetenberries @mischiefmagpie @violet-2084-turkish-warrior@cyberoticism @televy @karineverse @electricseraphimdiaries @skybluethunderhead @lasbrumas @dhmis55-blog. @frogncranberries

@awhimsyreader901 @penwrythe

@absoloutenonsense @envytheroost @pantropikos @little-sunflower-bug

@gridelincarver

@gummy-sharks666 @ohgirliepleasee @jumping= jackalope @electricpterodactyl @let-us-cultivate-our-garden

#evening post #vetted by association

@sunboxinsignia @leeblissy @kidtested-fangirlapproved @1nky-quill @marcillemon

@hiiamredacted @teaspoon-of-salt @merps @gaylobsterd @purplespacekitty

@space-specs @thesubwaymp3 @inky-goddess @itsnotalemon @badolmen

@cannibalistic-vampirefag @cow-stealin-gal @lanliingwang @nov1963 @starfallen-tears

@opalbestcharacter @bruce-greenwood

@viiridiangreen @mimogutz @seaslug24

@flagellant @jjjammerson@verycolourfulflipflops @genericminecraftpotato#afternoon post #vetted by association@wildfeather5002 @caroblogsthings @ragnarockz-boost @lillian321 @sunset-diamond@nightowlssleep @swiftadrift @walnut-kitto @themarias @commiearabgirl|

@rinthesecond@brookepagebe @kixflip@1pOlly1@morihaus @rattlesnake-acrobatics @thatonebored-juniorcolleague @my-multi-fandom-blog @slyfire @constellationriver @moonfox-mumbles @mauvethecolor @banananerdworld@13mon-boy@slipppy @stargazinglesbian @transguyhawkeye @i-am-the half-dead-soul-|@futuristicchaospoetry @antigxnee@uhhh-i-dont-know@charc-arts @hexblooddruid @strawbebbyboba @strawberridrops @rawdvd@bonicedemandarina @radical-lOver @weareweirdpeople @ash-the-bee@ettaberrytea @cryptdmoth @cthulusposts @eastgaysian@probablynotaskeleton @sh4rkh4ts

@all-purpose-utility-nerd @free0101@slendyverseargcollections @neonfruitbowlstuff @thegardener-and-theaupair @luminouslateralup @zzzubie @crisostomo @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @preemptivemolars @gayruledge @danyayeni2 @agentmoss @solitudecasesolace @demonpikmin @capybara-platypus @ambreeskyewriting @q8p @death-cannot-kill-you@Oluna123 @th3ch1psste4ler @lavenderlovers-@exactlydangerousdragon @charcoalsoup69

@decadentmuffindreamscissors @taptrial2@virovac @blue-jacket-blues @tacit-semantics @timeless-orchid @cinnarainbow @aziraphaleapologist @harley-angel @swapauanon @yakiattaki @piratefry@diagnosedhorsegirl@bebbls-craft-blog.@the-acid-pear @moviequotes23 @nickbluehour @numberlludicolofan @inkslingerr@madspades@implalazz @lunar-eclipse-bunnies @microwavesex @a-court-of-valkyries @thegoodwitchluz-uea@seventhefurbfather @cO-j-c0 @ignore-this0 @space-ace-books @olivedacat @exhausted-asterism @iphigenia-wailing @enderenby404

@whatyouvegotunderyourskirt @kurtle@rabidkermit@splend-42@dustywarbler@moonrisemoonchild @senlinstudies@birdmenmanga @rabbithaver @jolyne-best-jojo @just-a-mod @officialgleamstar @ehjane @cosmicsymbols @treeen @spunkfunkyzzz @fairedoll @trashrunes@skiddlecat@tim-the-rat@pegglefan69 @writing-is-a-martial-art @ohmerricat @mildmayfoxe @sunnyartistwriter

@rabidkermit@splend-42@dustywarbler@honeybeeffdrawshere @jayskai@astronnonyy@400terahertz @poltiddies@yourlocaleccentricscientist@whatyouvegotunderyourskirt @kurtle

[deepspace-nasty]

imagine being gale's roommate / friends with benefits during his blackstaff days, before he gets with mystra. just thinkin about a 20 somethin year old gale, still experimenting with everything, but more cocky than ever. he is on a first name basis with the goddess of magic after all, he deserves to be a little cocky. him getting so frustrated one night at his classes, he asks you if its ok that you two use each other for "stress relief". you agree, and that night you have the best orgasm of your life thus far.

and for a while it's just that - quick romps after tests in your dorm room, drunk make out sessions on the couch after one too many at the yawning portal, and, rarely, sex where you both slow down and take in each other's bodies and noting what gets the other going.

but then something shifts - maybe gale and mystra are finally together at this point, and she doesn't like sharing her lovers. you think its fine, you weren't more than just friends anyway.

but then it hits you one night, while your only companion for the night is a near empty bottle of wine, that no, you aren't fine. you've gown fond of gale's long winding ramble, his hair that he has started growing out and putting in tiny ponytails. you've grown fond of his patchy stubble thats started to grow in, and hasnt allowed himself to let it grow more than a 5 o'clock shadow. you've grown fond of how his hands move (how they used to hold your hips), how his fingers wrap around his quill (and your thighs-), how his eyes glimmer with mischief when he realizes he needs a book that he Definitely can't get access to (the darkness of his eyes in the candle light, roaming over your naked body).

but its too late. by the time you realize it, its time for you both to graduate, and gale has most certainly moved on from you, and into the arms of mystra. can you?

its not until years later, way down the line, that you even see gale again, right in front of you and not at a wizard's party or ball, and he looks so different. longer hair, and a beard of all things. his eyes still hold that mischief, but now, like you and the others you've found they also hold a parasite behind them.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (2)

MASTERLIST

Summary: The trials begin

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, threats of mutilation, death, I think is considered genocide because is a bunch of people, DRAGONFIREEEE. SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon 

MINORS DNI +18

Wordcount: 3.7 k 

Notes: Reader has purple eyes and silver hair!

They opened the door to your chambers slowly, to not scare you, to let you know of their arrival

“Lord Cregan Stark”, muttered the guard posted at her door

You didn’t even looked at him, you didn't care, you just looked over at Blackwater Bay, where hundreds of ships were making port, the banner of the House Arryn was waving in the highest masts

Too late

You thought

The Arryns, The Starks, the Tullys, all your mother’s bannermen had come to the capital, to you

Important, unprecedented, powerful

And yet

it meant nothing

it was too late 

Your mother, your father figures, your siblings, they were all dead, gone, killed, betrayed, slain, devoured, sunk

“Your grace”, the wolf called, “I have taken the city in your mother’s name”, he said firmly, “in your name”, he continued, “and if you allow me, I will bring justice to her”, you looked at him then, and only nodded.

“I need your words, your grace”, he was not asking, he was demanding, he was at your service, and yet, you immediately felt like you had to give him something in return.

He got to look at you then.

Like all the women in your family, and even some men, your beauty was beyond what words could describe, you were there, emaciated from years of trauma, death and war, and yet, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Your beauty did not belong to this world, he thought, you were a goddess in human form, with those silvery strands and purple eyes

And he was the most imposing man you had seen in return, he felt like this… God, a god of war and justice, wisdom and prowess, like the colossus of Braavos, nothing could tumble him down, he had been here for hundreds of years, and he was going to continue there for hundreds more. it felt like with him by your side, nobody could hurt you, with him by your side, you were safe. Invincible 

Nobody needed to tell you who he was, just by looking at him you would have known, even though you had never seen him before 

“... And I need it in writing”, he said slowly and calmly, “do you trust me to seek justice in your name?”, did you? your brother befriended the man and after he came back, having promised your hand to him in marriage, he had say he was his best friend, and the most honorable men he had met, and that you were going to be happy and safe by his side

There was no one better than him

You went to the small desk in the corner of the room, parchment and quill in hand, you had no clue what you were doing, but you scribbled on the paper that you gave Cregan Stark the authority to act in your name, with long, pompous and unnecessary words of politics, those you knew well, your mother had make sure of it

“Cregan Stark”, you called, turning to him, your decree in hand, he stood still, raising his head and straightening his posture, “I command you to seek justice for my mother, the late Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen” you said, your voice sounds strained, just because you hadn't spoken in so long, “I command you to imprison the ones who conspired and usurped her, and to punish them in my name”, you said then, giving him the paper

“I will be the hand that brings justice, my queen”, he sentenced, reading your words, he nodded approvingly. And you could not hide your surprise

“They named… me?”, you asked

“We did”, he said, “The Tullys, the Arryns, the Starks, the Tarlys, Tyrells…”, you only nodded

“I will come after, to make the announcement of the trials and those who will be put to them”

“Should I go?”, you asked

“A queen should not concern herself with such matters of justice”, he said

“Very well”, he nodded, and just like that, he exited your chambers

With him on the helm, you would be safe

Queen

You were a Queen know

Rhaenys, the Queen that never was, and then your mother The Black Queen

They had failed

And now, here you stood

Were you going to fail too?

Cregan walked slowly, the people that came across him would move away from him, letting him passed uninterrupted, bowing their heads

It was a good sign

The castle that had looked like it was abandoned, was slowly returning to life, people from all the most important families were here, and the first thing he needed to do was to send even more ravens, to all corners of the realms.

There was a New Queen, and all the most important families and their banner men had to be here for her coronation

The staff, maids, servants, soldiers, they did not had armies to fight of gold to use, but they had access to places and that access could be bought by enemies still lurking in the shadows

He had to make sure everyone who was to inhabit the Red Keep was completely loyal to their new Queen. A queen who just turned into a woman, if barely, a broken young woman, who had seen the death of everyone in her family but her baby brother. He had more work than he thought. He came with the purpose of installing the princess on the throne, make her Queen, and then pursue those traitors and turncloaks with his army, lead them to the gates of the citadel itself

But he was starting to think that this was going to be more politics and ink that swords and blood

Cregan Stark needed to relegate, and for that, he needed trusted men, loyal men to the cause of the late Queen and the new one now

And this is how he was going to accomplish that

When he walked into the throne room 

The small council, and their families where inside

It was to his knowledge that Baela Targaryen was also in attendance. The betrothed of the deceased Crown Prince Jacaerys. He basically know the girl, because of how much Jace would talk about her

As he made his way to the throne, he opened the decree and show it to everyone

“I have in my hand a royal decree from the Queen”, he said loudly, “In it, she declared me as her hand to seek justice for the late Queen Rhaenyra”

“Seek justice?”, of course Corlys Velaryon was the first to contradict him

“I will hold trials for the traitors and turncloaks”, he said, and everyone in the throne room began to either whisper nervously, gasp audibly, or said lowly words of disapproval.

His men entered the room, alongside the three of the seven remaining white cloaks he had send for, loyal to Queen Rhaenyra

“Ser Erryk Cargill”, he called, the man stood in front of him with his brothers, “Ser Adrian Redfort and Ser Loreth Lansdale”, the three of them bowed his heads, “do you recognize the true line of succession?”, he asked out loud

“Yes M’lord”, answered Erryk

“Do you recognize Queen Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter as Queen of the seven Kingdoms?”, he asked

“Yes my lord!”, they chanted at the same time, “we swore towards the Queen!”

“Great, do you recognize me, by this decree, hand of the Queen?”, he asked showing them your words, they look amongst themselves and nodded

“Yes my Lord”

“Very well, today, as my first act as hand, I will hold trials, to apprehend traitors who conspired against the true heir, resulting in a bloodied civil war and the death of thousands, do you stand by me?”, he asked

“YES MY LORD!”

“Then apprehend Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord Tyland Lannister, Larys Strong…. for starters”, he muttered

The court was submerged in chaos 

And he didn’t stop there

He arrested twenty men, including Alard Baratheon, who was new to court and also Gyles Belgrave, former king’s guard to the usurper 

On charges of treachery, conspiracy against the rightful Queen, and other charges.

To every man he placed in chains, he held trails for.

Those on trial had the chance to defend themselves, justify their treachery, present witnesses and evidence of what they had done and why, and ultimately, offer their repentance.

It felt to Cregan to stand as judge, and sentence to death those who were found guilty 

The first day was slow, mostly sentencing, and organizing the witnesses and defenses. The night fell over the Keep rather quickly, soon all servants lit up the torches, as Cregan dismissed them all

He wanted to see you

Rather, he needed to see you

“Ser Erryk, it is to my knowledge that you had been a part of the Queen’s Guard the longest”

“Yes my lord”

“You are the new Commander of the Queensguard, when all of this is over, you alongside the Queen will choose another four to complete the brotherhood”

“It will be my honor, Lord”, he said firmly

“Good”, he said shortly, “one of your brothers will be posted with the Queen at all times, another with the prince Aegon”, he continued

The guard posted at your rooms nodded at his sight, and announced him, entering in your chambers

He found you with your baby brother, having supper.

It was the first time he got to see the young boy in detail, he was small for someone his age, but his ghostly eyes had seen things no child nor adult should ever seen, and he could tell just by looking at them, the pain and sorrow he suffered

“My Lord Cregan, please join us”, you invited him

You and your little brother, all that was left of the greatest dynasty of Westeros

He accepted your offer, sitting across from you. The small boy didn’t meet his eye, he was just playing with his food in front of him, he noticed than when he spoke, he shook like a leaf in the wind

“I made twenty arrests”, he said firmly, “Including Corlys Velaryon, Tyland Lannister and Larys Strong…”, you nodded, “not sure yet, but many are already too guilty, like Larys, or a former while cloak of the usurper…”

“Any hightower?”, you asked. Prince Aegon rose from his seat then, and walk silently to a small door in the other side of the chamber, disappearing from sight 

“Sorry about that”, you said, “he barely speaks to me, and I’m the only one who he talks with”

“He will heal, so will you”, he said, you nodded

“So what about the hIghtowers?”, you asked again

“Those who led armies… are dead… Otto Hightower, his sons, his brother and his oldest son as well…”, he continued, you took a sip of wine, trying to gain some courage 

“What about Alicent?”, you asked, he looked at you

“The Dowager Queen is in lockdown, in the Tower of the Hand your grace”, he said gently. You took a long breath

“I want her dead”, you said brokenly

“You want your first command as Queen to be the death of the former one?”, Cregan asked severely

“She is the cause of everything that happened”, you said, finally looking at him, “she hated my mother, she made her life miserable while we lived here as children, she filled my uncles with poisonous hate for me and my brothers, she turned the entire court against us, she called us bastards and made everyone else say it too, she manipulated her children to usurp my mother’s throne, she was the cause, of everything, I want her dead”, you said, and he looked back at you with warning

“Many would argue, that she herself was manipulated by her father, besides, your mother forgave her”

“I won’t”, you said, “and because she was a cunt and a fool everything should be forgiven? Ignorance is not a crime, but perhaps it should be, why should she draw breath while my entire family doesn’t?”

“I am your hand, your Grace, you wanted it so, so as your hand, my job, is to advice you”, he said gently, “and my advice is to imprison her, yes, but not execute her”, you looked at him with eyes filled with tears and he looked back at you, worried, “The Hightowers are decimated, yes, but they still remain a powerful family… one of the most powerful”

“That could be easily fixed”, you retorted, he frowned

“What do you mean?”, he asked softly, you kept quiet

“You said you wanted to bring justice to the realm, I want the HIghtowers dead, all of them”, you sentenced, “Lannisters, Velaryons… Baratheon… they all riled to Aegon’s side because of them”

Cregan looked at you, and you broke down crying in front of him

You tried to wipe your tears quickly, you held so strongly, but to no avail, you were crying in front of Cregan Stark

“I’m sorry”, you cried, wiping the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling

“I understand your anger, your rage”, he said softly

“My entire family is dead!”, you cried, broken, weeping, you had been holding onto your emotions for so long that now, that you felt safe, the fake wall you had sustained for all these tumultuous months as a hostage in the Keep finally broke down. You cried for long minutes, taking it all out of your chest, freeing yourself, even if just a little, of the sorrow of loss.

When you finally calmed down, reduced to only sniffles, Cregan dared to speak again

“My own uncle betrayed me and took my lands from me”, he confessed, you looked at him, barely able to see him

“What?”

‘I was very young when my father died, he was supposed to act as Lord regent, but he usurped me as Lord of Winterfell”, he told you, “my cousins supported him”

“What did you do?”, you asked, more calm

“I gathered the great houses of the North everyone supported me, I stormed my home, took him prisoner, him and my cousins”, he looked at you softly, gently, “I decreed them traitors, and took their heads with the millennial sword of my house”

“You did?”, you asked

“He who passes the sentence must swing the sword, my queen”, he said gently, “but that applies only to Lords I’m afraid”, you smiled

“I don’t want them dead”, you continued, “I mean, I do, but, I understand why I shouldn't’...”, he smiled softly

“Good”, he said

“But I want them to think that I do, I want them to beg, I want them to empty their coffers to please me, to reinstate the treasury”

“That we can do”, he said firmly, “we will use them as examples, of what happens when you mess with the dragon”, you nodded, “I will call them to court”

Cregan wondered what you meant by “that can be easily arranged”, he also thought about his army, it was great, yes, but he wasn’t sure it was enough to fight the might of the hIghtowers, it had to be, he did plan on marching to Old Town

“Tomorrow you will tell me, how much time passed between now, and when she went to sleep alright?”, he asked your Queenguard on the door

His second in command Jon Dustin was waiting for him

“Tomorrow before the trials but after the young Queen is tended to, you will gather all the servants and maids, everyone who works in this castle, and you will bring them to me”

“Very well my lord”, he nodded 

You were worse than he thought, you were angry, understandably so, but he needed to find a middle ground, punishments hard enough to please your rage, but not that extreme that the Kingdoms start to rebel themselves against their New Queen

The next day, the second day at court, Lady Baela presented herself in front of the Wolf of Winterfell, to plead for her grandfather

“Your grandfather is being charged of Regicide, he is the main suspect of poisoning the Usurper”, he said firmly, “Even though we repudiate his reign, the murder of a monarch cannot stand unpunished”

“He did it to prevent the death of a thousand more my Lord! he did it to protect the Queen, the prince, and me”, she fought

Corlys Velaryon was pardoned after that day, thanks to Baela, and then you, who approved of such forgiveness. Even though you did not wish to see your named grandfather and cousin

Tyland Lannister came then, and the Lion knelt before the wolf. Rhaenyra had him severely tortured, and some words scape him, but he had returned the treasury in his entirety, and pleaded for a space in the small council

He had been good to you and your brother, and Aegon made you forgive him, and you did

In the fourth day of the trial, Alard Baratheon was forgiven too, he belonged to a lesser branch of his house, now the main thanks to the death of Lord Borros, he had no part in the Dance, and as such, he bend the knee to the New Queen’s rule 

The other eighteen men were not so lucky, they were all found guilty of treason,  on the fifth, sixth and seventh and final, including and especially Larys Strong, the maester, and others. 

And in all those days, you were receiving updates by Cregan himself, and you were… meditating

People were being trialed and sentenced to death, they were going to pay for what they had done, this was your comfort, justice, simple and pure justice, for your mother, for your family.

You had promised yourself that this was going to be enough

If you kept punishing these lords, the people was going to reject you as their Queen

And you couldn’t fail

Never

You had seen what happens when you failed

So the sentence of these Lords, and then the Hightowers, and then, you had to calm yourself.

Wanting it or not, the crown had fallen on your head, against all odds, for better or worse.

But here is the catch, the crown was now attached to your head, loose one is loose both

And you owed it to your mother, Daemon, your father, whoever it is, to Jace, Luke, Rhaenys… you owed it to your family to keep your crown over your head, and your head over your shoulders.

So as the days turned long, you were preparing yourself too

You only appeared in court the seventh and last day of the trial

You wore black, you were still in mourning, it was a fearsome dress, you too it from your mother’s coffers, and a magnificent crimson red cape dances behind you as your walked

Your hair was braided with magnificent braids, instead of the crown

You entered the throne room, for the first time as Queen, everyone there bowed to you, everyone except those on trial

Cregan wanted you to take the oaths of House Lannister and Baratheon.

And both lords, Tyland and Alard bowed to you, kneeled in front of you, sincerely, atoning 

You gave him the pardon yourself 

The eighth and last day, you demanded those found guilty to be brought to the cliffs on the outside of King’s Landing

Ser Erryk was holding Blackfyre, right by your left side, and Cregan with his sword Ice, was standing in your right, soldiers, all of them wearing your colors, black and red, brought forth the eighteen men who had been sentenced to death

You could see in the small crowd those who had been pardoned as well, along all the great Lords and Ladies of your households who had sailed to the Capital from Dragonstone in the week after Cregan summoned them

“Pass me the sword Ser Erryk”, you commanded, he nodded, and passed you the sword of your family, it was heavy, you couldn’t raise it above your head to strike even if you wanted to

“My Queen, I can…” Cregan murmured

“He who passes the sentence should swing the sword”, you said firmly, looking at him, the exchange was only heard by you three, not loud enough for the others.

It was a windy day, and you could barely hear the voice above the whistling

“My Queen, I did not mean…”, with one look, he kept quiet, you grabbed the sword of the Conqueror in your hand. You turned to the men in front of you, Cregan moved away, just like Erryk to stand by the side. 

“You had all be found guilty of treason against the legitimate heir of the seven Kingdoms, you conspired against her ascent and work to usurp her”, you said loudly

“Aegon was the true heir!”, screamed Gyles Belgrave, “I'd rather die than serve a bastard! daughter of a whore! you are no true Targaryen!”, those screams and accusations didn’t even bothered you, not anymore

“Oh I am not a true Targaryen?”, you asked

The whistle of the wind was dimmed by a way more stronger, menacing sound

You saw, with pleasure, everybody shake in their places when they heard your dragon roar

“All the dragons were dead!”, cried that small man you didn’t even want to learn the name of. Even Cregan was surprised 

Vhaelar growled in the air, you heard the flap of her wings, and she landed heavily by your side. She roared loudly, menacingly. You felt her anger, or perhaps, what you were feeling was the mirror of your own emotions. 

You caressed the side of her face softly, Vhaelar purred

You saw how the former King’s guard peed his pants, shaking uncontrollably. Larys Strong, you alleged uncle, was only looking at you and smiling sickenly, 

“I Queen (y/n) Targaryen, Queen of the Rhoynar the Andals and the first men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm, sentence you all to die by dragon fire”, you sentenced, grabbing the pommel of Blackfyre tightly, you were nervous, but this was nothing you haven't seen before

This was it, this single act had to be the outlet of your rage.

Soon when you look at those men kneeled in front of you, they all took the faces of everyone you hated, Alicent, Aegon, Criston Cole, they were all there, dressed in green, looking at you in fear and reverence, kneeling on the ground 

“Dracarys”, you said firmly

You felt the joy of Vhaelar who set them on fire, you felt your skin getting warm by the heat of the flames

You saw the men turn to inhumane forms and then to dust

You saw it like that day in Dragonstone, and yet… now you felt nothing.

Only relief

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd @aestmilky

[r0mantic-f00l]

(this turned out to be a bit angstier than I thought but still has a happy ending!)

I present to you, enemies to lovers with mr regulus black!

Infatuation

Regulus Black.

There was nobody else you despised more. Nobody else could make you snarl at his ridiculous wavy hair, his stupid ocean-blue eyes, his smarmy yet lucent grin. Nobody else made your skin crawl, your blood rush through your veins, your heartbeat rapidly increasing in its speed.

You hated him.

Truly despised him.

Yet with that hate came infatuation.

Whenever he walked into the room you were already in, with his chin pointed upwards whilst his lips curled into an arrogant grin, you gazed at him with such passionate hatred behind your eyes. And he was already staring at you with the exact same hatred.

You hated it when he sat across from you in the Great Hall, staring at you with blank, beady eyes whilst you conversed with a boy, a handsome boy, a boy who smiled at you and laughed at your jokes and glanced at you in a way that didn't show complete hatred. You lost focus when Regulus would glare at you, or perhaps you told yourself that to stop the suggestion that you simply grew bored of the boy entering your mind.

You did love some things about Regulus.

You loved the exhilaration he gave you when you did something you were not supposed to do to make him suffer (only mildly, of course, much to your dismay). You loved the competition, the rivalry present between you whenever you sat next to each other in Potions. Most of all, you loved the freedom he gave you to not be a perfect angel. With everyone else, you had to smile like a goddess, walk like a swan, talk like a princess. With him, all of that was forgotten. You were grateful, however, for the brief escape he unknowingly allowed you from being perfect all the time. It was tiring, draining you from inside your heart.

He knew how devilish you truly could be, and he relished in the hell you provided him.

You walked into the Potions class one afternoon, your last lesson of the day, and sat in your designated seat; at the very back of the classroom where nobody (bur Regulus) could bother you.

It seemed the boy was running late, and although you grinned in satisfaction on the outside, you felt your heartbeat decrease in its speed.

Slughorn had begun to talk, smiling in an annoyingly jovial way, when Regulus had rushed in with a sour look on his face, and your heartbeat drummed against your chest.

"Regulus, my boy! Better late than never." Slughorn joked, oblivious to the boy muttering under his breath, seemingly frustrated as he took his seat next to you.

You glanced over at him, watching as he threw his quill and his books out in anger.

Your grin grew bigger.

"Oh no, is the precious teacher's pet frustrated 'cause he was late?" You pouted in faux sympathy, bashing your eyelashes as he snarled.

"Shut up."

You laughed, seemingly finding humour in the boy's sour mood.

"Wow, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Reggie?"

He scoffed.

"I told you to stop calling me Reggie."

"Well, I didn't promise anything, did I?"

The boy dipped his quill in his pot of ink, writing notes in a messy scrawl, trying his hardest to ignore you, and your stupid grin, and your ridiculously beautiful hair, and your glossy lips that reflected the light of the candles.

"Hmm, are you ignoring me now?" You asked, subconsciously leaning closer, making the boy take a deep breath which you mistook as a sign of annoyance.

He continued to write, making you huff and roll your eyes.

"You're no fun today."

"Well excuse me for actually wanting to pay attention in this class for once."

You grinned, and Regulus instantly knew he said his words wrong.

"So you're saying that you pay attention to me in most of these lessons?"

"I'm saying that you bother me that much with your incessant rambling that I don't have time to do work." The boy spoke through gritted teeth, no longer writing but still staring down at his page.

"Just say you're in love with me at this point, Reggie." You grinned.

Regulus glanced up from his page, still not quite looking at you just yet, but rather focusing his gaze on your hand that touched his side of the desk.

"..And if I was?"

Finally, your grin had dropped, the curve of your lip faltering as you processed his words. Only 4 words he said, but it made your heart beat rapidly, your brain stop working, your lungs stop bringing in air.

The boy had looked up at you then, a slight smirk on his face, yet his eyes could not be read, could not be understood by your eyes which had memorised every one of his looks, his mechanisms, his patterns. This, this was unlike him. This was not the Regulus Black you'd grown to passionately despise.

"W-What?"

"I said," He leaned closer to you, staring at you intently.

"If I was in love with you, if I couldn't stop thinking about everything you do, if I have driven myself insane over the thought of you, what would you do?"

He found humour in the way your mouth was slightly agape, your eyes scanning his as you had appeared to stop breathing.

"I-I," You tried to say something, but your mouth had ran dry and your mind did not provide you with any help. It was as if you had forgotten how to speak.

He pouted slightly, tilting his head as he watched you struggle to find words.

"Nothing?" Regulus questioned, copying your faux sympathy you always had whenever the boy was in a sour mood just like before.

Still, you could not speak, could not utter the words your heart screamed in your chest as you continued to stare at him with a perplexed and shocked expression.

He turned back to his notes and grinned to himself, feeling pride in his success to make you silent.

It was only when Slughorn began to dismiss the class that you spoke up once again, yet with such a feeble and broken voice.

"I truly cannot stand you."

You then hurried out of the classroom, your bag knocking pots of ink down on the floor as you stormed away.

It wasn't the first time you had said that, in fact Regulus had lost count of how many times you told him you hated him, but this was different. There was true venom behind your words, true fury in your voice. Yet your voice still wobbled in an upset manner, your bottom lip slightly quivering as you hid your glassy eyes away from him.

And the boy was compelled to follow after you, calling out your name as he ignored the confused looks of other students.

Regulus Black, running after the girl who he despised, with such desperation?

The boy did not know by what he was compelled, he did not know the emotions that entered his heart like a virus, he did not know why his legs were picking up speed as you rushed away from him. All he did know was he had done something devastatingly wrong.

You walked into a desolate classroom and slammed the door, but you were too late in your efforts to keep him out, Regulus opening the door shortly after you closed it.

"Go away, Reggie." You murmured in a weak manner, the boy ignoring your request as he stepped closer to you, unsure what to do in this situation to calm you down. Because you didn't seem angry, no, you seemed distraught.

"What's wrong? What did I do?" He asked, approaching you as if you were a delicate, yet dangerous creature.

"Go away, Regulus!" You snapped, shocking both the boy and yourself as you yelled.

He saw the way tears dropped from your eyes, and he felt his heart shatter.

"N-No, I'm not leaving, I'm not leaving you." He drew closer to you, holding his arms out as if to hug you, but stopping in his movement like he didn't know how to, like he didn't know if he could.

"Please, just go away." You repeated your request again, your feeble, muttering voice returning. Yet your words contrasts your actions, as you held onto his arms for support.

"Tell me what I did that made you like this. Tell me." Regulus asked, desperation appearing in his eyes and in the way he spoke as he watched you weep.

"Y-You," Unable to get the words out, you took a deep breath, before crumbling down all over again.

"You don't joke about loving someone, Reggie! Not like that. Not when that someone actually loves you!"

In that moment, everything clicked into place for Regulus. That was why he chased after you. That was why he glared at whatever other boy you smiled at. That was why he was mean and cruel and bitter towards you. Because he loved you. And he didn't know how to show it. After all, how can someone show love it they have never been shown it themselves?

Your cries filled the silence in the room as he processed all his thoughts and his feelings. Though, there was not much to process, they were all of you.

"Y-You love me?"

You scoffed, stepping away from him as you harshly wiped away your tears as if you were disgusted at your own emotions.

"Yes, I do. I love you. And it's such a cruel fate." You snarked, yet you felt weaker.

Regulus walked towards you once more, but stopped in his tracks before he could get too close.

"I-I love you. I love you." He repeated it, sinking it in to your and his brain, and he smiled. A smile not of arrogance, or of mischief, but rather a smile of content, of peace, of belonging.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you snapped out of it, whatever spell his words placed on you, and you sniffed, looking down at the wood beneath you as you folded your arms.

"No you don't."

Regulus' eyebrows furrowed, and he chose to step closer to you finally, to breach that line that you both drawn since the first year in Hogwarts.

"I do. I-I realise now, that I've loved you ever since I met you. I just... I suppose I repressed it." He tucked your hair behind your ear, making you look up to see his soft smile.

"I've grown tired of pretending to hate you, when you're the person I love most in this world."

You glanced between his eyes, and saw a sign of love, recognising truth behind his words, and your brain memorised that as another mood of his, one that you would see always.

"Really?"

He nodded, cupping your face.

"Truly."

You smiled, and held the hands that was holding your face, and leaned in for a soft kiss, a kiss that Regulus did not know how to give, but he was a rather quick learner, always had been.

That day, you learned that the infatuation you had for the boy was not one born out of pure passionate hatred, but rather an overwhelming amount of love.