#raven consort

[tabithacerberus]

I am so excited to share my Raven Cosnort from Raven of the Inner Palace cosplay. I lover how I look in this cosplay and I think it is one of my more intense female cosplays. I am a huge fan of the anime and been reading the light novel as it premiers in the USA. Raven Consort: Myself Wig Stylist: @_mavywavywigs_ 📸: @tnsimaging

[herreviewtidalwave]

BRB Shouxue is about to evict someone from the mortal plane

[maomaojinshi]

I'm kind of a long hair junkie in both women and men, but it's a really nice hairstyle. It suits her face.

[courtofcrescent]

I need to know how MC went from servant to royal consort 😂

Can we get facts about the previous royal family and the relationship with MC ?

Greetings, First Anon!

Quite an intriguing development, no? 👀 Alas, it's not a spectacular tale in the society of COC. Let's delve into some worldbuilding ramble under the cut!

1. How does MC go from a servant to a royal consort?

To begin with, our MC wasn't just a mere servant; they were a High Servant—or still, the demo isn't out yet lol. This position can only be granted to a child of nobility (or in very rare cases, to a child of a very wealthy merchant through... clandestine means).

High servant exclusively serves the royal family members, functioning somewhat like a personal assistant and trusted confidant. They command their master's retinue of servants, and are pampered by their own attendants too! If we were to draw an equivalent position in our world, they're kind of like a lady-in-waiting or a gentleman's gentleman? But with much more power.

But how did they become the Royal Consort? You'll find out soon 😉

2. Facts about the former Royal Family and their relationship with MC?

The former Royal Family hails from a very prestigious and ancient noble bloodline that has reigned over the court for two thousand years. The former Royal House values honor above all else—according to the official history books and royal chronicles, at least. The former Royal Family formally consisted of the (Old) King, Queen Consort, Princess, Crown Prince, (Boy) King, and our beloved mistress: the Concubine.

As the player, you can define how your MC perceives their relationships to some extent. But no matter what, MC will always have a soft spot—or a very soft spot—for the Mistress, and a deep respect for the Queen Consort.

Thank you for the ask! 🩶

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Wakamiya, Yukiya and the lady ravens

So far, I’d like to commend the series composition writer Yukiko Yamamuro for reinterpreting Chisato Abe’s novel and patching up the first two volumes of the book series (and the others maybe) into one cohesive narrative while altering some things to make it more comprehensible.

If you haven’t seen the 12th episode, beware of spoilers from here on:

Yukiya

In the manga, he only showed up when Wakamiya asked him to assist him on how to demonstrate the utility of the Ue, their raven suit, concerning Samomo’s death. (Of course, it is given that he might just be in the background the whole time.) While in the anime, he’s become the stand-in for Hamayu. The writer altered the dialogue and scenes to fit to Yukiya, a sort of Jiminy Cricket to Wakamiya. His assistant through and through.

The barriers

Instead of setting up a screen between the Prince and the princesses, Anime*Wakamiya has once again broken the protocol that he can see them and talk to them without the bamboo curtains. (He is allowed to break the rules, but the candidates cannot.)

Shiratama

Honestly, this is the most heartwarming scene in the 12th episode. It is not a big smile, but Wakamiya has done so, perhaps relieved, seeing that Shiratama has finally listened to her heart, while Yukiya is beaming watching his cousin reunited with her lover Kazumi. The bluffing has worked, even though Yukiya thinks it is an overkill while Wakamiya insists they haven’t done the deed yet. Anyway, he has done the scrutiny with so much care and respect. He was not as brutal as in the manga where calling her out was actually a push for her to think of her own mind.

He is exercising his right to be a just ruler here, which he at first was not so sure of how would it turn out.

Yukiya: What are you trying to get out of this choice?

Wakamiya: I wonder. Heaven knows how this will go.

But in the end, he’s begun to weigh both sides, give advices, tell it what it is, and encourage Shiratama and Masuho no Susuki to see what are their other opportunities other than marrying him.

It is true that he also doesn’t have a good opinion on Sakura Blossom Palace due to what transpired and/or is transpiring there. For him it stands for prison, of human follies, a snake pit, of the way humans drag each other down to the point of wishing the other harm, powerful men using young women as mere tools to advance power and influence. He knows it because his own mother had been one.

From the novel:

The wind was fluttering the young master's black hair. His face was white in the moonlight. A handsome, unpleasant person. But affectionate. Yukiya looked at the prince for a long time and spoke cautiously a little later.

“I know that my words will sound cowardly now. But Shiratama from the North House is my cousin... When I found out that Your Highness cares about the hearts of the daughters of the four houses, I felt lighter in my heart. After all, you don't consider them as tools in the political struggle.”

He's wilful, no doubt. Sharp, often misunderstood. But being with him turned out to be not bad at all.

(Note: this isn’t an official EN translation)

Masuho no Susuki

Because they changed so much from the manga, I guess we have to wait what will happen in the upcoming episodes concerning Masuho no Susuki.

(In the novel, she wrote to Wakamiya to personally come to the Sakura Blossom Palace, asked Sumio to find Hamayū and when he did Masuho kept her in her entourage secretly.)

The way Wakamiya asks the candidates if they can foresee a future with him as his empress is devoid of romanticism. He doesn’t mince words nor let them expect heaven when it is not.

One gets the impression that he really doesn’t want to get married. It is just a stupid rule that he must have a consort when he ascends the throne.

Did I say that I love Masuho’s hairstyle? Yes, I do!

Asebi

It is amusing to read the shocked comments from the Team Asebi fans. (Sorry!) The Girl has fooled many with her demure and innocent, yet naive, face.

From Asebi’s VA, Rina Honnizumi:

Asebi is very lovely, and it makes you think, “This kind of child is called a princess,” and has a charm that makes you want to protect her. But when I auditioned, I read the original work and said, “I see, this kind of girl!” The way she looks is quite different at the beginning and at the end.

Many people still don’t want to believe that she is not what everyone thinks she is. Behind this face is a wily young woman ready to crush everyone who is on her way. And we all thought it was Shiratama.

On the other hand, her half sister, Futaba, has entered the list of characters officially. Poor girl, who suffered in the hands of her own sister.

The way Asebi answers Wakamiya, “no matter what the cost,” her cunningness, and her clear discrimination between the court ravens and hill ravens, you cannot simply excuse her ignorance. Neither Wakamiya. He hates her from the bottom of his heart. We will find out more next week the reasons he does. And it seems that it is ominous as the sound director posted on X that they “deliberately left out the music for the preview of the next episode.”

Hamayu

I am curious how will they reintroduce her to the story. Are they preparing for her mini-arc? Will they follow the novel/manga but with a different twist?

The fluttering cherry blossoms

They symbolise two different things and always in tune with the music. They can be flying softly, dancing around the characters (a positive realisation) or hitting them harshly when the wind blows (signals danger, distress).

What a nice touch.

[eyesofanapothecarian]

[eleanore-delphinium]

The End of the Life of A Vampire & A Witch in the Woods

AO3 LINK :

The End of the Life of A Vampire & A Witch in the Woods FF.net : The End of the Life of A Vampire & A Witch in the Woods

~.~.~.~.~.~

The sneak peek, I posted previously.

She sighed and looked at him with a soft smile, “Anywhere with you.”

He felt like his chest blossomed at her words, “l will be happy.” He finished the thought for her.

It was something they did. It was their thing.

[athenadione]

😍😍😍

I love the al Ghul villain aesthetic, but have you ever considered a villain AU where Raven has accepted her role as Trigon's daughter and Damian is her human consort? I feel like I only ever seen a villain AU on the al Ghul side of things, but Raven has so much potential as a badass demoness with Damian as her lover! I love your art style and would love to see your interpretation of this concept if it speaks to you

Yessss! I love this idea and I’ve thought about it before. Yes the Al Ghul villain AU is a given, but there are a lot of creative possibilities with the reverse side.

Perhaps when scouting for a consort, Raven insists she will not settle for anything but the best. She is picky, as no human could possibly be good enough for her. Trigon sees potential in using the LOA for his agenda, so Damian Al Ghul is presented to her. Raven is instantly smitten with him. Since in this light she’s the murderous daughter of Trigon, she absolutely adores Damian’s assassin capabilities as well as his military leadership skills. His loyalty to her is unwavering and despite the politics of the marriage, they also actually end up falling deeply in love with each other. Sometimes things just work out 😂

[prerodinu]

In the spirit of boyfriend day, Raven's just gonna drape himself across Rarlith's lap. A gentle purr rumbling in his chest as he adjusted himself, lilac gaze slowly blinking up at the other.

❝  hey, Starlight.  ❞

He took his time, enjoying the feel of his mate sprawled across his lap. Really any day with the other in his grasp was enough for him. Clawed-tipped fingers gently ran through Rae's hair, gently massaging the strands and making sure he got out any knots no matter how short.

"Hello, Aisliel." He purred the word to the other, leaning down to place a soft and gentle kiss upon Rae's features. "Shall we just relax today or do something, more, extra with our time?" He teased but felt the way his body was curling up closer to the other as if begging to touch and lick and kiss.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

I have a request for Jacaerys Velaryon x reader. They have been married for some time, but Jace still had feelings for Baela. He has never cheated and was always respectful towards reader, though. Jacaerys and her performed their duties and eventually she got pregnant. The fact that reader is now carrying his child makes them grow closer and Jace starts to fall in love with his wife.

For this one, the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s children was called into question and there was no betrothals between Rhaenyra’s boys and Daemon’s twins.

Warnings: pregnancy (I don't like pregnancies when I read/write, but this one was okay and mostly a small part of the story)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When King Viserys fell, a prince showed up to your home and asked your mother, Jeyne Arryn, for her support to Princess — now Queen — Rhaenyra’s claim. In her message, Rhaenyra didn’t fail to mention her mother, Aemma of House Arryn, and remind Lady Jeyne that she shared Arryn blood through her. Your mother was hesitant, knowing her support would make Daemon Targaryen king consort, but she couldn’t give her support to the Greens. So, she agreed but demanded to get something in exchange: a husband for her only daughter.

You didn’t like the idea of being sold for politics, but according to your mother it was part of being a woman. 

Married life wasn’t bad like you thought. Jacaerys was a respectful and kind man, but there was one problem: he had feelings for another. 

You didn’t take long to notice that his heart was elsewhere. It was written in the silence. The way he looked at Baela, the way he smiled at her — a special smile he kept just for her. He had undeniable feelings for her. You begged for attention, time, acknowledgment, but Jacaerys was never fully with you. Him and Baela spent a lot of time together riding their dragons together or practicing High Valyrian in the great hall, which left you hurt and jealous. Other than the red gem on your finger that matched the one of his cloak-pin, you had nothing in common. 

Sitting in your chamber, you held a necklace of your house’s sigil. The gold was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth. You hadn't seen your mother since the beginning of the war and you missed her dearly. You exchanged messages by raven, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in person. 

A tear slipped down your cheek, wishing for this war to be over soon. 

The door of your chambers creaked open, snapping you out of your sorrowful reverie. You glanced over your shoulder and saw Jacaerys in his armor after a day spent teaching the dragonseeds. It was a smart idea to get more dragons and riders on their side, but also a lot of work. 

‘’What are you doing?’’ he asked, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.  

‘’Missing home, that’s all,’’ you replied, quickly wiping the tear away and forcing a smile. The weight of the necklace seemed heavier than ever as you clutched it in your hand.

Jacaerys stepped further into the room, running a hand through his tousled hair. He crossed the space between you in a few strides, his expression softening. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ He wiped your tear and sat next to you. ‘’I’ll take you to the Vale when it’s safe,’’ Jacaerys promised, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. ‘’I would take you now if it wasn’t so dangerous to fly over Kingsroad. The Greens have taken Harrenhal and—’’ 

‘’Is my mother okay? You promised you would send a dragon to watch over my home.’’  

He nodded. ‘’Rhaena left this morning with Joffrey and three dragon eggs. They should hatch soon and assure more protection to the Vale.’’ 

You let out a shaky breath, the news offering a small measure of relief. 

A few moons later, you announced to Jacaerys that you were pregnant. It was a surprise as you only had the occasion to lay together two times, but it’s been two moons since you last bled and the maester confirmed your suspicions. You were with child. 

The timing was not ideal, but the Queen was beyond happy for you and Jacaerys. She hosted a small feast in your honor, and made everyone keep your pregnancy a secret. Jacaerys was her heir, making your baby his heir. If the news got to their ears, she feared you would become a target for the Greens.

At the table, Baela congratulated you with a smile. You thought she would be bitter, but she was genuinely happy for you. 

As the weeks went by, the walls that once stood between you began to crumble and you and Jacaerys started getting closer. He would spend more time in the evening in your chambers, talking by the hearth while eating lemon tarts. And ask how the baby was although your stomach was barely round every time he returned from teaching the dragonseeds. 

You’ll never forget the look on his face when felt the baby move for the first time. The stars of complete amazement. He kissed you that night — a real kiss. 

On the seventh moon, as you were getting ready for your bath, you felt blood dripping down your leg.  Terrified, you asked one of the servants to fetch the maester and the Queen. She had other — more pressing — business to take care of, but you needed the reassurance of a mother by your side.

The news ran through the castle and made it way to Jacaerys, who dropped everything he was doing and ran through the corridors of Dragonstone to get to you. 

His face pale with worry when he bursted in your chamber, thinking you were going to lose the baby like his mother did. An early bleeding was how it started. 

‘’I’m fine, Jace. Maester Gerardys said bleeding can happen,’’ you said, taking his hand and pressing it over your belly. ‘’Our baby is fine.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[the20thangel]

The Vow

Summary: Request: I was wondering if you could write something with Benji and Targaryen reader. She's like the apple of her parent's eye and nervous about marrying Benji and if he would be good to her. And loyal, like she's very scared that he would go and have bastards or mistress. She doesn't want an unhappy marriage. She's very insecure, and Benji reassures her that he will worship the ground she walks on and she will be the only one he ever beds.

word count: 1.9K

Masterlist

As you stood before the mirror, your fingers fidgeted with the rings, a nervous habit inherited from your mother. You gazed at your reflection, a vision of beauty. Your luscious white hair was elegantly pulled into a loose bun, with a few strands delicately framing your round face. Your eyes, a mesmerizing shade of lilac, were accentuated with light makeup that made them stand out. You were adorned in a stunning, vibrant red gown with golden accents. Despite the maids' admiring sighs, you couldn't muster any excitement. 

 On the day of your wedding, your nerves were in a frenzy. Despite your parents' attempts to reassure you, you couldn’t shake off the worry. You knew little about the man you were about to marry. Lord Benjicot Blackwood, the young lord who fought bravely alongside his aunt Black Aly and Lord Cregan Stark during the war. You knew your mother owed her throne to them, and in gratitude, she had betrothed you to him. But all you heard were stories of Bloody Ben, a monster on the battlefield, and armies trembling at the lad's name. The weight of this uncertainty was a heavy burden on your heart. 

You were shocked when you heard the stories and the news of your betrothal. You couldn’t understand how your parents could ever give your hand to someone described like that. Then your father, King-Consort Daemon, explained to everyone in the public how he was known as the Rouge Prince, but they didn’t know his true self. He asked you if you believed in all the stories spread about him, which you vehemently denied. Your father was brash and rude when he talked to his enemies, but he was a protective dragon to his family, making sure his family was happy and safe. Your father smiled and said, then do not believe everything about Benjioct. Speaking in favor of the raven lord. You nodded, saying how you would try. 

Now, you weren’t worried about him being cruel. No, you were worried about him being unfaithful. Dragons, like your family, don’t do well when people try to steal things belonging to them. You were the same, and you worried that Benjicot would only see your marriage as a duty. Finding happiness, pleasure, and companionship in the arms of another. This fear of an unhappy marriage, of not being able to handle such a betrayal, was something that kept you awake at night, a constant source of anxiety. 

As your maids and handmaidens finished, your mother, Queen Rhaenyra, walked in. Gracing you with her beautiful smile, she walked behind you, embracing you as she kissed your cheek chastly. Holding you close to her made you smile and close your eyes in contentment. Your bond with your mother was stronger than any of your siblings. She could know your millions of thoughts from one glance at your face, so she held you tight to her, giving you the comfort you desperately wanted. 

“He’s a good lad, my sweet girl. Honorable, fierce, and just. He would rather feed himself to your dragon than betray you.” she whispered, trying to erase your fears. 

As you nodded, you didn’t know if you were a way to assure her or yourself into believing the statement. You wanted to believe in your parents' statements, but you were still worried. You hardly knew this man, and in a few minutes, you would be his wife. You would not only be a Princess but the new lady of House Blackwood. The pressure was building inside of you. As you finished readying yourself, a servant came in, letting the Queen and Princess know that the wolf's hour had arrived and it was time to start the wedding. 

Taking a deep breath, you wrap your arm around your mother’s arms as the two walk into Godswood, where the ceremony will be taking place. Today was a more intimate ceremony, since House Blackwood followed the ways of the First Men and Old gods. Your family decided to honor the Blackwoods by having a ceremony in the old ways, marrying infront of a hearttree. 

As you walked down the corridors to reach Godswood, your family slowly started coming together, each holding a torch to light the way. Once entering Godswood stood your future husband, bringing you a first surprise. Instead of wearing red and black, his house colors. Benjicot Blackwood stood infront of the hearttree wearing pure black with gold accents, completing your dress beautifully. As the Blackwood members turned to the Targaryen family, they couldn’t help but gasp at the sight, power, and beauty of the Valryians. 

Your family took the other side of the aisle while you and your father, Daemon, waited for the signal from Cregan Stark, who would officiate the ceremony. Once you saw the slight nod from the wolf lord, your father took your arm, giving your hand a light squeeze as you both began your trek down the aisle, meeting your betrothed in the middle. 

“ Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” 

Daemon straightened himself, presenting the daunting regal Targaryen he is; Princess (Name) of the House Targaryen comes here to be wed. A woman grown trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods.” 

Cregan nodded as he turned to Benjicot, who grinned at his beautiful bride. “ Who comes to claim her?” 

Benjicot inhaled as he stared at his future wife and good father, “Benjicot Blackwood, of House Blackwood, lord to Raventree Hall. 

“Who gives her?” asked Cregan, looking at both a Daemon and Rhaenyra. 

“Daemon Targaryen, Her father and King- Consort of the seven kingdoms of House Targaryen of Old Valyria, ” proudly stated Daemon. 

You smiled slightly, turning to look at your future husband. He was quite handsome and lean, but you can see the outline of muscles around his body. Benjicot noticed your staring and gave you a smirking grin, causing your face to heat up. 

Your staring is broken by Cregan asking you, “Name, do you take this man?” 

You gulped, feeling the nerves coming back. Glancing behind him, you saw how intently House Blackwood stared at you, causing the nerves to worsen. Benjicot, noticing this, frowned slightly. He knew his family could be intense and wished that he could glare to ease them back. You took a shaky breath, smiling wryly at Cregan first before turning to Benjioct, reaching out with your hand as you stated. 

 “I take this man.” 

Benjicot reached to take your hand, giving it a slight kiss, gracing you with a warm smile as Cregan asked the the Targaryen princess and Raven lord to kneel. Then asking for the group to stay silent for a few minutes for prayer.  As you and Benjicot kneeled in front of the hearttree, you stared at the crying face, asking the Old gods to please bless her marriage, that Benjicot remained loyal to her and her only. After a few minutes, the couple stood as Aly Blackwood stepped forward, providing the marriage cloak. Benjicot removed your maiden cloak passing it off, before he took the marriage cloak, cloaking you with the proud Blackwood sigil of the weirwood tree and ravens. As Benjicot stood infront of his beautiful wife, he took your face into his hands, caressing your reach as he leaned in. Kissing you with sweetness and softly sealing their union in the eyes of the Old gods. 

As the rest of both Blackwood and Targaryen families went back inside, Benjicot held your hand firm, singling you to stay. Tensing, you turned to your husband, trying your best to give him your best smile. 

Benjicot smiled, kissing your cheek, trying to ease your tension, “I was hoping that we could speak before heading inside, my princess.” 

You nodded, biting your bottom lip, wondering what he might want to speak about. 

Benjicot stared at you, trying to memorize your beauty under the moon light, his breath being constantly taken away. 

“I know our wedding came as a surprise to you and so quickly…we might not know each other, but I’m hoping this coming moon, we take the time to understand each other and what we expect from this marriage.” 

You froze, was this it? Was he going to tell you now that he was going to have a mistress in the marriage?

Benjicot seeing your demeanor, quickly comforted you. 

“No, sweet girl, I meant that I want this marriage to bring you happiness just like I feel.” 

These words confused you; tilting your head, you asked, “What do you mean, my lord?” 

Grinning, he brought a hand to your cheek, “Ever since I saw you during the war, I have been taken by you. You are beautiful and cunning. Your sharp wit and fearless dragon-riding skills made me admire you from afar. When your mother made the betrothal between us, I felt immense joy at the chance you be married to you. Alas, though, seeing your tension and nervousness around these past few days, I fear the rumors about me have made you weary of me.”  

You quickly shook your head. Taking his other hand and holding it close to your chest, you defended yourself. 

“No, my lord, I- the rumors are just that, rumors; my mother and father assured me that you are an honorable, dutiful, wonderful young man. I believe my parents would never agree to our marriage if you were not kind and respectful. I…” 

You paused, unsure how to go on the way to ask..command..plead for him to always stay loyal in your marriage, no bastards, no mistresses. Benjicot, seeing you hesitate again, placed his forehead on yours and took you into his arms. This caused you to gasp, having such an intimate gesture.

“Go ahead and ask my princess; I shall not get offended,” Ben requested, staring at your beautiful eyes. 

As you, too, stared at his stormy eyes, you saw the softness in them, “I- I only have one request, my lord, which I feel will make this marriage a truly happy one. I ask that you always stay loyal to me and our marriage. That you forsake the thought of mistresses.” 

Ben smiled at you, leaning down to place a kiss quickly before whispering for your ears only. 

“That is an easy promise. No other woman can ever compare to you, my beautiful dragon-riding wife. I would rather feed myself to all of your family’s dragons than ever think of betraying you. I will stay with you entirely until my last days, living with you, respecting you, comforting you, and fighting for you. I swear this on the old gods and new and the fourteen flames…So much I promise this, it was meant as a surprise but I want you to believe in my vow fully. I ask your parents that tomorrow we have a Valyrian ceremony, blood-bonding us together. Like your dragons usually bond one rider at a time and mate with one mate forever, I want to bind myself to you. That I may become yours forever.” 

As he finished his vows, he studied your shocked face. Hearing his vow to you made your heart beat faster, and you finally allowed happiness to bloom in your chest. Giggling, you leaned up to kiss him, wrapping your arms around your husband. Benjicot smiled into your kiss, continuing to kiss you a few minutes more before you stepped back a bit, staring at his eyes as you reached to trace the scar on his lip. You made your vow to him.

“I vow to love you and only you, Benjicot Blackwood, until the end of my days. I want to be blood-bonded with you.”

[tabithacerberus]

Got the video up on the last cosplay I made in 2023. The Raven Consort from Raven of the Inner Palace. It was one of my fav animes that came out this year and I just loved the character! I am still waiting for the wig to come in to finish the jewelry pieces. I will probably do a video on that as well because I love make jewelry!

[controld3vil]

𝗖𝗥𝗬𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗟𝗘 (II)

𝘀𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗠

pairing(s): jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader, aemond "one eye" targaryen x targ!reader (you are daemon and laena's firstborn)

synopsis: You arrive at Harrenhal seeking to reconcile with your father, only to find his disastrous decisions have caused chaos. The grief over your grandmother’s death casts a dark shadow, making any prospect of recovery seem bleak.

notes: daemon fr had to face some of his demons at riverrun lol. but on a side note, be aware this is much more story dense. cw: daemon being a bad dad:(

Daemon awoke to the dawn’s harsh light, his dreams of uniting the fractured memories already unraveling in the cold grip of reality. His morning was not one of renewal but of stark reminders: the promises broken, the alliances fraying, and the ever-looming threat of rebellion. As he stared out over the restless waters, the weight of his failures pressed down upon him, each wave taunting the unity he still sought but had yet to achieve.

His days became numbered and restless very quickly. The Rogue Prince’s patience falters as he stomps down Harrenhal’s halls, they are looming with light and motionless calmness. Dark Sister is strung by his side, clinging to his belt and waist. When will it end? What could possibly make his day any worse?

“Dragon!”

A distant envoy’s screech. Oh, he’s heard. Anyone who dared to come to Harrenhal would know of his prowess simply because Caraxes await them. No matter foe or friend, Daemon grips his Valyrian blade tightly before turning toward the Weirwood tree. Caraxes usually resided near the old tree, it was wide and unbound by anywhere else in the castle. Undoubtedly, he would sense his rider’s stride, gradually becoming anticipated hungry for battle.

Despite his commanding presence, he is stopped by a small servant who wobbles his feet uneasily. My prince! They holler when he does not mean to halt, ignoring the random babbles from the man’s mouth. “Lord Simon Strong requests your presence!” A feverish shiver as the servant trembles under the gaze of Daemon. King Consort to Queen Rhaenyra. Yet here, alone with his dragon, he should be considered King. 

“It seems we have company though,” The silver-haired swordsman blatantly takes no notice of the servant’s distress. It would be the least of Simon Strong’s problems if Daemon would deal with the unannounced dragon rider. But the castellan had a knack for appearing at the most inopportune moments. Should he leave now to deal with the foreign enemy, he wouldn’t have to meet with Lord Strong at all. The Rogue Prince had magnifying eyes. His lavender orbs pierced the man with intensity and undeclared rage. It felt suffocating to be looked under as the servant could only muster a feeble plea, hands scrambling together to keep his calm. 

“It- It is your daughter who was seen!” Your name was pronounced, oddly by the man’s tongue. It is you who he wishes for to soothe Daemon’s grievances. In response, the possible emergence of the prince’s benevolence could perspire. Still, it was unlikely that King Viserys' brother would abide simply because of his king's presence. For his daughter, the man could only anticipate so. “Her dragon resides on the other side of the Keep! And she wishes for an audience with you and Lord Strong…” 

Wonderful.

Perhaps, in the absence of the Black Council, he has grown irritated and longing for a sense of direction. He lacks it here clearly. No Riverlord would consider his commands even if they were put down to be eaten by Caraxes. This was how stubborn Southerners were. They are adamant to follow the old ways, never embracing the new. In turn, they’ve become grumpy old men and women.

You sure made a grand entrance which terrified most of the people in the castle. Daemon can only assume you came under Rhaenyra’s obligation. Why else? It has been days since he left Dragonstone without a word or raven. The Council must’ve spiraled into madness without their most skilled warrior by their table. A permanent scowl was on his face as Daemon treaded heavily to the Grand hall. His mind is blinded with thoughts, as his judgment deters. The swift clatter of the double doors being pushed and bouncing as they close is unmistakable.

An unpleasant frown was on the face of Daemon as he entered unprecedentedly. “What are you doing here?” You did not move from your position, bizarrely calm, and in doing so sat on the edge of one of the chairs accompanied by Lord Strong. The castellan himself is seated beside you, with his usual robes and heavy garments. Pure vexation was what you heard from Daemon’s accent. Whether it was directed at you or Lord Strong, both of you felt the underlying intensity a man of the Rogue prince’s caliber can do. 

You rise, with a grim expression. “I came here to help you,” Now Daemon sees it. Your expression was hardened by the stoic frown and concentrated stare. It was like staring into the eyes of a viper. Alluring and dangerous as it was, Daemon rarely witnessed this side of you. It is plain how distinct you are from your sisters, Baela and Rhaena. You were all of the blood of the dragon, yet it was your heart and soul that resembled the Rogue Prince’s ambitious nature. 

“Harrenhal has been handled,” He scoffs, advancing in the manner reminiscent of an irritated cat. The rhythm of his steps was concise and slow like he would approach a troubled animal.  

“Then why has it taken you so long to return home?” You snap, and the lines of your disappointed pout are apparent now. Indeed was the harsh blaze of daylight that hit your face perfectly. It accentuates your bright-hued view, fondly. Knowing the gods, they have blessed you with a burning spirit and charm. Your coin has flipped long ago. And Daemon sees for the first time what will become of your destiny. “Have you not heard? Rhaenys died at the battle of Rook’s Rest against Cole’s army!”

Daemon believes you would become mad if you hadn’t left Dragonstone. Grasping your inherent qualities, a death such as Rhaenys would devastate you. And it has, for how much time has passed since the Battle of Rook’s Rest he had no idea, but confirmed that you came here out of your own volition. What you intend to do is something he hasn’t foreseen yet. 

A deafening silence passes when your father says nothing in response to your anger. But then he says, “She did what had to be done.” A soft-spoken retribution on Daemon’s part. His gaze follows your shallow breath when you sniffle laboriously. A prominent shine is transparent on top of your eyes. You did your best to stay restrained in front of your father. Your appearance brought bitter news along with an imprinted image of his daughter’s unfortunate disintegration. 

Seemingly his words struck a chord in you. “And what have you done?” Sneering, you disregard the ache in your chest to pursue your father further of his drawn-out disappearance. More than ever, you needed him. You needed Daemon, your father there to comfort you. Especially then when victory is forfeited in the worst-case scenario. You weren’t there. And you felt even more compelled to define every mistake he has made. The murder, the destruction, and the divide. “Nothing!”

“Mind your tongue,” He snaps when Daemon is suddenly provoked by your words of spite. 

Your head shifts, intimidatingly. “No! Because while you ransacked innocents with the Southern lords, Rhaenys fled and defended a lord at our council!” You clenched your fisted hands, restraining your further temper. “It’s barbaric.”

“Well we need to be ruthless to win a war, don’t we?” Daemon guffs, his hand landing in the familiar space where his Vaylrian blade was. It was his way to warn you. To dominate and show you he is superior despite your lineage. “You are a child. What do you know of war? I presume nothing because your actions have demonstrated ignorance and naivety.” 

“I’m not a child!”

“Yes, you are!” Your father authoritatively steps forward and merely breathes away from your own. “You are naive and weak like one! You lash out when you see fit and choose to lament when the lords have something else to give you!” Word by word, and piece by piece, you can feel your heart shatter. You’re silent, unable to mumble another word to your father, afraid and rectified by his brutal dispute. You are young but the blood of the dragon ran thick. You were just like your father when he wanted to please and grab his brother’s attention. You were desperate to find the comforts of him yet found yourself left abandoned and cast off. 

The tears you had been holding were free now. An overwhelming amount flooded your vision as you dared not to turn away from your father’s relentless gaze. Even though he knew, his words were harsh and sharp. Under further silence, Daemon notices the tremble of your lips and puffed cheeks. His heart crumbles with guilt but he does not so much as return an apologetic gesture. 

Perhaps in your distorted view, you did catch his slight hesitation. Nevertheless, you paid no heed and dashed out of the room before the guards could open the doors. The absence of your presence left a regretful mark on Daemon’s chest as he dismissed Lord Strong’s pleas entirely.

And not far from the Weirwood, a sound resembling Sheepstealer’s cry can be heard.

No defiance was left unchecked in your family. You figured this out long before you left Pentos with a heavy heart. When your mother was alive, she and your father were avid parents. Happy and easily pleased with their three daughters. You could not remember when your relationship faltered as badly as now. Disobedience was something foreign as the consequence of your peaceful time in the East. On the contrary, you were more distant with your sisters and father than ever before. You spoke less as the days passed. Barely offering a fleeting look of solace, that not even your father could reassure. 

For the rest of your time, you became oddly acquitted with Lord Strong and his men. He was a timid character but all of most, welcoming of your presence and cooperation. Much contrast to the Rogue Prince, you were at least willing to seek out the other lords of the River lands and speak on reasonable terms. 

“I do appreciate your service, Princess,” The castellan meekly grins as the two of you stroll in unison to the ancient Weirwood tree. A magnificent monument and staple of the castle of Harrenhal you had heard. For generations, the tree had spouted its roots deeply into the defiled castle like a parasite, relying on its nutrients to stay alive. You acknowledged how important the old ways were with the old folk and Southern houses. It was their way of living and for many was what they relied on during these times of turmoil. “Much was needed after your father’s arrival, I’m afraid. I wasn’t sure if sending a raven to the Queen would’ve been necessary.”

A grim sigh escaped your breath. “I’m glad to be of service, Lord Strong. I’m sure after today, we can put all this behind us.” A passive promise, as you weren’t sure if the River Houses would be willing to listen to you. Surely the daughter of the King consort’s would bring attention to some. However, Daemon’s actions as of late became a domino effect in causing distrust and provocation with the lords. 

“I do hope so,” Lord Strong’s feeble words meant nothing to you. The eerie entrance of the garden itself was dreary and dry. Dead leaves scattered all across the floors. Empty and broken carts of nothing were laid to be disregarded. And in the far center, was the Weirwood tree, standing tall and glum. It was the most spectacular sight you had seen since arriving at Harrenhal. Its luscious red leaves were full of life and blood. The many faces on the tree, each resembling a different person with a different story. Out of everything, it was the only thing that gave you security and clarity.

The Weirwood tree itself was essential to many people of Westeros. Whether they worshiped the old gods or new, it stood as a staple, to allow empathy for those who know they are watching. And you knew the gods were watching you. 

In front of the majestic timber, was a young boy. Most likely close to the age of Lucerys if you had imagined. He was a meek and wide-eyed little thing. Wearing the sigil of House Tully, he carried those prominent features a Tully should have. Red curly hair and honest blue eyes. 

“Princess,” The boy welcomes, stepping forward, timidly. He utters your name in respect and soft admiration. “Welcome to the Riverlands, I am Oscar Tully, heir and lord of House Tully.”

You halt before glancing behind at Lord Strong with a soothing nod. The castellan takes it valiantly, returning with a tender smile. He returns to close the doors before walking back inside the castle. Both you and the Tully boy stood alone outside with the winds and distant tides now. 

“The pleasure is mine, Lord Tully,” You say, attempting your best to appeal more invitingly. More pleasant and sincere at his hospitality. The strained guilt you feel for the destruction constructed by Daemon makes your chest heave heavily. It was not your doing but you regardless were remorseful for the chaos the Southerners must have endured. “Never in my lifetime was I blessed to visit the River lands. And now that I’m here, it’s obvious that Harrenhal was never my first choice.”

The boy laughs. “Yes, well Harrenhal certainly has that kind of reputation,” Oscar smiles cheekily as though relieved and infatuated at your calmer personality and aid. He was ignorant to believe you would be like your father. Of course, the resemblance was uncanny. However luckily, you did not pout and have a commanding tone with your words. Rather you were calm and docile like a majestic wolf from the North. Oscar cannot seem to pinpoint it but there is a magnetic ease he feels when you gaze at him with your keen eyes. “But on other matters, I hope you’re aware of the certain situations with the Riverland army?”

“Of course,” An exaggerated groan as you crossed your hands behind your back to cruise around the abandoned garden. The leather black boots you wore gave you easy access away from the mud and dirt. You neared closer to the heir of House Tully. “Has my father considered instating the terms you have given to him?”

Knowing Daemon, an apology was out of the question. He was a man of action. The Rogue Prince demonstrated as much when he burned some of the Bracken men for not bending their knees. The least he can do is force his hand and then have to negotiate with them with reasonable terms. Though your father has always been a difficult man. 

A delayed cough comes from the boy. “I’m not afraid not, Princess.” Almost as if afraid of how you might react to his failed attempts. There was no reason to be scared yet it was an accidental reflex on his part to estimate the Princess of Dragonstone. 

“Then what are your terms?” Your attention was entirely on the Weirwood tree. You see the leaking red blood dripping from the many faces and you can feel the nervous energy from the boy. “I’ll agree to them as long as you accept and do your part to assemble the lords of the River lands.” 

Oscar looks at you, startled. “I- Our terms… Well then I suppose justice.” You meet his sapphire blue one, as captivating and electric as your deep indigo pools. Much resembling the night sky. “Your father has condemned one of the lords to treason and outright murder. I believe as a Southerner, a follower of the old ways, that he should stand for his crimes.” A courageous feat on his part which you could not help but respect. A boy as young as he is now holds the responsibility of many Houses. They all look to House Tully for guidance and Oscar is now their precedent ruler. 

“Then that is done,” You shrugged with a nonchalant pout. Simply one man to face his crimes was enough to receive the largest army. Then you should have it. It was something Daemon would most likely not accommodate. His bowing and agreeing on someone’s terms was not his style. He needed to have something more out of the bargain. Still, you’ve grown restless of your father and needed the army urgently. “See that Lord Blackwood be executed here by the Weirwood tree when all of the lords are present. Should they be convinced we do not tolerate murder and anarchy, they can be a witness of the beheading.” You shake your head, with a smile. 

The Tully boy feels a chill run down his spine. "I appreciate how accommodating you've been given our situation, Princess." He feels flustered but at the same time, relieved. He did not expect this was how your conversation would pan out. But he was pleasantly surprised and would honorably accept your terms. He would only hope now that your father could comply and that you would persuade him on the matter. 

With a brief nod, your fixed stare turns to Oscar’s House sigil. He wears it proudly on his chest, carved out of leather, an imprint of a trout, jumping out of the water. “Tully's honor their promises, so I only ask you to do the same.” 

He stands there, looking in awe at you. He doesn’t so much as return with a stutter, as if not catching you the first time. His delayed response makes Oscar regain himself and clear his throat. “Please forgive me, Princess, but you are not what I had anticipated from the daughter of the Rogue Prince and King Consort to the Queen..."

Unexpectedly, you chuckled, much to the Riverland Lord’s expectation. Gods, why were you so unpredictable? Not to mention, your laughter was rather magnetic to listen to. How could he resist a princess such as yourself, who rides the wild dragon, Sheepstealer, and has a father as one of the most pronounced fighters alive?

House Targaryen in its history had many beautiful women and men over the years of their reign as Rulers of Westeros. They were known for their profound and striking qualities, signaling out any other candidate for beauty charm. You embody it wholly, with the way you stand and present yourself. You’re courageous and strong-willed, admirable talents anyone should have. For Oscar Tully, it fascinates him. 

“Then what do you think I would be like?” You’re intrigued, giving a sly smile when you beam at his shy and embarrassed state. It had been some time since you felt this giddy. Since Lucerys death, your family has dealt with another grief. Then came the death of King Viserys which shifted entirely your lives to madness. You never did have enough time to grieve. Even for your mother, you considered it now, no one would let you rest and had always expected you to be fine with things.

Maybe that was the reason why you refused to visit Dragonstone many times before. When Rhaenyra married Daemon, you were obligated to live in the ancient Targaryen home with them. Even though you complied, you never stayed long, always finding ways to be on Driftmark with your sister and grandparents. It was a way to distract your mind and soul. You did not want to be in the same room as Daemon. So perhaps Corlys and Rhaenys truly felt more like your parents. 

Oscar looks at the tips of his feet, unable to meet your penetrating periwinkle gaze. “I don’t know. I- I thought you would be more aligned with your father.” He raises his tone slightly on the last part, unsure if his words meant offense to you. “And I apologize, I mean no offense!”

“And you’re not wrong to believe so,” Your tone teased, indifferent to how you glanced at him, endearing and eternal much like a sapphire, cherished by the island of Tarth.

Jacaerys was worried for you. He could not understand why you would be so reckless to leave Dragonstone with Sheepstealer. There was war! For all he knew, you could’ve already been killed airborne alongside your wild dragon. But he digresses, the Prince of Dragonstone should not underestimate your worth as a dragon rider and aggressive nature. You were careless but knew how to ride a Sheepstealer well, everyone else couldn’t. 

Regardless, you were his betrothed. The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! You should not fly in this condition! He would tell you if you had been still present and he berated you around the castle like an annoying servant. He would have it, Jacaerys could not stand not knowing of your well-being. News from Harrenhal? No raven has been flown there since Daemon’s disappearance. You were driving him mad and you were not even aware of it! 

The Queen’s son paced around his room, exhausted. Your leave did not surprise his mother, which as expected he should’ve anticipated. You and Daemon. Two born from the same blood and now, he understands what his mother felt when he left for Harrenhal. You do as you please, he supposes. Though most of the time he knew of you, it was ever unlikely for you to be so daring. You were brash but never went as far as abandoning your home. Jacaerys feels a small sort of guilt for not letting you leave. He willingly let you. He isn’t sure if you have some sort of sorcery against him or more so he cannot control you as much as you do to him, but the crowned prince still thinks of you. 

He can still recall the day he and you were renowned as betroths. It was the hearing for the heir of Driftmark. The entire hall was consumed by people and servants. The iron throne sat in the center, all and menacingly. His mother stood by his side while Lucerys and Rhaena were slightly behind. Alongside Daemon who lurked around the crowds, watching everyone. On the other side was Rhaenys Targaryen, the standing figure for Corlys Velaryon. You and Baela were behind her, always so close to each other. Your presence comforted one another as it did to him. 

“It was ever my husband’s decision to pass Driftmark to our son, Laenor, and his son, Lucerys,” Rhaenys confidently speaks in front of the Hand of the King as Otto’s daughter can only frown in silence. While the rest of the crowd stayed awning. “And Princess Rhaenyra had just proposed to her two sons to be wedded to Laena’s daughters,” She motions to you and Baela. And when he catches a glimpse of you, butterflies flutters. As you meet his eye with a cheeky smile. “Which I wholeheartedly agree.”

The looks you gave to one another spoke greater volume than the words from your mouths. Jacaerys understood that yes, you were satisfied with the marriage proposal, And he was as well. You two couldn’t be more relieved and happier. You had always assumed he would marry your cousin, Helaena. However Alicent claimed she was to be married to her older brother, Aegon, you believed the odds of it happening to be more promising. And it has. 

Also across where you stood from the throne, Aemond’s eye catches your elevated expression. Those simple words of your engagement troubled him. So much so that he could feel the vexation that began to build in his chest. It was unlike the second son to feel this emotional towards marriage. He always avoided the subject. But somehow when you became the topic, his mind suddenly scrambled into mush and his attention followed you willingly. 

It was more obvious when dinner came. His cold stare pierced the side of your head as you continued to converse with your sisters. You sat beside Jacaery as promised. It irks Aemond immensely to see you happily and comfortably with his sister’s bastard. It was unfair and unjust. Just how was he considered legitimated as a Targaryen? He had no characteristics of his ancestors, only those of his father. Harwin Strong. The one-eyed prince made sure to make a scene when he decided to toast in front of everyone. 

You were seated, content with a plate of food in front of you. As you listened to him speak for the first time, holding a chalice up to your lips. 

To the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. As his words died down from silence, you knew what was coming. Aemond had constraints but sometimes even he could break. Each of them… handsome… wise… strong. His attention was solely on you now. His one good eye glistened under the candlelight. Its hue is dark and sinister. As if believing you would be ecstatic with his insults. Did he expect you to be pleased? You were not sure, everything afterward was a blur. 

A few punches and tensed stares divided the room apart. Rhaenyra consoled her children while Alicent attempted to get a hold of her sons. The boys, Aemond and Jacaerys did not stand comfortably in the tense environment. The one-eyed prince couldn’t help but feel satisfied with his efforts. At the same time, his nephew tries to refrain from anything else brash. Out of the corner, Daemon appears, effectively separating the two. His calm and contented expression rather irritated Aemond, allowing him to leave without haste. In comparison, Jacaerys contended to his mother’s orders and left the room. You were expected to follow behind your betrothed footsteps.

Despite having other plans.

Under the dark coven of King’s Landing, you whisk away into the shadows. It was like running around in a maze, every corridor you seemed to pass looked similar. You had no clue where you were heading or your intention to go this far away from your chambers. But your cousin’s actions confused you. If you could speak to Aemond, you would dissolve whatever strain he feels under this obligation. 

“Have you no shame?” You voiced, coming into the moonlight’s center. The simple garden of the Weirwood tree where the two of you found each other. It was a comforting place to read poetry or listen to a musician play. You found yourself here too many times now. “It seems like your grievances have gotten the better of you, cousin.”

Aemond hums with a sneer. “Aren’t you bothered by it?”

“Bothered by what?” you retort, your irritation rising at his insolence.

“You’re betrothed,” he says, pausing before adding, “to a bastard.”

“Why should I be?” you snap back, icy and curt. “His mother is a Targaryen and heir to the Iron Throne, so he remains a Targaryen.”

The second son turns, catching your angry expression. It bothers him how fitting you believe having Jacaerys as your betrothed would not bring any consequences. “His blood is not pure.”

“Because his father is not Ser Laenor?” You joust, moving closer to where he was. Close to the roots of the many-faced tree as it stares back at you blankly. “Does it matter? He is still Rhaenyra’s child and your nephew by right and blood.”

“And you don’t think this would affect you? Your future? Your family?” On and on, the one-eyed prince pushes nonsensical questions. You clearly did not understand the faults of marrying a bastard, one so close to the proclaimed heir. It would falter your status. “You should have a better suitor that will elevate your status, not dishonor it.”

“And who could you provide that for me?” A humorless laugh escapes your mouth, grinning like a hysterical maniac. You did not take his words seriously. Even so, you had never looked more magnificent, bathed in the purest light the gods could provide. The maroon gown you wore draped flawlessly over your figure, embodying the combined beauty of the Targaryens and Velaryons. You were the epitome of both beautiful Valyrian lineages. Your curved, sly smile accentuated your playful nature. You beam under his sight because simply he’s enamored by you. Why couldn’t his mother propose him to you? Not with anyone else. You. 

Nothing comes out of the prince’s mouth. He was not sure why. 

His delayed response gave you the chance to speak once more. “It’s just like you said,” you whispered, barely audible from where you stood a few paces away. “I’ll have a husband soon enough.

Jace. When the Weirwood leaves ruffled, you cupped your hands together. You sat in silence for a while before thinking of all the ways to approach him when the time came for you to return to Dragonstone. I had to leave. Yes, staying on Dragonstone felt intolerable. You would only be reminded of Rhaenys remains, how her last moments were of your playful banter of burning the Greens. How did it compare now when her body is underneath rubble along with her mighty Meleys? She was the one who taught you how to fly. Did he know that?

Amid the chaos, your name is hollered out. “Princess of Dragonstone, future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” You depart your solemn eyes away from the stormy skies of Harrenhal to the witch that approaches. You recognized her from your lord’s description. “I see you’ve taken a liking to the Godswoods.” 

Alys Rivers remains a mystery to you. She seems to wander the grounds alone much like the owls roaming the halls. She appears with the lords, she’s there with your father. And she is here, alone with you, as the Weirwood tree stands witness. Her black-painted locks are enchanting, and her enigmatic beauty captivates you with curiosity. She was a bastard but if you’ve learned anything coming from your family, it shouldn’t be considered a burden. 

“What do you want?” Your attention bounces back and forth from her to elsewhere, she assumes your thoughts. Your voice was laced with gentle sarcasm and lightheartedness. It seemed to her you too became acquitted with her. You had gotten used to her disappearances and reappearances quicker than your father. 

“I noticed you come here often,” The witch mentions, making you feel spellbound by her words. “A princess who flees from the safety of her home. To reconcile with her father only to be let down by his anguish. Surely she is feeling overwhelmed…” 

She tries to lure you in yet you concur. "Is it wrong to aid my father when he fails to do what he intended?”

“Greed comes in many different ways, Princess,” She perks up, wide-eyed like a nocturnal barn owl. Her stare invites intrigue and bizarre curiosity to those who would allow her to indulge. Yet you felt sort of unease the way she looked at you. As if she could read your mind. 

You allow silence to sit a few seconds longer. With a stoic expression, you state. “Yes, it does.” 

“Mm,” She grins, much like a mischievous cat. "I hope it doesn’t lead you to act recklessly. Gathering the largest army does not ensure you will achieve glory."

At this, you tilt your head to the side. “Do you expect treason from me, Rivers?”

“Oh not at all, Princess,” She exclaims with a touch of sarcasm. “But you should know the lords here aren’t as accommodating as the ones you find at home.” It was as if a mix of mockery and degradation was interwoven into her words. Alys did not seem at all worried about your reaction. It looked as if she was playing you, to get a reaction out of you. "Your fate was sealed long ago; it is clear what the gods have planned for you."

"Whatever the gods intend," you said slowly, your tone dropping to a dangerous whisper, "matters not, for I shall carve my own path." A sudden screech rings out, alarming and shaking the leaves around you. The ancient tree stands solemnly, its crimson leaves fluttering against the storm. Out of the corner of her eye, Alys spots your dragon with scales of mottled green and copper, his disordered appearance piquing her curiosity.

His exotic wings are both powerful and fierce, mirroring your own nature. He grunts and prowls around the Weirwood tree while you maintain a gaze of striking boldness. Dragons surpass mere prophecy, being molded by blood magic and incantations. Many see them as formidable beasts and deities, a notion that terrifies her with its sheer incomprehensibility.

And with that, she cannot tear her eyes away from your beast, caught between terror and awe, her sapphire gaze frozen. As if sensing her fear, Sheepstealer sneers wickedly, revealing his sharp canines.

“The River Lords will be arriving shortly,” You clasped your hands together, “Find my father, will you?”

[maomaojinshi]

think her confusion is not that she’s innocent but that she truly doesn’t understand that what she’s done is wrong and why people are upset. She’s at best sociopathic, possibly psychopathic #烏は主を選ばない #yatagarasu

[courtofcrescent]

Hi there! Gonna start off by saying that your intro post was amazing, I genuinely cannot wait to play through this story! I did have a question though: so there was a Queen Consort and a Concubine in the former royal family, and we held great respect for the Queen Consort even though the Concubine was our mistress. That fact stood out to me, since queens and concubines generally don't like each other very much. So how are those positions assigned in your world, and was there any rivalry between the two? I'm ravenous for any and all worldbuilding you can give me!

Hi there, Dear Anon!

Thank you so much 🩶 Thrilled to hear you’re excited about the story and I can’t wait for you to experience it either! Also, I'm really ravenous too for any worldbuilding asks haha!

The answer became quite long, so we’ll go under the cut!

Queen consorts (or king consorts) and concubines generally don't like each other very much is indeed true lol. Luxendis (and many other kingdoms) have had a lot of such rivalries in the past. This is also a very expected outcome in the Imperial House. Imperial nobles would often bet on who will outlast whom, making it one of their favourite forms of entertainment and a means of gaining more wealth and power muahaha!

Regarding the former Queen Consort and the Concubine, their relationship was actually pretty chill—quite close, even! The Old King and Queen Consort’s marriage was a political one, meant to strengthen both of their houses and prosperity of Luxendis. However, they had been good childhood friends beforehand, so their marriage was very cordial and peaceful. There were times when love blossomed in their hearts—childhood crushes and first loves—but the Old King grew out of these feelings. The Queen Consort did not.

Despite her enduring feelings, the Queen Consort was not a greedy woman. Being his close friend and standing peacefully by his side while sharing royal responsibilities was enough for her. She understood the burden of the crown and wanted the Old King to be not just a happy king but a happy man as well. And the Concubine could make him happy. After her personal spies reported that nothing was amiss and there were no foul schemes surrounding the woman who captivated her husband (there were far too many snakes who tried to manipulate him for power), the Queen Consort officially granted her blessing for their union as she presented the royal decree of appointment to the Old King. Yes, in Luxendis, only a consort can grant the position of a concubine; the ruler cannot do this (but they can pressure their consort tho).

The Queen Consort then gave the newly appointed Concubine one of her most dependable noble servant in her royal retinue—MC. Giving one of the consort's noble servants is a Luxendis royal household tradition that symbolizing goodwill between the spouses (and a potential means of spying or foul schemings, though the Queen Consort did not use MC for this purpose; it was truly a symbol of goodwill). Thus, MC received a big promotion and became a high servant 😆

Through MC, both the Queen Consort and the Concubine tried to build a closer bridge between each other. And it worked! They soon became close, initially managing their overlapping responsibilities—such as planning parties and charities—with good cooperation. Over time, their relationship deepened, evolving from mere roles of Queen Consort and Concubine into a genuine connection within the treacherous world of court gilded politics.

Thank you for the ask! 🩶 Please keep them coming 👀

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Preview for the next episode. Spoilers ahead if you haven’t read the novel / manga.

It is a fact that the anime writers added Yukiya’s appearance announcing Wakamiya’s intention of choosing an empress. Is he going to accompany him the whole time? I am excited what else are they going to alter (add, edit, omit) and what’s the aim in the end.

… the one they were waiting for more than anything in the world was freely settled there—His Highness, the heir to the throne. The young gentleman turned out to be a young man with unimaginably correct facial features. The hair of the same black colour as his bird feathers framed the white face of a real aristocrat. The look of too black, sparkling, like amethyst, eyes, unlike anyone else, was amazing. ( x )