#regal yet threatening

[cheese-ducks]

he looks so regal in this pic

[bumblesimagines]

The Sky's Empty

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers, F!Reader

Summary: Nobody understands Queen Helaena, absolutely nobody. She's always been the odd little girl who whispers senseless things. Nobody understands her. Nobody heeds her warnings. Nobody comforts her.... except for her loyal lady in waiting.

CW/TW: Spoilers for S2, death of a child, a mother in grief, Criston Cole, could be read as platonic or romantic written with a secret romance in mind tho

Heyyyy I promise I'll do a fluffy Helaena thing soon! This is for my beautiful girl kissers who love angst.

~~~

Another prince was dead. 

(Y/N) could hardly comprehend it, could hardly believe the news she'd woken up to earlier than usual when the castle had abruptly come to life in swift panic before the sun had even begun to rise. Her maids had flocked to her bedchambers as quickly as their nimble feet could take them and woken her up with pale faces and wide eyes. 

"They killed the prince," One told her, spinning around to retrieve the clothes (Y/N) would be wearing for the day while the woman in question stared groggily after her, left to sleepily turn to the other maid and furrow her brows in question. The other one sniffled, hardly containing the tears before they spilled from her eyes. "The Queen's son, My Lady! Prince Jaehaerys!"

At her words, (Y/N) had gone rigid with shock, mouth falling open and a wave of dread crashing into her like a cold wave eager to drown her in its depths. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening until they were no doubt almost bulging from her head. Helaena... Helaena. She'd thrown the covers from her body and flew out of bed, her maids quickly springing into action to dress her and pull her hair back into a regal style befitting of a lady. 

Access to the floor where the royal family slept had been restricted until the guards managed to capture one of the men involved but Dowager Queen Alicent and Otto had granted her permission to pass. 

So, there she went, the front of her dress lifted slightly so she could speed through the halls and staircases in the direction of Helaena's bedchambers. Servants and guards stepped swiftly out of her way and dipped their heads in respect as she flew past them until she reached the doorway leading into the twin's bedchambers and stepped inside.

"Oh, Gods," She exhaled shakily and pressed a hand to her chest at the sight of the bloodstained sheets. Decapitated, she'd heard. Decapitated in front of his mother. Little troublemaking Jaehaerys who loved laughing and playing and getting up to no good with his father. (Y/N) inhaled deeply and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her body to calm itself and her heart to slow back down to a regular pace.

She swallowed and opened her eyes again, scanning the room until they landed on Helaena. "Oh, my dear Helaena." (Y/N) whispered, placing her fingers over her lips, refusing to let the tears fall yet. Helaena needed her. She needed her. (Y/N) swallowed down the bile threatening to rise and looked back toward the servants stripping the bed and mattress. 

"I need you to move quicker." She told them icily and their movements quickened, hands fumbling and eyes frantically glancing in her direction. She watched them through narrowed eyes until they stumbled out of the bedroom and disappeared down the hall, forcing her attention to the guard standing by the door. Cole. Her shoulders squared and she strode toward him. 

"My Lady," Ser Criston greeted forcibly, his eyes dancing between the partly taken apart bed and her face. 

"Get out." 

"I-"

"Get out." (Y/N) hissed, her hand flying out to grasp the collar of his chest plate and tug him closer to her. His eyes flashed with surprise and a hint of fear, his body going rigid beneath his armor. She leaned in to angrily whisper without Helaena hearing, "Do not pretend to be doing your job when you're simply here to rid yourself of guilt, Cole. A child died because of your failure. If it were up to me, you'd be stripped of your position and cloak, now, go. Nobody wishes to lay eyes on your face today, Ser." 

Releasing him with a forceful shove, (Y/N) watched him stagger back and out of the doorway before she grasped the door and closed it in his face. She summoned all her anger and annoyance and forced it out in a long exhale, her fingers reaching down to grasp the skirt of her dress and raise it as she turned back around and approached the sorrowful mother. 

"My darling," She cooed softly. Helaena barely looked like herself anymore. Her hair remained messy and unattended, her eyes red and marked with lack of sleep, her lips cracked and bitten from anxious nibbling. (Y/N)'s heart twisted at the sight of it. 

"My boy... they wanted the boy... it was always going to be the boy... my boy," Helaena whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears and cheeks stained with the ones she'd already shed. She sobbed and gasped, nearly collapsing over the table containing the children's toys. (Y/N) quickly stepped toward her and wrapped a delicate arm around her, the other one nudging Helaena's face into the crook of her neck. "They took him... they took him, they took my boy, my only boy."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm here now, Helaena. I'm here. I will not leave your side, sweet darling, I will not. I promise." (Y/N) reassured, feeling Helaena's full weight lean into her as the mother slumped in her arms and sobbed into her shoulder. (Y/N) carefully lowered herself onto the floor, taking Helaena with her and cradling the weeping girl. She carefully began rocking side to side, whispering comforts and reassuring sentiments. 

Helaena sniffled. "They... they wish to show his body to everyone..." She hiccuped and buried her face further in (Y/N)'s shoulder, staining the fabric of her dress with tears. Her arms wrapped loosely around her, seeking out every bit of comfort she could find through her crying. (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut again, running her fingertips along Helaena's hair and scalp. Heartless fools the lot of them; too caught up in a war they began to care for anything else. 

"I'm so sorry, Helaena. I'm sorry, my darling." (Y/N) continued to stroke her hair until her weeping subsided for the moment, leaving Helaena to nuzzle her cheek into (Y/N) shoulder and sigh shakily, occasional sniffles leaving her. (Y/N) stared at the bedframe of Jaehaerys bed, all too fond memories of helping Helaena get the twins down for the night flickering through her mind. Poor, sweet boy. A child brutally killed and for what? Revenge? Coin? 

The door creaked open and a maid peeked in, her lips parting to speak but the scathing glare (Y/N) sent her way had her shutting the door again. (Y/N) slid her hand down to Helaena's hair to gently take her shoulders, carefully pushing her back slightly and cupping her wet cheek. "Come, my dear. We must get you dressed. I will attend to you, alright?" 

Managing to coax Helaena onto her feet, she led the girl to her bedchamber and dismissed the maids. She helped Helaena dress in a gown fitting for a funeral and combed her hair, ensuring to give her encouragement and words of comfort throughout while her experienced fingers braided strands back into a bun. Helaena stared blankly at her lap so (Y/N) carefully took her hands and brought her attention up to her face. 

"Helaena," She began, "You are no longer a princess bound to do whatever your mother and grandsire wish of you. You are the Queen of Westeros. You must speak with your husband. Aegon may be... volatile and unpredictable but I highly doubt this is how he wishes your boy to be remembered. You must tell him. His word is final. Not your mother's or Otto's or anyone on the council. His. You are his wife. Speak to him. Do not allow them to parade Prince Jaehaerys to be gawked by those who never knew nor cared for him."

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - A Cinderella Story

Summary - At a ball, an outsider captures the attention of Prince Jacaerys, their dance sparks a fleeting, magical connection. But as midnight strikes, the magic shatters, and she flees, leaving behind a single crystal slipper—and a prince determined to find the one who stole his heart.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2079

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

I entered the grand hall with a deep breath, hoping the opulence of the evening would swallow me whole, that I might blend into the sea of noble faces and remain unnoticed.

Yet, the moment I stepped through the towering archway, it became painfully clear that I had failed.

The soft murmur of conversation that had filled the air before my arrival dwindled, replaced by a ripple of whispers and stolen glances.

Every gaze turned toward me, as though the very act of stepping into this room had drawn the light toward me.

I felt the weight of their stares—some curious, some cold, others hungry.

The women exchanged hushed words, their eyes flitting to me with a mixture of envy and suspicion, while the men gazed unabashedly, their expressions slackened as if they had been starved for days and I were the only thing that could quench their thirst.

Despite the sudden attention, I forced a serene smile to my lips, masking the nervous tremor in my chest as I descended the grand staircase.

Step by step, my gown—deep sapphire, the colour of the ocean under a starry sky—flowed around me like a cascade of midnight waves, the fabric catching the candlelight and shimmering as though stitched with threads of moonlight.

Each step, each flutter of the gown, seemed to echo through the hall, holding every eye captive.

The crystal slippers on my feet sparkled with every move, their delicate form both beautiful and unforgiving.

They pinched slightly, an unfamiliar weight of luxury, reminding me that this was not my world, that I didn't belong among the silks and jewels, the whispered secrets of nobility.

Yet tonight, for these fleeting hours, I wore the guise of someone who did.

As I reached the base of the staircase, the intensity of the stares threatened to overwhelm me.It was as though the entire room had pressed in on me, their attention a heavy cloak I hadn't asked to wear.

I hadn't come here to stand out, but I was now undeniably the centre of a world I barely understood.

And then, my breath caught in my throat.

Among the sea of faces, there was one gaze that stood apart—Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

His dark eyes, sharp and inquisitive, were already locked on mine, his expression unreadable yet brimming with an intrigue that made my pulse quicken.

His presence in the room was magnetic, effortlessly commanding the attention of all who surrounded him, and yet, in this moment, I felt as though we were the only two people in the hall.

His raven-black curls brushed against the collar of his embroidered doublet, the flicker of firelight casting a warm glow over his tanned skin.

He held a goblet of wine loosely in one hand, though his focus was entirely on me as if he were trying to unravel the mystery of who I was without saying a word.

Under his gaze, I felt an invisible thread of destiny pulling tighter, drawing me into a world far grander, far more dangerous than I had ever imagined.

He stepped forward with a kind of regal grace that made the room still around him, each movement purposeful, as though he knew the impact he had on those around him.

He approached me, and the murmurs in the hall ceased altogether, leaving a charged silence in their wake.

"Would you honour me with a dance?" His voice, smooth as the sea on a calm day, cut through the stillness.

The sound of it sent a ripple of excitement through the hall.

The women in the room, who had watched him with longing, stiffened in their seats, while the men seemed to bristle in silent envy.

Yet his attention never wavered from me.

I hesitated for the briefest of moments, my heart fluttering in my chest like a trapped bird.

The weight of every gaze pressed down on me, and for a second, I wondered if I had the strength to step forward.

But then, with a soft, almost imperceptible nod, I placed my hand in his outstretched one.

His touch was warm, reassuring, and he led me onto the floor with an elegance that seemed effortless, as though the world had been designed for him to move through it so perfectly.

The music enveloped us as we began to move, our steps perfectly synchronized, as if we had danced together a thousand times before.

The crowd that had gathered around us melted into the background, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though we were the only two people in the world.

Prince Jacaerys' hand rested firmly on my waist, guiding me effortlessly through each step, his touch warm and steady, while his other hand gently held mine, as though I might slip away if he loosened his grip for even a second.

His dark eyes never left my face, drinking in every detail with an intensity that made my heart race.

The world around us seemed to blur, and I could feel the pulse of my own heartbeat in my ears, in time with the soft melody of the music.

"You're breathtaking," he whispered, his voice low, meant only for me.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, as though he was saying more than just admiring my appearance.

There was something in the way he looked at me, as if he saw not only the beauty of the gown, the sparkling slippers, but something deeper, something hidden beneath the surface. "I've never seen anyone like you."

I swallowed hard, the compliment making my pulse quicken. "You flatter me, my prince."

"No," he said softly, shaking his head slightly as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"I don't think I could flatter you enough, not with words. You're... different. More radiant than anyone here." His eyes flickered over my face, lingering on my lips before returning to my gaze, a gentle smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

I glanced away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze for too long.

My breath caught in my throat as he spun me gracefully, his hand never leaving mine, guiding me back to him in a single fluid motion.

It felt effortless, like I belonged in his arms like this dance had been written for us alone.

"You move like the wind," he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. "So light, so graceful. It's as if the music is following you, not the other way around."

His words wrapped around me, warm and sincere, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget the world outside this dance.

I allowed myself to imagine, just for these few stolen minutes, that I wasn't an outsider, that I wasn't pretending to be someone I wasn't.

Here, in his arms, under the glow of the chandeliers, I felt like I could belong in this world, if only for tonight.

Prince Jacaerys pulled me closer as the dance slowed, his breath warm against my cheek. "Tell me your name," he whispered, his voice a gentle plea. "I must know who you are."

I bit my lip, my heart pounding in my chest. His gaze held such genuine curiosity, such admiration, that it made the truth all the harder to keep.

For a brief moment, I considered telling him everything, spilling the secrets that weighed heavy in my heart. But I couldn't. Not now. Not here.

"I'm no one," I replied softly, lowering my eyes, afraid of the disappointment I might see in his. "No one of importance."

He frowned, his brow furrowing slightly.

"That's impossible," he murmured, his voice filled with disbelief. "Someone like you—so beautiful, so captivating—could never be 'no one.'"

His hand tightened around mine, his fingers gently tracing the curve of my wrist as though he were afraid I might vanish. "You're the only one in this entire hall who feels real."

I felt a rush of warmth in my chest at his words, but I could also sense the danger in them. His attention was like a flame, drawing me in, and I was afraid that if I got too close, I would burn.

"I'm just a girl," I whispered, though the words felt hollow as they left my lips. "Nothing more."

He shook his head again, his eyes searching mine, as though trying to find the truth behind my words. "You're far more than that. I can feel it. I've never been so... drawn to someone before."

I could hear the sincerity in his voice, the raw emotion that he didn't even try to hide.

It was as if the rest of the world had faded away for him too, as if he had forgotten the noblewomen watching from the edges of the hall, their jealous eyes fixed on us.

He didn't care about any of them. In this moment, he only saw me.

The dance slowed even further, our steps now almost a gentle sway. His fingers brushed against the small of my back, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

"I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since the moment you walked in," he confessed softly. His lips curved into a smile, a touch of amusement in his eyes. "I doubt anyone else has either."

I managed a small smile, though my heart raced with a mixture of exhilaration and dread. "You're too kind, my prince."

"Not kind," he corrected, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he leaned in slightly. "Honest. You've bewitched this entire hall—me, most of all."

His words, spoken so softly yet with such weight, hung in the air between us.

I could feel the tension building, like an unspoken promise that lingered just out of reach.

The warmth of his hand at my waist, the way his thumb brushed the back of my hand in the slightest of motions, sent a shiver down my spine.

It was intoxicating, this connection between us, something deeper than mere attraction.

And yet, I couldn't stay.

Suddenly, the clock in the corner of the room began to chime. Midnight.

The sound sliced through the air, pulling me from the beautiful illusion that had enveloped me.

I stopped in his arms, the reality crashing back into place with brutal clarity.

The chime of the clock was deafening in the sudden silence, each note stretching time itself.

One. I froze, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Two. His eyes found mine, questioning. Pleading.

Three. The spell was breaking, the midnight hour like a blade severing the magic that had woven this night together.

I had to leave. Now

"I have to leave," I whispered, my voice trembling with the urgency of the moment. I stepped back, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened ever so slightly, his eyes filled with confusion.

"Wait," he pleaded, his brow furrowing. "Please, don't go."

But I couldn't stay. Not after this. Not when the magic of the night was about to fade.

Without another word, I slipped from his grasp, turning on my heel and rushing toward the grand staircase.

"Wait!" Jacaerys called after me, his voice filled with desperation as I fled across the marble floor.

My crystal slippers clinked lightly with each hurried step, the sound echoing through the now-quiet hall.

The whispers of the guests rose again, but I didn't hear them. My only thought was escape.

I rushed up the staircase, my gown swirling around my legs, and pushed open the grand doors, stepping into the cool night air.

The stars above glittered like distant diamonds, but I had no time to admire them.

My heart pounded as I raced down the stone steps, the uneven cobblestones beneath my feet threatening to trip me.

Behind me, I could still hear his voice, pleading. "Please, wait!"

Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, one of my crystal slippers slipped from my foot, tumbling onto the stone.

I barely noticed, too focused on disappearing before he could catch up to me.

I ran into the shadows, my breath coming in gasps, my heart aching with the knowledge that this night—this impossible, magical night—was over.

At the top of the steps, Prince Jacaerys halted, his breath heavy as he watched me vanish into the night.

His gaze lowered, falling upon the delicate crystal slipper left behind, glinting under the moonlight.

He bent down, picking it up as though it were the most precious thing in the world, his jaw tightening with resolve.

"Whoever you are," he whispered to the empty night, clutching the slipper tightly, "I will find you."

A/n - If it wasn't blatantly obvious this is indeed inspired by cinderella, I feel like it's such a cute sort of sweet idea for a quick little one-shot 🤭

[michaela-o]

SENTINEL X GN! HUMAN READER DRABBLE

( warnings: kidnappery, mentions of threatening life and killing )

The chamber was dim, lit only by the faint blue glow of Cybertronian technology running through the walls. The air was thick with tension. A human sat bound in the corner, their wrists shackled by unfamiliar uncomfortable restraints digging into their flesh. Faint crackle of their restraints humming with every slight movement. They glared up at the towering form of Sentinel Prime, as they quickly learned his name, their heart pounding in their chest like a little bird looking for escape in a cage.

Sentinel loomed meanecingly above them, his optics burning with cold amusement with that sly smile across his faceplate. His presence was overwhelming—a blend of regal authority and calculating menace of someone who knew held all the cards. His massive frame shifted slightly as he crouched down, leaning closer above to the creature beneath him.

"You really don't understand, do you?" Sentinel rumbled with chuckle, his voice smooth but laced with menace. "Your life—your very existence—depends on my whim."

The human swallowed hard, forcing themeselves not to flinch. They are not gonna let this prick of a leader, as he likes to call himself, let him intimidate them. But damm was that hard. But if there's one thing Sentinel was good at, was to break anything that he didn't like to bend his way. Even if he had to use a little force. As if he cared. He was rather enjoying this.

Sentinel’s optics narrowed as he reached down, his sly smirk not faltering, pinching them between two massive fingers. They gasped as he lifted them into the air effortlessly, holding them just high that their feet dangled above the ground. The pressure from his grip was deliberate—enough to hurt and scare, not enough to crush. At least not yet.

"You humans are so... breakable," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "It takes barely any effort to end you. A twist. A squeeeeeze..." He gave the slightest increase of pressure, making them cry out.

Their breath hitched, panic clawing at their chest. They struggled against his fingers but Sentinel’s grip was unyielding. He chuckled darkly, savoring the way their heartbeat quivered in their chest, the way fear bloomed in their eyes despite their attempts to hide the fear.

The human glared at him through gritted teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of begging. But Sentinel’s smirk only grew at their defiance. He let out a chuckle—the delicate balance of fear and resistance, knowing he could extinguish them in a heartbeat but choosing not to. He was enjoying himself a bit too much.

"You’re wondering how long I’ll play with you," he said, as if reading their thoughts. "How many times you’ll wake up, wondering if today will be your last." He shifted his grip slightly, making them gasp as the pressure around their ribs increased. "Maybe I'll crush you slowly, just to see how long before your little chest snaps. Or perhaps I'll let you go—just for the sport of hunting you down again." He was talking as if this was a normal occurence in his daily life. It was sickening.

He brought them closer to his faceplate, his optics burning into their soft glassy eyes with an unsettling intensity. "You’ll never know," he said softly with venom dripping in his voice. "And that, little human, is the most fun part. Your life isn’t yours anymore. It’s mine. You belong to me."

Their pulse pounded in their ears, it all fell down on them. The desperation..the reality that they might never come out of this alive. But despite this they forced themeself to meet his gaze. "You're just a coward," the human spat, tested the waters, breathless from the pressure on their ribs. "All that power you claim to have and all you can do is threaten a human."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Sentinel laughed—an unsettling sound that seemed to echo in the small chamber. "Brave words for someone this close to death i gotta admit that."

Suddenly with a flick of his hand, he dropped them to the ground with a heavy thud. They tumbled to the ground, gasping for air, their body trembled from adrenaline and fear. Sentinel stood tall again, watching them with quiet satisfaction.

"Enjoy your defiance while you can," he said, turning to leave the room. "We’ll see how long it lasts when you realize I can snuff you out whenever I please."

As the massive door slid shut behind him with a resonant clang, the human sat in the silence, clutching their ribs, mind racing. As they slowly sat up tears started to form in the corner of their eyes as Sentinel’s words echoed in their head...

Aaaa i hope u enjoyed this ! Feel free ro add anything !! I know i'm not a good writer but i tried <3🧡🧡

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hiiii

Can you make another Alastor x Rarity reader like I love it sm and I need more 😭😭❤️

If you do thank youuuu

I definitely can! My dear @sillyalastor, here will be yours and @nenerobobot’s post for Rarity-reader and Al! I hope you both like our kinda short follow up to the Radio Demon and his Drama Queen!

Alastor- Diamond Trio

Alastor knows how much of a detail-orientated and fussy woman you are, and he knows fashion colours, stitching processes, habits, facts and more on the top of his head. He knows what is considered eggshell white and what is considered ivory white. That’s how much time he spends with you

Alastor has been teaching you some new recipes, ones that get a bit messy. Whilst, you’re very worried about getting food on you and is wearing about five layers of protection each time you cook with him. He finds it cute and cheers you on for you being so precise and careful with the measurements. You’ll stand there for five minutes making sure the water percentage is just perfect and he thrives off that

Alastor is not a fan of you being friends with any of the Overlords except Rosie, so when he finds out, you befriended a fellow fashionista Velvette. He is supportive of your wishes but he is glaring down Velvette and threatening her behind your back to not hurt you or he’ll hurt her. Needless to say… Al’s protective and he doesn’t tolerate any of your friends trying to ruin your spirits or your work

So that means, if anybody rejects your outfit choice and creation you made for them, even politely. Alastor will hunt them down. You’re generous and you should be praised for that generosity. Alastor takes everything you give him, if he doesn’t like it, he’ll merely ask for some additions. He won’t ever demand a new outfit or item

Now. How did you and Alastor meet, you ask? You met him at a grand gala. It mainly consisted of Overlords but a handful of Sinners were invited and you were one of them, brought into this ‘incredible’ party

Alastor had been quite intrigued by you, the moment he saw you. A gorgeous, classy, sophisticated sinner dressed in the most pretty, regal maroon pink dress he has ever seen. You had attended this ‘best night ever’ party in hopes to find your prince, the man of your dreams and when you ran into a prissy but handsome Overlord that screamed prince-like grace, you immediately latched onto him. Unaware that you’re actual prince is the one Overlord all the guests avoided like the plague

Alastor couldn’t bring himself to just ignore the only shining jewel within this boring, prim and proper high-class party. He was so uninterested that he only got entertainment out of talking to his dear friend, Rosie. So after some careful yet quick consideration, he begun to follow you and your… date around the large palace hosting this gala under the cover of shadows. He was curious on what you’d do and the disgust he felt over this Overlord acting so uncharming and so harsh to a sweet lady such as yourself. He doesn’t tolerate women of radiance being disrespected

Alastor is so glad that you finally put your foot down after all the treatment: that ‘Prince’ of a Overlord making you pay for treats, making you give up the cushion seat, taking your rose for himself, making you throw your gorgeous silky-fabric shawl over a puddle so neither of you would slip. No gentleman should treat his lady this way and his blood is boiling in pure disgust at his fellow Overlord. The final straw is when that Overlord used you as a shield to block off the pretty strawberry icing cheesecake that came flying at the pair of you

Alastor watched from the sidelines with much pride and respect, over you talking that Overlord down and proclaiming he is a royal pain but of course, that ‘prince’ only cared about his looks and was scared of you drenched in the cake. Shaking off some of the cake on your dress, hair and face to get it onto the Overlord, out of raw rage. You ended up stomping out of the main big dance ballroom, furious and on the verge of crying. Leaving that ‘date’ of yours behind

Alastor couldn’t stop himself from following you. He was curious how a pretty mid-atlantic accented lady would handle being humiliated and having lashed out against her ‘date’ in front of almost ALL of the guests in the Gala. Your pretty sparkly almost diamond-like eyes poured tears, smudging your nice mascara and light blue eyeshadow as you stomped into the pretty empty gardens and cried out your rage

Oh. Alastor didn’t like seeing somebody so innocent and done no wrong mistreated like this. Even if it was amusing, he doesn’t like it

So, he finally approaches you after a few seconds of watching you vent out your feelings through sobs. His strong sharp crimson red eyes going from your forehead golden crown to the glass plumps to the still damp shawl tied around your shoulders in a classy princess style. You’re the most beautiful guest at this sorry excuse of a Gala. Alastor folds one arm behind his back, his own gala-style black, white and red coloured suit making his red and black colouration pop as he presents you with a rose

“I believe this is yours, my dear” Your glassy eyes turned over to look at him, the almost folded, multi-layers of your dress hugging your curves and hiding your leg movements as it just felt like this night went from the worst to the best. Is this the actual gentleman you’ve always wanted?! Gently reaching out, you’re a bit intimidated by how strong his glare is, how visible his golden yellow fangs are through that wide open grin, with how menacing his long fingers are

Taking the still stemmed rose from Alastor, you didn’t even know his name but you wished you did… you are a bit scared he may be a fake like that awful Overlord you were chasing after just before but he seems friendly enough. Alastor lifts up your hands with his single one, precisely placing the rose into your prettily curled and tied up hair, just above your bangs before speaking once more. His entire presence leaking charm, grace and poise

“Shall we dance?”

You were a bit shy, still drenched in destroyed layered cake batter but Alastor didn’t even chuckle at how ruined your clean, neat look is now. He merely snaps his fingers and like that, all the sweet confectionery remains are gone and all the ruffled, ripped or knotted parts of your dress and hair is smoothed out to perfection, as well as your slightly wet shawl back to being completely dry and your makeup returned to more presentable. Just like how you looked when you entered this Gala and when Alastor first saw you. Taking a deep breath, your cheeks flustered and blushy

You take his hand and with a single tug, you and him are dancing together in the calm, breezy, beautiful gardens of the giant gala palace, no music, no other prissy annoying guests. Just the plants, the animals and you two

Your eyes are no long filled to the brim with tears, anger and heartbreak. You’re now developing a sense of admiration and awe at Alastor being so gentlemanly and sweet with you in seconds flat, he’s treating you the way you wanted that blueblood ass to treat you and it’s making your heart flutter. Twirling slowly in a nice slow steady waltz, the only music ringing is the sound of the nearby birds singing

That night was the best night ever

[thebluester2020]

Stardew Bachelors x Rude!Farmer Reader Headcanons

Summary: A new farmer has moved into Stardew Valley and...wait, how come they're always seen with a scowl on their face?! And why are they so mean?!

Warning(s): Fluff, Mean! Farmer, Doesn't contain all the bachelors! (I've only included Elliot and Sebastian since I didn't want things to become too long!), Farmer is low-key more of a tsundere to be honest, Slight favoritism to Sebastion at the end, !not proofread!

Note: As much as I love sweet-hearted farmers. I also love my mean, tsundere-esque farmers as well <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:��°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

:: Elliot had heard about the rumors a week before you arrived. That the grandchild of the late deceased farmer, who once cared for the old farm a little ways away from town, would be moving in soon. He thought a new face around town would be nice. After all, Elliot was fairly new to the town himself! He thought the two of you could share in your common experience of being new to the environment and possibly build a friendly bond.

At least…until the week you were supposed to arrive rolled around.

The rumors of you being rude. He swore they spread faster than you had actually been here.

First it was from overhearing a conversation between Gus and Lewis on Friday.

The way Lewis described you was like hearing a weary night regale his tale of how he narrowly escaped the fiery breath of a dragon. “They’ve…definitely got an attitude.” Elliot heard Lewis say.

“I’m struggling to find the resemblances. Looks aside, they’re rude! They threatened me the other day when I tried to ask if they could do me a favor!”

Elliot wouldn’t exactly deny that the possibility of you being rude made him nervous. Everyone in town was so nice that having someone mean would be like a black sheep sticking out in the middle of white sheep, you just wouldn’t belong. Yet when he had happened upon you once fateful morning on the beach/

“The hell you lookin’ at Prince Charmin’” You spat in his direction when he stared too long.

His eyes widened. “N-Nothing! Forgive me, I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m new here, that’s why.”

He cleared his throat. “So I see…” He stood in place a little while longer, observing you as you crouched down to collect items from the beach. Your appearance didn’t match your attitude, he thought. Your appearance was like that of nobility to him, graceful with certain details accentuating personality and your life on the farm.

From slightly muddied knees and a few scraps here and there.

But your tongue was like a freshly sharpened knife.

“The fuck?” You hissed at him again, snapping him out of his trance. “Who the hell you looking at? Got a problem?”

“N-No!” You dropped your bag full of items before you walked right up to him, your mouth nearly curling upwards like an angry feline.

“Yeah? You sure? You’re staring mighty hard for someone you A. Don’t know and B. Is just trying to go about their day! So what’s the problem?!”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry once again, it's just- I think you're really gorgeous to look at. The tales of your fiery temper did nothing to speak of your beauty as well." You paused at the compliment, your cheeks beginning to redden as your temper started to ease down considerably.

Besides the compliments towards the farm and your weapon prowess when you first joined the Adventurer's Guild. You didn't hear too many compliments about yourself, the only thing you'd hear was

"That new farmer is scary aren't they? They're completely unlike their grandfather!"

"Why did her grandfather entrust the farm to them? With their attitude, they'll probably soil the crops just from their glare."

To say it didn't hurt from time to time was an understatement. It wasn't your fault that you had a mean scowl on your face 24/7 and sometimes you had a habit of speaking about how you actually felt about someone before thinking about your words!

So, to hear a compliment? You couldn't help the way it made your heart flutter and your chest begin to warm.

Not that you would let this lonely beach writer who talked like some actor from Medieval Kingdom know that.

"...Thank you." You finally mumbled under your breath.

A smile graced Elliot's features. "You're welcome."

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you turned around to quickly pick up your backpack before walking off. But, not before Elliot could get another line in. "You should visit my cabin sometime! I love visitors!"

Although there was no response, for the next few months afterward, however, he kept strangely receiving duck feathers and ink bottles at his front door every other day...

Sebastion

:: The first time he had even heard the rumors of a new farmer. He was talking to his mother about her day and also alerting her that he would be out for a while riding his motorcycle. His mother had made sure to tell him to "be safe!" and likes before she told him that someone new would be moving into the old farm a little ways from town.

He hadn't thought much of it.

'Just another face in the crowd' he thought while also wondering why someone would even choose to go to this town where the most interesting thing that happened was when a slime got loose in the middle of town a while ago!

Until...the words of how rude and snappy you were began to pop up.

"That new farmer has no manners!"

"They're so mean..." He also heard Lewis say. "All I asked was for them to retrieve a...special item from Marnie's house and they said 'Get it yourself'"! Sebastion didn't see anything wrong with the supposed 'attitude' you were giving people in town, in his mind? He thought it was about time that someone had tried to bring a different energy to the town besides being yet another happy-go-lucky person who wanted to help everyone and anyone!

And even when he bumped into you one midnight evening...a sword in his hand as he wanted to go exploring the mines in order to try and put himself to sleep, his opinion of your supposed attitude remained the same.

Though, as he saw the piles of dead Shadow Brutes around...he did have a mind to be a little more weary of you. No one had told him that you were capable of slaying multiple Shadow Brutes on your own.

"You lost gloomy?" Were your first words to him as you pushed your hair back out of your face, snapping him back to reality.

He glared at you. "I could ask the same of you. Whose out fighting Shadow Brutes at midnight?"

"Me," You responded. "Something that I wouldn't expect you to do seeing how you're as skinny as a twig."

His mouth dropped a little, his annoyance with you growing as well as his interest of you. You were mean, that was no question but...unless his ears were playing tricks on him due to him not interacting with too many other people besides his friends.

He could've sworn there was a little bit of playfulness in your voice.

"I may be skinny but I've been down these mines before." He said, walking past you with a grumble as he started to look around the area for anything valuable.

As you looked Sebastion over, your mouth cracked upward a little more in an amused smile. You had just arrived at the valley, and joining the Adventurer's Guild was a good way to blow off some steam and clear your mind by fighting mindless monsters. You hadn't really thought about talking to any of the residents besides the essential ones such as Pierre, Robin and sometimes Lewis from time to time.

But, you were beginning to change your mind.

"You managed to make it all the way down to level 100 in the mines gloomy, maybe you wouldn't mind accompanying me to level 120?"

Sebastion looked back at you with a huff. "You probably wouldn't want a 'twig' coming with you."

"Even twigs can have their usefulness, don't be a wuss."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not a wuss."

You stuck your tongue out playfully. "Then prove it! Killing those Squid Kids can be a tricky process at times." As you walked passed him, you playfully shoved him as a cocky laugh escaped you. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even upgrade from a twig to a branch."

He could've ignored you, he wanted to ignore you but...as you sauntered away cockily, climbing down one of the ladders into the next level. He couldn't deny that you were interesting despite your need to tease him despite the two of you just meeting, you may have had an annoyingly high urge to tease but...strangely enough?

He liked it.

[retirementhomewriting]

Fraudulent Flowers

Features: In which the author decides that Valentine's Day is today

Fem!Reader, poor attempt at dialogue, can you tell I haven't written anything in a long time it's been literal years

"Neuvillette?!"

You felt your eyebrows raise and your heart leap all in one second.

In your hand you held an exquisite bouquet of red roses, having been delivered to you just a few moments ago on this morning of Valentine's Day.

You hadn't expected the breathtaking delivery. You weren't seeing anybody.

But what you expected least of all was that when you read the card that came with the flowers, the sender's name was written as Neuvillette—in other words—the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and although you hadn't admitted this to anyone yet, the man you loved dearly.

Never in a million years did you believe you would receive such a gift from him. Still staring at the bouquet in shock, you tried to make sense of the situation.

Neuvillette had sent you flowers. Roses, in particular. Red ones. On Valentine's Day.

This gift could only mean the sender had feelings for you. Neuvillette must have feelings for you.

For a moment, you felt that familiar flutter in your heart, only for it to be stopped by your mind.

Had it been anyone else, you wouldn't have questioned their intentions. But Neuvillette? How would he have known to send such a present? Could there have been a misunderstanding on his part of the flowers' meaning?

No, you thought. Although not a human himself, Neuvillette had lived amongst humans for centuries. Surely at some point, he must have observed the habit humans had of gifting flowers to the object of their affections on Valentine's Day.

...

Oh my.

You felt the corners of your mouth pulling into a smile. You had to see him right away. Quickly reaching for the first vase you could find, you arranged the flowers neatly, sending their beautiful blooms one last glance over your shoulder as you hurried out the door.

"Lady (Y/n)! Good morning!"

Your feet gradually came to a stop as you walked through the halls of the Palais Mermonia, a group of Melusines calling your name when you came into view.

Chuckling affectionately, you gave each of them a smile.

"Hello dears. Would Monsieur Neuvillette happen to be in his office right now?" You asked, your heart beating in anticipation.

The Melusines glanced at each other and quickly nodded.

"Monsieur Neuvillette would be happy to see you!"

"Thank you," you told them. "I'll be seeing him now."

With a mixture of anticipation and giddiness rising in your chest, you lifted your arm to knock on the doors of Neuvillette's office, not even noticing the giggles of the Melusines as they trotted happily away.

Knock knock.

"Enter."

The mere sound of Neuvillette's voice was enough to cause your heart to jump. In just a few moments, your relationship with him could change.

"Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette," you greeted the Iudex warmly as you walked into his office, shutting the door softly behind you.

The sight of Neuvillette poring over paperwork cut as regal a figure as always, you vaguely noted.

"Good morning, Lady (Y/n)," Neuvillette responded, his gorgeous eyes flitting up to meet yours. "I was not expecting your presence today. Not that your presence is unwelcome," he added, the faintest of smiles ghosting his lips.

His words cycled through your brain as you took a seat in front of him. He wasn't expecting your presence today?

"Well," you began carefully, "I believe these types of matters are best not delayed." You inhaled quietly, facing these next important words. "I received your flowers. I must say, I was touched. They were beautiful. And... I really appreciated that you would send them to me."

You smiled, albeit a bit bashfully, at Neuvillette.

Neuvillette, for as much as he wanted to bask in that beautiful smile of yours that threatened to purge all other concerns from his mind, could not combat his confusion.

"I'm afraid I do not understand," he said. "I do not recall sending you any flowers, and yet you say you have received them from me?"

"... I'm sorry?"

Neuvillette... didn't send you any flowers? The information hit you like a bucket of ice water, the bashful smile on your face rapidly turning into a frown of mortification.

"I... well..." you stumbled miserably around your words as you tried to make sense of the situation while also fighting the confusion and shame that tore at your dignity. "I received a bouquet of roses this morning that were supposedly sent as a Valentine's gift...from...you...."

Your final word slipped out weakly from your lips.

You couldn't believe what was happening. That bouquet you got wasn't from Neuvillette. But then who would play such a cruel trick on you?

Oh you felt like such a fool, having gotten your hopes up when Neuvillette wasn't even thinking of you.

Suddenly straightening in your chair, you forced yourself to make eye contact with the Iudex.

"I'm sorry," you choked the words from your throat.

Neuvillette only looked at you in confusion.

"I do not believe you have anything to apologize for. It was not you who falsely sent those flowers in my name, after all."

"I know," you muttered, "but I apologize for charging into the matter so blindly and being so quick to believe in a lie. I in no way wanted to make you uncomfortable by misreading the situation. Please," you swallowed bitterly, "disregard my intentions in coming here to see you today."

Your intentions? Your statement gave Neuvillette pause.

If he stopped to think about the situation clearly, what were your intentions in visiting him?

You believed you had received flowers from him, specifically Valentine's Day flowers. Neuvillette had personally never celebrated Valentine's Day himself, but he knew at least the basic significance of the holiday for most Fontainians.

It was a day to celebrate love.

You thought he had sent you a gift... to celebrate his love for you?

And you had accepted that gift.

Had you perhaps come here to... reciprocate his love?

At the thought of that possibility, Neuvillette felt a warmth bloom across his chest, a warmth that seemed to awaken often in him these days.

He quietly breathed in and out, trying to regain his composure and quell the urgent tremble he knew would break his voice if he spoke too soon.

"Lady (Y/n)."

At the sound of your name, you reluctantly looked up.

"If it would not incommodate you, I would prefer not to overlook your intentions in coming to visit me today." Neuvillette gazed into your eyes steadily. "In fact, would you be willing to tell me your favorite species of flower?"

"My favorite flower...?"

"If you would allow me," Neuvillette continued, the tips of his ears turning the lightest shade of pink, "it would be my honor to truly gift you a Valentine's bouquet. I may not have the most experience in these sorts of human customs, but... I would be willing to learn more about them if it pleases you."

Two beats later and you were staring at Neuvillette as if on today of all todays your ears chose to fail you.

Two beats more and Neuvillette was graced with what surely must have been the most precious gift of all: your smiling face, which could evaporate the rain from the sky itself.

You were right.

Your relationship with Neuvillette was about to change.

And as the Melusines listening from the hall giggled triumphantly to each other and took note of what your favorite flower really was, the love you shared with the Chief Justice allowed itself to grow.

[altocat]

The Silver Elite club is so creepy actually. The fan clubs for Genesis and Angeal share basic information about Angeal loving plants and cooking or Genesis having a history with Loveless.

But Silver Elite takes it to another level. The information is uncomfortably private. Sephiroth sneaking into the training room with his friends was supposed to be a secret, but Hojo exposed it anyway. Yet in the same newsletter he writes about how Sephiroth valued his privacy. Great.

Then for Hojo to share something as personal as what Sephiroth used to clean his “long beautiful hair” is absolutely repulsive and disgusting. All that fan club did was expose how obsessed Hojo was with Sephiroth and how closely he monitored him all his life.

It's really eye-opening because Silver Elite is sorta played for laughs in CC, or at least meant to be kind of amusing because it's Sephiroth doing mundane Sephiroth things, only for you to realize in hindsight that it's actually a very deeply violating invasion of privacy. Sephiroth around CC era won't even LOOK at Hojo, much less speak to him. I refuse to believe he's giving Hojo any license to post all this private information without Shinra pressuring him into compliance.

People have expectations of Sephiroth. That he's this regal, dominant creature that is always in control, always above everyone else, always flawless and badass at everything he does. They know him as a villain, powerful, imposing, always two steps ahead of Cloud and crew, always smug and threatening and towering over the competition. Crisis Core (and First Soldier) paints a far grimmer picture as to the person Sane!Sephiroth really was pre-madness. He's actually very passive and subdued, dare I say submissive. He has his pride, yeah. And a level of authority over his men. He's definitely not someone you want to annoy or come to blows with. But in his private life within Shinra, he's actually very nonconfrontational and sort of bleakly resigned to everything.

Maybe the EC marketing was right when it suggested that the audience doesn't really KNOW Sephiroth. Because the way the real Sephiroth acts doesn't suggest dominance or power or autonomy of any kind. He's dealt a lot of daily Shinra bullshit and he just puts up with it. He does as he's told. He can be choosy about his missions and he might have a few more privileges than the average soldier. But his hands are just as tied as everyone else's. Maybe even more so because his guardians are allowed to exploit him for profit day after day just to drum up propaganda for new recruits.

[raointean]

Okay, I'm thinking of the descendants of Finwë in RoP and I need to share.

Of the 29 descendants of Finwë (that have been born at that point), there are only four left alive in Middle Earth. One of them, Celebrimbor, has purposefully sundered himself from all his kin, trying to put distance between him and the crimes of his family. Another, Galadriel, has become so hellbent on revenge that she can hardly spare a moment to spend with her family before rushing back to the hunt.

The two youngest, the little ones, Gil-Galad and Elrond, are physically together, but there is a strict boundary of authority that sunders them as well. Gil-Galad is king. He must maintain a sense of regality and aloofness to maintain his position, command his cousins, and leash his great-aunt. Elrond is the only son of many dispossessed houses and, in being part of everything, belongs nowhere. He is still young and awkward, having yet to come into his own.

As royals, they are not particularly close, whether that be due to necessity or if that was just the way things shook out. Galadriel seems to be on the best terms with most of them: she is a friend to Elrond and seems friendly with Celebrimbor, although her relationship with her nephew is a little... strained. Gil-Galad knows all of them well, but almost only as working relationships, detached and impersonal. Elrond has a dear friend in Galadriel, but it seems that he had never even MET Celebrimbor before season 1, and his relationship with Gil-Galad is strictly professional.

They are no better when pressure is applied. They take sides and block out all evidence that does not support their positions. Elrond flees. Galadriel bulldozes ahead. Celebrimbor isolates himself. And Gil-Galad- Gil-Galad is doing his best to be the rock his kingdom- and his family- needs.

And yet, despite their distance and dysfunction and individual flaws, they come together when one of their own is threatened.

[horeformilfs]

Lullaby

Donna Beneviento x Fem!Reader

TW: Depression

------------------------------------------

Lady Dimitrescu, adorned in her regal attire, glided through the ornate halls of Castle Dimitrescu with her customary grace. As the mistress of the grand estate, she was accustomed to the daily routines that unfolded within its walls. Yet, on this particular morning, there was an unsettling absence that cast a shadow upon her usual composure.

Y/N, her devoted personal maiden, had failed to attend to her duties. Alcina Dimitrescu, though initially unperturbed by the absence, couldn't shake the nagging sense of unease that settled within her chest. She dismissed it at first, attributing Y/N's absence to a minor inconvenience, perhaps a fleeting illness or an errand that required immediate attention.

However, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, and the hours stretched on, Alcina's concern morphed into a palpable worry. Y/N was a fixture in her life, a steady presence that had become intertwined with the fabric of her existence over the past four years. The thought of her sudden disappearance sent tendrils of apprehension snaking through Alcina's mind.

Summoning her daughters, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela, Alcina gathered them in her chambers, her expression betraying the gravity of the situation. "Have any of you seen Y/N today?" she inquired, her voice tinged with a hint of urgency.

The sisters exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in confusion. "No, Mother," Bela replied, her tone laced with concern. "We haven't seen her since yesterday evening."

Alcina's heart sank at the confirmation of Y/N's prolonged absence. A sense of foreboding settled over her, casting a shadow upon the opulent surroundings of her chamber. Y/N's disappearance was an anomaly, a disruption in the carefully choreographed dance of their lives within the castle walls.

Determined to unravel the mystery shrouding Y/N's whereabouts, Alcina resolved to scour every corner of the castle until she found her. With each passing moment, her worry deepened, fueling her determination to reunite with her beloved Y/N and uncover the truth behind her sudden disappearance.

Alcina's concern deepened as she stood in the threshold of Y/N's chamber, her gaze fixated on the figure lying motionless upon the bed. With each passing moment of silence, her apprehension grew, mingling with a sense of helplessness that threatened to consume her.

"Y/N," Alcina called out softly, her voice carrying a note of apprehension. "Is everything alright?"

Y/N's response was barely a whisper, her words devoid of their usual warmth and vitality. "I'm fine," she murmured, her voice hollow and distant.

Alcina's heart clenched at the lackluster response, a gnawing unease settling in the pit of her stomach. She took a step closer, her gaze searching Y/N's form for any sign of distress or discomfort. But Y/N remained unmoved, her back still turned to Alcina, her presence distant and detached.

Unable to suppress her growing concern, Alcina pressed further. "You don't seem yourself, my dear. Is there something troubling you?"

Y/N's reply was curt, her tone devoid of emotion. "I said I'm fine, Lady Dimitrescu. Please, don't worry about me."

But Alcina could not shake the feeling of disquiet that lingered in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to suffuse the very walls of the chamber. With a heavy heart, she retreated from Y/N's bedside, her thoughts consumed by worry and uncertainty.

Determined to uncover the truth behind Y/N's sudden change in demeanor, Alcina made her way to her study, the weight of concern pressing heavily upon her shoulders. With trembling hands, she reached for the ornate telephone that adorned her desk, her fingers tracing the familiar contours with a sense of urgency.

Dialing the familiar number, she waited with bated breath as the line connected, her heart pounding in her chest. When Donna's voice echoed through the receiver, Alcina wasted no time in conveying her fears, her words tumbling forth in a rush of urgency and desperation.

"Donna," she began, her voice betraying the tremor of anxiety that gripped her. "It's Y/N... something's wrong."

As Donna's voice emanated from the other end of the line, Alcina hastily recounted the peculiar behavior exhibited by Y/N—her listless demeanor, the vacant responses, the unsettling silence that hung in the air. Donna listened attentively, her intuition sharpened by the connection she shared with Y/N over the past seven months.

Alcina could sense the gravity of the situation in Donna's measured response. "Alcina, I know what's happening with Y/N. I'll be at the castle soon," Donna assured her, her voice a soothing balm to Alcina's troubled soul.

Relief mingled with curiosity as Alcina pressed further, "Is there anything I can do to help? I'm worried about her."

Donna's response carried a gentle but firm tone. "Alcina, this is something very personal to Y/N. She may not want anyone else to know. When I arrive, I'll handle it. Just give us some space, alright? It's Y/N's choice whether she wants to share this with you or not."

A mixture of understanding and concern settled within Alcina. While her instinct was to protect and care for Y/N, she respected the boundaries that Donna was urging her to recognize. Nodding, albeit in solitude, Alcina acknowledged Donna's request. "Very well, Donna. I'll await your arrival, and I'll respect Y/N's wishes."

Donna entered Y/N's chamber with a quiet determination, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling uncertainty that enveloped the room. Alcina watched from the doorway, her gaze fixated on the delicate interplay unfolding between Donna and Y/N.

Removing her veil with practiced grace, Donna approached Y/N's bedside with cautious steps, mindful of not startling the young maiden. With a softness in her voice that bespoke of both empathy and authority, Donna knelt before Y/N, her eyes meeting hers with unwavering compassion.

"Dolcezza," Donna murmured, her voice a gentle reassurance. "It's me. You're safe."

Y/N's gaze flickered briefly, a flicker of recognition dancing in her eyes before the veil of despondency once again descended upon her features. Donna's heart ached at the sight, her resolve strengthened by the urgency of the moment.

"What's troubling you, my love?" Donna inquired softly, her words a soothing melody in the midst of Y/N's turmoil.

Y/N's response was barely a whisper, her voice tinged with a sense of resignation. "I... I'm not sure. Everything feels... heavy."

Donna nodded understandingly, her gaze never wavering from Y/N's troubled countenance. "Let's start with something simple. What have you eaten today?"

Y/N's reply was barely audible, her voice hollow and distant. "Nothing."

Donna's heart sank at the admission, a pang of concern coursing through her veins. "Would you like to take a bath, dolcezza?" she offered gently, her words imbued with a tender concern for Y/N's well-being.

Y/N nodded slowly, her movements sluggish and hesitant. "Yes, but... I don't know if I can..."

Donna reached out, her touch feather-light as she wiped away a solitary tear that trailed down Y/N's cheek. "Shh, it's alright, my love. I'm here to help you," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm to Y/N's fractured spirit.

With each word, Donna sought to chip away at the walls that surrounded Y/N's heart, offering solace and support in equal measure. As she cradled Y/N's trembling form in her arms, Donna vowed to guide her through the darkness, to stand by her side until the shadows receded and the light of hope shone once more.

As Donna lifted Y/N's slight frame in her arms, a sense of tender determination filled her heart. With careful steps, she carried Y/N to the spacious bathroom adjacent to her chamber, Alcina's watchful gaze following their path.

"I'll take care of her, Alcina," Donna reassured, her voice a soft murmur that echoed through the silent halls. "I'll check in with you later."

With a nod of acknowledgment, Alcina retreated from the doorway, leaving Donna to tend to Y/N's needs. With practiced ease, Donna set about preparing the bath, the warm water filling the marble tub with a soothing embrace.

Guiding Y/N into the water, Donna's touch was gentle yet firm, her movements a symphony of care and compassion. She washed away the traces of distress that clung to Y/N's skin, her fingers working diligently to ease the burden that weighed heavily upon her heart.

As she rinsed the soap from Y/N's hair, Donna's voice filled the air, a melodic whisper that seemed to chase away the shadows of despair. With each stroke of the brush, she unravel the knots of tension that had ensnared Y/N's spirit, her touch a tender caress against the backdrop of uncertainty.

Once Y/N was cleansed and refreshed, Donna wrapped her in a plush towel, the soft fabric cocooning her in a comforting embrace. From the array of garments adorning Y/N's chamber, Donna selected a set of clean clothes, dressing her with a delicate touch.

With each movement, Donna's care was palpable, her presence a beacon of solace in the midst of Y/N's turmoil. She gently brushed and braided Y/N's hair, her fingers weaving a tapestry of comfort and reassurance.

Returning Y/N to her bed, Donna tucked her beneath the covers, her gaze tender as she met Y/N's weary eyes. "Are you comfortable, dolcezza?" she inquired softly, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet of the chamber.

Y/N nodded, a small smile gracing her lips as she reached out for Donna's hand. "Will you stay with me?" she whispered, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

As Donna settled beside Y/N, she gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, her touch light and tender. "Rest now, amore mio," she whispered, her voice a soothing murmur in the quiet of the chamber. "I will be here with you."

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, her breathing steady as she nestled closer to Donna's warmth. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

With a soft smile, Donna began to sing, her voice a lilting melody that filled the room with a sense of peace. The Italian lullaby flowed from her lips, its words carrying a timeless rhythm that lulled Y/N into a gentle slumber.

"La nanna della luna, Che fa sognare il cuor, Con le stelle come lacrime, Che cadono dal ciel." (The lullaby of the moon, That makes the heart dream, With stars like tears, That fall from the sky.)

As Donna's voice wove its enchanting spell, Y/N's breathing grew deep and even, her features relaxed in the embrace of sleep. With each verse, Donna's touch became a tender caress, her hand tracing soothing patterns along Y/N's back as they drifted into the realm of dreams together.

In the quiet of the night, their bond transcended words, their hearts entwined in a symphony of love and solace. And as the lullaby faded into the gentle hum of the night, Donna held Y/N close, her presence a testament to the enduring strength of their connection.

In that moment, amidst the stillness of the chamber, they found solace in each other's arms, their souls bound together by the unbreakable threads of love and devotion. And as dawn broke upon the horizon, casting its golden light upon the world outside, they knew that no matter what trials may come, they would face them together, united in their unwavering commitment to one another.

As Y/N succumbed to the embrace of sleep, Donna held her close, her presence a steadfast anchor amidst the turbulent sea of uncertainty. In the embrace of the night, they found solace in each other's arms, their bond a beacon of hope in the darkness.

Meanwhile, Alcina returned to Y/N's chamber, her steps light as she approached the closed door. Peering inside, she beheld the tender tableau before her—Donna cradling Y/N in her arms, the soft strains of a lullaby drifting through the air.

A small smile graced Alcina's features as she quietly closed the door, a sense of gratitude warming her heart. In that moment, she knew that Y/N was in good hands, her struggles tempered by the unwavering support of those who cherished her most.

With a sense of peace settling over her, Alcina made her way back to her study, her thoughts filled with hope for Y/N's recovery and gratitude for the steadfast presence of Donna in their lives.

[ddarker-dreams]

You think chrollo would find the irony of you stealing from him (like keys or his knife) funny enough to let the offence slide

chrollo is intimately acquainted with the human urge to take. it essentially serves as the basis for what few shreds of an identity he's got to cling to. so, out of all the offenses you can commit, he views this one in a more sympathetic light. this changes with context, however.

there's absolutely no chance you'll ever pull one over on him when he's around. you can try, he'll even let you, but the rug gets pulled out from underneath your feet eventually. then he's there to pick you back up and claim that's 'magnanimity.' he might regale you with some anecdote that if a thief is found out during the act from where he's from, they'll have their hand cut off. should you be particularly indignant, he'll make some ominous comment about which hand you couldn't envision yourself living without just to unnerve you. nice. real subtle.

your best bet is when he isn't around. which, unfortunately, doesn't happen often. or consistently enough for you to plan ahead. he purposefully keeps his future schedule vague so that brain of yours doesn't whip up any schemes. there have been times where he's told you he'll be gone until so and so, only to come back hours earlier. this is meant to discourage you from acting up while he's gone, as you'll always have the thought in the back of your head he could come back any second.

should you be capable of overcoming all these trials, don't expect confetti and a party horn chorus. he will not be happy if you pilfer something sharp. his smile won't reach his eyes as he lectures you on 'safety' in an overtly demeaning tone. keys and other non-threatening implements receive a lighter sentence. he'll know, yet go about his day with you acting as if he doesn't. he wants to stir up your anxiety. will you confess? beg for forgiveness? or will you hold out until the end, stubborn and proud? he looks forward to witnessing the infinite possibilities.

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 16

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

TW: Abortion as an option, light violence between sisters

If I forgot any TW, please let me know!

The lake shimmered beneath the gentle rays of the afternoon sun, its surface dotted with the occasional ripple where a stray leaf or bird’s feather met the water. Surrounding the lake were tall trees whose branches swayed lazily, offering shade from the warmth above. The breeze was soft, warm tender even, brushing through the reeds at the water's edge. It was a typical summer day and one could easily hear the buzzing of cicadas all afternoon. It was a place designed for peace, a sanctuary of nature where the muses often congregated for lazy leisure and might enjoy each other’s company undisturbed by the chaos of gods and mortals. And yet, tension now held the air hostage.

What was meant to be an afternoon of gentle persuasion had already turned sour.

Calliope sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the far side of the lake, with her back turned away from her sister. The gentle overture from Polyhymnia, the eldest of the muses, to begin the conversation—one that every muse but Calliope knew to be the very purpose of this gathering—had met with quiet resistance. What began as a moment of peaceful indulgence, as Polyhymnia softly brushed her hair in that familiar sisterly manner, soon transformed into a posture of defiance, quickened by the shift in the air, her sisters encircling her as if she were some creature ensnared. Their expressions ranging from concern and frustration.

“She is a spoiled child who saw something she could not have and worked in a devious way to take it!” Calliope’s voice rang out, raw with the emotion she could no longer suppress. Her dark eyes flashed with fury, but beneath that fiery surface, tears glistened, threatening to spill. Her sisters had ambushed her, invited her under false pretenses to what she believed would be a tranquil afternoon. Instead, they had brought their judgment, their warnings, and she could no longer bear the condescending in their demeanor.

“Sister!” Polyhymnia’s tone was sharp, her face marked with the effort of maintaining composure. “Do not speak of what you do not understand.” Her dark brows knitted together, and for the first time in this conversation, her regal calm began to waver. She had promised herself, and the others, that they would approach Calliope with reason, that their words would be tempered with love and concern, the way that was always the best to talk to Calliope, the only way to make her listen. But how difficult it was when faced with such stubbornness, such blindness.

Polyhymnia’s figure, always elegant, now felt rigid. Her dark, braided hair, so carefully woven into a crown, stood in contrast to the loose, windswept strands that framed Calliope’s tear-streaked face. Both sisters, mirror images in appearance, now seemed so far apart.

“What is there to understand?” Calliope spat, turning to face the older sister, even if it felt almost unbearable. “She got what she wanted, didn’t she? She trapped him, and Desire helped her. They plotted together to force him into this—this cage of a marriage!”

At this, Polyhymnia’s lips thinned, her patience unraveling thread by thread. But before she could form a response, Erato stepped forward, her eyes burning with righteous anger. "Is that the sweet lie Oneiros has been feeding you?” Her voice, sharp as a blade, cut through the air between them. Erato’s cheeks flushed with the heat of her own frustration, the kind that only sisters can invoke in one another. Though a few years older than Calliope, she moved with the restlessness of youth, her steps quick as she paced in front of the group. “Does he truly make you believe he is some victim of love, poor and powerless in the hands of a scheming queen?”

Polyhymnia sighed, casting a glance at Erato—her warning unheeded. She had told her sister not to let her closeness with Lady Love cloud the conversation. Erato and Calliope always had friction between them, disagreeing on even the most mundane topics, and Polyhymnia was clear that Erato should not let the emotions of the heart interfere with the delicate matter at hand. But now it was too late.

Her devotion to Lady Love had always made her the first to rush to protect the queen, and judge anyone that dares to speak ill of her. It could almost be compared to the devotion of cupids, although they would not like to be compared. And it showed now in every line of Erato's body.

“He is not kind to her, Calliope. Oneiros treats her with cruelty,” Clio interjected quietly, her voice steady, calm—too calm. She emerged from the lake, her red hair dripping as she wrung it out with slow deliberation, as if the conversation was but a trivial matter.

Calliope’s breath hitched. That calm tone unnerved her more than Erato’s fire. Clio, ever the pragmatist, always seemed to know more than she let on, as she was a specialist on every subject in the universe. And Calliope always believed in her sister's wisdom, now however it sounded as over-the-top pretentiousness. The younger muse looked up at her, seeing in her sister's expression not malice, but pity. And that, she could not abide.

“And what of it?” she replied, her voice now cold, detached. “He is cruel because she deserves it. He punishes her for what she took from him. A fitting retribution for all that she has deprived him of.”

In an instant, the air seemed to still. Polyhymnia’s breath caught, and the others exchanged startled glances. Then, with a sudden, sharp movement, Polyhymnia’s hand connected with Calliope’s cheek, the slap echoing in the quiet, idyllic scene. Not even the buzzing of cicadas could be heard.

Calliope’s hand flew to her cheek, stunned. She had not expected this. Not from Polyhymnia. A deep sense of betrayal flooded her, mingling with the stinging pain of the slap. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words, only a raw, wounded silence.

Polyhymnia’s chest heaved with the effort of regaining control, her hand still trembling slightly from the force of the blow. She never raised her hand to any of her sisters, she never resorted to violence and her immediate instinct was to hug Calliope, and beg for forgiveness. A quick glance at Clio, who locked eyes with Poly, gave her the strength to keep her stance. This was bigger than Calliope’s feelings. This was for her own good. “You defend a man who punishes his wife, and for what? A fleeting love that cannot last?” Her voice softened, but the steel remained. “This affair... it must end, Calliope.”

“She deserves it,” Calliope whispered, her voice barely audible, her pride still clinging to the remnants of defiance. Her sisters exchanged glances, even Euterpe, Melpomene, Thalia, Terpsichore, Urania who let the older ones guide the conversation, sitting on the side, realized with the exhausted sigh of Poly. They were no longer listening to her as a sister, but as a threat to their way of life.

Clio stepped forward, her eyes hard. If love and gentleness didn’t resolve, maybe rationality would. “And what of us, Calliope? What do we deserve? The wrath of the Queen of Four Loves for your defiance?”

The muses all knew what that meant. Lady Love’s sisters, the Ladies of Emotion, were known throughout the realms for their beauty, gracefulness, the embodiment of every form of feeling— They were good sisters, and loving nieces to the Aunts, but they were also known for their ruthless and unforgiving nature. Each had their way of exacting revenge. Honesty and Pride were quick to act when their husbands strayed, they had a tendency for the drama, crafting the bloodiest violent scenes as lessons to their husband.

Not that it worked, as their husbands were equally kin on bloodshed, feeling more proud and enticed by their wives. It is what Lady Honesty called “games of love”. Melancholy and Happiness had more long-term provoked suffering, playing with the lovers' emotion until they themselves ended their lives. Love didn’t agree with her sisters, and they would often fight when it came to discussion. Love used to say that they should punish their husbands for the infidelity, not the affairs they search for. Her sisters always disdain her opinion, saying that she would understand when she got a husband of their own.

Eoster promised herself to her if it ever came to infidelity, she would punish her husband and hold no ill against their lover. But more than often she broke that promise, and hated Calliope and referred to her by despicable names when fighting with Morpheus. Eoster knew it would elicit a reaction from him, she would have his attention, and after she hated herself for it, to reach so low, and found herself wanting her husband to defend her honor against the gossip and awful whispers that called her frigid and unfit, as he defended Calliope’s to her. But even in her lowest moments, Aphrodite never thought to resort to her sisters’ tricks and games. The muses however couldn’t know this, they couldn’t be certain, and they couldn’t risk it. It was for Calliope's own good and survival.

“If Lady Love chooses to punish you…,” Clio said, her voice now edged with fear, “She may be softer, but do not think her heart will remain unscathed by your defiance. She may not draw blood as Pride and Honesty do, but she can withhold her blessings, and with them, the very inspiration that keeps us alive.” Calliope’s sisters feared not just for her, but for themselves. They could not afford to anger the Queen of Love, the one who controlled mortal desires, the very prayers that sustained the Muses’ power.

Polyhymnia’s eyes hardened, her voice unwavering. “The mortals pray to us because they are moved by Love, Calliope. The songs, the poems, the art—it all begins with her. And if she turns away from them, if she takes away that spark… what would become of us?”

Calliope’s heart sank. She knew the weight of those words. Without the prayers, without the devotion of mortals, the Muses would fade. And it was all tied to Love, the queen whose influence stretched farther than even they could see.

“Oneiros won’t allow her. He promised me…” Calliope began, but her words sounded hollow even to her.

“Promised you?” Clio cut her off with a cold laugh. “What good are his promises when our very existence hangs in the balance? He will protect his queen, his soul, not you. You are a passing affair. She wears the crown.”

Polyhymnia stepped forward, her voice firm but tinged with sorrow. “You must understand, Calliope. This is not just about you or your heart. This is about all of us. We cannot risk losing everything for the sake of your… infatuation.”

Tears welled in Calliope’s eyes, but this time, they were not born of anger. They were tears of realization, of betrayal. Her sisters—her family—were not standing by her out of love or concern for her well-being. They were protecting themselves, preserving their own power.

Melpomene with her melodic voice, spoke for the first time, without directly facing Calliope, her tone different from all the others, she didn’t seem like to be talking directly to them, but to an invisible audience preaching a prophecy, her voice was distant “When push comes to shove, he will have one choice only. And she is the one sitting by his side, wearing his crown. She is, and always will be, his queen.”

Calliope looked at each of them, searching for a sign that they still cared for her, that their words came from love. But all she saw was fear—fear for their power, for their survival. They used the worry for her as an excuse to veil their desire of self preservation. The bond they shared, as muses, as sisters, had been broken, replaced by cold practicality.

She stood, feeling the sting of betrayal heavier than the slap across her cheek. She had lost her sisters.

—------------------ Calliope sat at the edge of the bed, her thoughts swirling as heavily as the storm outside the window. Her fingers rested on her belly, a gentle gesture, yet one laden with uncertainty. The Three stood before her, their dark chitons contrasting sharply against her pale gown, their presence an embodiment of fate and finality.

“My child,” the Mother began, her voice both tender and admonishing, “I feel for your tears, but you were warned. You were advised against this.”

Calliope had hesitated to summon them, but the silence of her sisters and the weight of her secret had driven her to desperation. She could no longer bear the burden alone. Weeks had passed without her monthly bleeding, and as the truth of her condition settled in, fear took its place. Oneiros had to know—yet how? How could she speak of the life growing inside her when the very act of creating it was shrouded in betrayal?

She could almost see the dream she once had, seemingly a lifetime ago, before the complications. Calliope watches them from the window from the same bedroom she sat now. A child wrapped in Morpheus’s arms, eyes like the starry skies of the Dreaming, cherished by the Lord of Dreams, as Morpheus would cradle him with the same tenderness he once held for her. How Morpheus would love him, their child, his child. She knew that, just as surely as she knew the stars would continue to shine. A father of stories would fill their child’s nights with tales of the Dreaming. In another life, perhaps, it would be a perfect future. But perfection, Calliope now knew, was fragile.

“It is the last time,” said the Crone, disapproval dripping from her lips as if she had already judged Calliope’s heart. “That is what she said, the last time,” echoed the Maiden, sitting beside Calliope and placing a compassionate arm around her shoulders.

Every breath Calliope took seemed to make the room smaller, as though the air itself was pushing in on her. “Please, my mothers, what shall I do? I crave your guidance.” A blessing it should be. A blessing that belongs only in that perfect life in her dream life.

Because the moment the universe learned of this child, the whispers, and gossip would become insufferable. A scandal, which according to Oneiros, was all that Love wanted to avoid. The Lady of Love herself floated through socials with her sweet, brittle smile and gentle manners. But a child would be different. No amount of feigned ignorance or public pleasantries would quell the storm that would follow.

Calliope knew little of Eoster beyond her public mask—preaching love, displaying polite affection for her husband, always by his side, with her hand holding his arm, in a way that grated on Calliope’s nerves. She expected to see a fracture in her facade or regret, but the Lady of Springs was always composed. In private, Eoster was miserable; Calliope knew this. And yet, despite her misery, the queen had never directly harmed her. She didn’t torture her by any means. But could she trust that?

Eoster might not harm the child, but Calliope didn’t know that. What guarantees did she have, besides Morpheus' word?

And worse— She could see the future as clearly as she could feel the weight in her womb—Morpheus loving their child, yes, but unable to silence the outside judgment. He could not protect him from the scorn of entities, nor from the cruelty of his own family. What would be his place in the universe? The opinion of others might not be relevant to the Dream King, but to a child, it might shape their future.

“I see it,” Calliope whispered, her voice trembling. “I see the life we could have. The child would be so adored by his father, loved as no child could dream to be loved. But...”

Her voice faltered as the weight of the decision pressed down upon her.”My mothers, What would you have me do?” She repeat the question, craving for an answer, for an solution made by others. If she kept the child, he would be a source of joy, but also a source of endless conflict. Their son would grow up knowing he was not entirely welcome, his very existence a reminder of the broken vows of a True Marriage. Would Eoster ever allow Calliope’s child to feel love? Or would she punish him by devoiding him from the feeling? An empty shell, never satisfied, never knowing what is missing.

“It is not a question of what we would have you do,” replied the Mother, her expression softening as she seated herself beside Calliope. “It is a question of what your heart will allow.”

Calliope’s gaze fell to the small cup in the Crone’s hands. The tea was warm, fragrant, almost inviting. “Poppy for a dreamless sleep,” said the Mother. “Peony and safflower to ease your pains, and honey to sweeten the bitterness.”

She stared at the cinnamon-colored liquid, her heart pounding in her chest. How easy it would be—just a sip, and the terrible weight that had settled in her bones would lift. Maybe in a few decades she would tell him. What would he think of her then? Morpheus would forgive her, embrace her, soothe her pain, but beneath that forgiveness would always lie a wound—a wound that would never heal, because she had taken away something he would have loved beyond all measure. He would always feel betrayed, even if he never said it aloud.

The Maiden’s voice broke her thoughts. “What pains you now will not pain you any longer.”

But Calliope’s hands were already trembling. Could she live knowing that she had denied her child the life he could have had, the father who would have adored him, all because she feared entities whose whole lives revolve around gossiping and whispering lies? Could she truly carry on, lying beside him, pretending as though nothing had happened?

She looked at the tea again, the weight of her decision pressing down harder with every passing second. She imagined again her child in Morpheus’s arms, the life they could share together. But then the universe’s whispers crept in—the cruel, cutting judgments, the sarcastic jokes and mean laughs, the reminders that their love was hurting love itself.

The Mother’s voice broke through her thoughts, gentle yet firm. “A child can be a blessing.”

“And a curse,” added the Crone, her tone far less comforting. “What the Dream Lord gives to one, he denies to another.” Calliope closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She had made her choice, though the weight of it bore heavily on her heart. “I will talk to Oneiros,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The Three exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. The Mother spoke softly. “Guard your heart, for his answer may not be what you wish it to be.”

“And yet,” the Maiden added, “perhaps it will be.”

Calliope swallowed hard, fear and hope warring within her. Whatever path she chose, it was clear: there would be no peace. Whether she kept the child or ended its life, the scars would remain forever. Yet one thing she knew—she could not bear the weight of this choice alone. Morpheus had to know, and together they would face whatever came.

But the final words from the Three echoed loudest of all, chilling her to the bone. “Remember dear Calliope, if you keep this child, it will never be entirely only your son. It belongs to the Dreaming, and tragedy follows the Dream King.”

—------------------ They had a home, the Dream King and Calliope. It wasn't a palace, like the one in the Dreaming or the one in the Garden. It was a quiet home nestled within a secluded glade, where the trees whispered ancient secrets, and the light filtered through leaves in soft, golden dapples. It was their escape from both their realities. And Calliope and Morpheus were content there, the best they could, taking the circumstances. The land around them was pastoral, untouched by time—wildflowers spilled across the meadow, and a gentle stream wound lazily through the valley. It was a place that seemed to belong more to myth than reality, where dreams and reality blurred together, a sanctuary for their love.

In the early days, the thought of ending her pregnancy had never truly surfaced in their conversation. Calliope’s worry were clouded by the unexpected emotion by her so often introspective king. Morpheus had cradled her growing belly with tender reverence, his dark eyes softened by the love he felt for the life within her. Orpheus grew in their little bubble, they had built dreams of their son, untarnished by the harshness of the universe beyond. And Calliope had been cherished, adored by the Lord of Dreams as if nothing else mattered.

But no child can be forever protected, and Orpheus grew into a fine gentleman, and gifted of music. He was enamored by life and nature, and soon, against his mother’s wishes, started to frequent socials, only from the greek pantheon, which Aphrodite was usually absent. His charisma and harmonic voice, inherited from his mother, soon made him a dear guest at any greek social. Both Calliope and Morpheus forbade him from going to any universal manifestation meeting. Until one day his eyes turned to a girl that always ran way, but in early spring, decided to stay longer than usual, to celebrate the spring solstice and the good fortune that came from mortal’s abundant harvest.

And from a young love, the promised tragedy came.

“I am going to kill her!” Calliope's voice, raw from endless weeping, cracked with a fierce determination as Morpheus appeared, his presence still and impenetrable as ever. Her face was gaunt, cheeks hollow from the toll grief had taken. She had not truly slept since Orpheus' death, haunted by the cruel fate that had befallen her son.

Morpheus stood there, watching her, his expression unchanged—a figure wrapped in shadows, the weight of the Dreaming ever present in his silence.

“My beloved, calm down,” he said, his voice low, distant. But the words felt empty to her, hollow like the chasm now carved into her heart.

“Calm down? She killed him, Morpheus!” Calliope’s fists clenched, her eyes wild with fury. “She used that girl—Eurydice! She took him from us on the day of their wedding, trapped him in darkness. Our dear boy…”she wailed, her voice thick with sorrow. “He will hate the Underworld. He loved the sun, the earth, the very breath of life. And now... now, he is lost, forever entrapped, his soul, his poor soul.” Her sobs broke free again, as though the tears would never end.

Morpheus said nothing. He simply held her, as he had done countless times before, letting the storm of her grief rage while he remained the silent center. Rain began to fall in the Dreaming, clouds swirling above, a reflection of Calliope’s inner torment. He, however, was removed from it. His thoughts drifted to the Garden, to the figure of Love, serene in her eternal role, utterly unaware of this grief. He hadn’t seen Eoster in what felt like an age. The thought of her, oddly, surfaced now, perhaps jealousy of her unremarkable week. The bond was quiet, it has been for a few thousand of years.

Calliope’s tear-streaked face turned up toward him. “Promise me you will bring her to justice. Promise me that you will make her pay.” Morpheus’ eyes darkened. “Calliope... Eoster had nothing to do with this.”

“How can you be so sure?!” Her voice broke with disbelief. “There was a mortal girl, Morpheus. He followed her because he loved her. Loved, Morpheus. Does that sound familiar to you?”

He averted his gaze, jaw tight. “I warned him. I told him not to pursue Eurydice.”

“And that is all you have to say?” Her voice trembled with rising anger. “You warned him?” She scoffed bitterly. “She despised him. She despised me. Her sisters, her aunts, her cupids, her circle of protégés—they all called him a bastard behind your back, they shunned your son. Who do you think allowed that?”

“They needed no permission to behave as they did. Eoster does not control them any more than I can control the tides of time. She would not—”

“Why are you defending her?” Calliope’s voice was raw with accusation. “Orpheus’ blood is barely cold, and you’re here defending her! Why are you not feeling this? Why are you not seeking justice for your own flesh and blood? He was your son!”

Morpheus’ voice hardened, though his expression barely shifted. “Do not mistake my restraint for indifference. I grieve our son. But I will not be ruled by madness.” “Madness?” she spat. “Is that what you call a mother’s grief?” Her breath caught as she trembled. “How can you be so... How can you not see that she is responsible for this?”

His voice was ice, unyielding. “Eoster would never harm a child. She is the queen of love, of family. She would not break her vows so easily.”

Calliope's laughter came sharp and bitter. “Easily?” She whipped a tear from the side of her eye” Wouldn’t be the first time she’s bent her ‘sacred vows’ to get what she wants.”

A brief flicker of emotion crossed Morpheus’ face—something too fleeting to grasp. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself in the calm he always maintained. “Do not speak of what you don’t understand.” It was difficult to explain the bond, how he could be certain that Eoster had nothing to do with it. How he could vouch for her innocence even after years of not seeing her. How he knew her nature even if he didn’t properly know his wife as one often does.

“No. You’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can stand there defending her—defending the woman who has scorned us since the day of that accursed marriage, who has despised your son from the moment of his birth.”

Silence.

Something dark and cold settled in her gaze as she looked at him.”Oh, I see” Calliope let out a sharp, mirthless laugh, one that sent shivers through the cold air. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Her voice dropped to a low, venomous whisper. “That’s why you don’t care. She’s carrying your heir—your legitimate heir.” Morpheus’ brow furrowed, his face set like stone. “Calliope, that is not—”

“That’s why!” she cried, interrupting him, voice rising in hysteria. “That’s why you defend her! You have a new child to look forward to, a new legacy to secure. You won’t accuse the mother of your ‘legitimate’ heir, will you?”

His voice, usually a command in the realms of dream and reality, faltered for the briefest of moments. “Do you hear yourself? I know you are in pain, but do not twist this into something it is not.”

Her eyes blazed. “When push comes to shove, you’ll have only one choice.”

“What?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow.

“You’ll choose her. The one wearing the crown. Sitting by your side.” Calliope’s voice was cold now, final.

Morpheus moved closer, trying to reach her with words, with a touch—but she recoiled.

“Get out,” she demanded, her voice barely audible.

“Calliope, please...”

“Get out!” she screamed, her face twisted in grief, in rage.

Morpheus stood there, the weight of centuries pressing down on him, but his expression remained impassive. He gave a small nod, turned, and walked away.

Even as the pocket sand wrapped him, Calliope’s heartache echoed through the emptiness, and Morpheus was left to face the terrible truth—he could not bridge the gap between them. She would always hate him, see him as the one who could not protect their child.

And somewhere in the depths of his silence, he knew she was right.

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya @notyourwildestdream @roxytheimmortal

[v3nusxsky]

OMG glad that you have the new Kinktober bingo 😆. Could I request Regina mill x reader with rough sex and punishment? Maybe the reader was being brat so Regina has to put them in their place.

Please 🥺

Thank you

Little Girl 18+

*Authors note~ this covers the rough sex and/or punishment square on this bingo and is my first fic of Kinktober! Enjoy;)*

Trigger warnings~ rough punishment sex, r is an exhibitionist, dirty talk, humiliation kink, degrading kink, mistress kink, edging, orgasm denial, cock (dildo) warming, fingering, spanking, office sex?

Prompt~see ask^^^^

Covers this bingo square

Working as an intern for your girlfriend sounded like an amazing opportunity for you to gain real experience and attend the university of storybrook to get your degree. Of course Regina wouldn’t favour you just because of who you were. No. The regal woman ensured you’d work for the position fair and square, despite knowing you were the only worthy candidate. Only now when you were snowed under by multiple assignments and attempting to balance working and school did you consider that maybe you’d taken too much on your plate. These days you felt like you were mentally drowning, physically exhausted and emotionally a mess.

It wasn’t like she didn’t warn you when your behaviour began to fall on the brattier side. Her good girl fading away into nothing but a bratty whore desperately begging to be put back into her place. “Keep it up, you won’t like the situation you end up in” the raven haired mayor almost snarled at you as once again you were pushing her buttons, breaking the carefully discussed and agreed upon rules. One by one. She’d tried to be patient with you but being lenient was definitely not something that came naturally due to being queen in the Enchanted forest. Regina mills was use to her commands being met and would never tolerate ignorance. Not even from you. Her patience was wearing thin now.

It didn’t take you wrong to break the next rule. A basic rule she instilled for your wellbeing. As her lover and submissive she needed to ensure you were well cared for. Yet, you seemed to be hell bent on getting on her last nerve, refusing to eat her famous lasagna in favour of working on an assignment. Now, she could’ve left you. Perhaps you simply weren’t hungry. But as soon as she began to take a bite of her lunch your stomach protested. Painfully obvious that you simply were ignoring your own basic needs. She couldn’t. No. She wouldn’t stand for this any longer. “Eat your lunch little girl or you really won’t like what happens to you next” she threatened, the indigo swirls masking her beautiful chocolate covered irises. “what are you going to do? punish me?” Your retort unknowingly breaking any restraint Regina had left. A quick glance at the clock and a flick of her wrist was all it took for you to realise what you’d done.

Your comfortable hoodie and joggers gone within an instant, replaced with a sheer see through bra and short checkered skirt. A shiver working its way through you as you took in your appearance. “Regina?! What the hell!” You whined loudly. She couldn’t be serious? Could she? “There’s people outside” you protested in a hope she would forget her plans. “i dont care who’s outside” was all she snapped back reminding you over a specific night to which you agreed to be used in this manner for a punishment. The thought being arousing but unsure if she would ever act upon that conversation until now.

Seemingly unbothered by your whines of protest she continued to use her magic to produce a girthy six inch purple dildo that was suctioned to her office floor before using her magic to hover you in place, just so the head of the faux cock brushed against your soaked lips. “You will sit here until I’m ready to deal with what a bratty slut you’ve become the past few days. I suggest you use this time during my meeting to think about what you need to be reprimanded for little girl.” Before you could protest she lowered your body down slowly allowing your cunt to accept the head of the cock before slamming you down the rest of the length. “I’ll deal with you later” was all she offered before turn her back to you and allowing the meeting members to enter.

Despite the added eyes that raked over your form, your lover didn’t even spare you a glance, the meeting flowed in the same ways you’d observed before. Regina took the lead and remained firm to her agenda. Any off topic comments or questions were met with a hard stare or slight scoff at the stupidity before moving on. Soon enough the overwhelming feeling of being so full while everyone in the room knew what was occurring had your poor cunt leaking on the floor, the room thick with the scent of your arousal. It wasn’t long before you caught the attention of Emma swan. Her years as a bails bond person leaving her with many talents about reading people. You’d almost feel bad, if you weren’t enjoying the slither of attention so much. She wasn’t Regina however some attention was most certainly better than none.

Pert nipples straining to be free of the sheer skimpy bra, accompanied by a beautiful blush covering the tops of your breasts and your slender neck were on full display to the room. You should’ve been ashamed really as you held the blonde sheriffs glance and began to rut against the faux cock wedged within your soaked walls. But it just felt so damn good. Regina never said you couldn’t enjoy this moment so why would you stop? Not when you could feel eyes on you now, watching the show you were so gladly providing the room. Every roll of your hips nestled the toy deeper into your awaiting core, drawing what started as small gasps and whines of pleasure before growing into moans. Seething. Regina mills was seething. Quickly dismissing the members of her meeting she needed to attend to you. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, i won’t wait, I’ll punish you there and then do you understand little girl?” She seethed, “such a filthy whore you had to fuck yourself in front of Miss Swan didn’t you?”

“No I you” you stuttered out as your hips were magically lifted from the drenched toy before you could finally fall over the edge of bliss. “What?” Was all you could mumble as she effortlessly positioned your ass up as she bent you over her desk. “You didn’t say I couldn’t -“ you started to defend your slutty actions only to be silenced but her manicured hands lifting the poor excuse of a skirt and exposing your round globes to the world. “Your ass is so soft… imagine how pretty it’ll look with my handprint on it.” She murmured in thoughtfulness before muttering a spell to keep your legs bound and spread wide for her viewing. “Slutty little girls shouldn’t enjoy their punishments darlimg, surly even a dumb little thing like you would know that? Now count for your mistress.”

Within the first few strikes of her hand to your soft skin you began to babble about how you didn’t do anything wrong. Regina never said you couldn’t fuck yourself on her toy. But she didn’t give you the green light of permission either. “Speak up little girl or I’ll add five more. You know I can’t stand mumbling.”

By strike ten you still had fight in you that didn’t belong. The witch was growing tired of your pathetic noises now, “that sounds like an excuse, i want a confession.” By strike twenty you broke, sobbing out broken confessions for every rule youd broken and begging her for forgiveness. Both ass cheeks sporting a beautiful shade red raw and small welts from her own hand. Stunning. You would never understand how absolutely gorgeous you are in the moment, but she did.

You couldn’t help the obscenely loud moan of pain mixing with pleasure as she plunged her two fingers into your awaiting pussy. “Do you want them to hear you being such a slut?” She tutted in disappointment before reaching her free hand round to shove four fingers into your mouth, pressing ever so perfectly on your tongue. A mixture of moans and gags were all that filled the room besides the filthy sounds of her fingers drilling into your cunt, bringing you to the edge once more. “Please mistress! Need to cum” you mumbled round her fingers as your pussy clenched around her digits.

“No little girl, you’re in trouble, you don’t get to demand anything from me.” She whispered removing her fingers from your needy core and switching the arousal covered ones with her spit covered ones, “clean your filthy mess” she commanded and left you no choice but to obey. So submissive that you’d walk over hot coals just to please her. Finally back to her sweet little girl, who’d do anything for her. Finally back where you belonged.

Word count ~1531

[honeytabbies]

OKAY. HERE WE GO. my black bulls doggies!!!! :D

there's definitely a noticeable difference in style/quality of some of these just due to time between each design and/or how i was feeling at the time of drawing them (these hot and rainy summer months have been super rough on me)

ALSO they were all done symmetrically so that i wouldn't burn out and could actually finish them LOL . OK EVERYBODY BELOW

starting off with asta, a husky/coyote mutt!! :D in my au, devil users end up becoming hybrids of whatever their devil is. so since liebe is a coyote, that's what asta is too!! (also, i haven't drawn him yet, but yuno is a malamute :D similar looking breeds but different since they're not actually related!)

(here's liebe too hehe, scrappy lil coyote!!)

then of course, noelle, who's a saluki!! a very regal breed for a very royal gal!! i thought making her pigtails into her ears was a fun idea HEHEHE

(+ an alternate design version!)

here's finral, he's a shetland sheepdog!! gentle and sweet and always trying to herd his people together :) you might notice that with some of my designs, i end up doing extra scarring; that's usually just personal headcanons, as i think some injuries would be too grievous to fully heal. though some (for instance, gauche) don't have a canon story behind them, i just think they're fitting

vanessa, who's a cavalier king charles spaniel!! her ears sorta blend into her hair lol, i had an alternate version where they were the same darker brown as her fur but i decided that them blending in looked better and fit the breed standard as well.

gauche, the ever wary american akita!! being a fiercely loyal and protective breed, but aloof and suspicious of strangers.

then there's grey, who's a long-haired chihuahua!! sweet and skittish HEHE, also i haven't drawn it yet but i've always imagined her big transformation disguise that she's first introduced as to be a rottweiler LOL

next up is luck, a jack russell terrier!! i've always thought this was a very fitting breed pick, intelligent but highly energetic and a little mischievous !!!

and of course, magna is never far behind luck; he's a dobermann pinscher!! similar to luck in energy and intelligence, but even more fiercely protective of his loved ones.

GORDON!!! actually one of my favourite black clover characters, he's a dalmatian not only because of the fitting aesthetic, but also because of his kind and sensitive personality!

the masked supermage zora, a german shepherd! watchful and sometimes stubborn but loyal nonetheless made this pick fairly easy to come to. though, before getting to see more of him, my initial pick was actually a kai ken!

charmy's design is one that i'm the most proud of for sure; i mentioned in an earlier post that the different peoples are different species of animals. well charmy is a half toy poodle, half american badger!! i thought a badger was a VERY fitting pick, as they are generally unbothered by much unless their food is threatened LOL

and finally, lastly (for now) is nero!! she's a bull terrier, but i really wanted to keep her twin tails from her anti-bird form! her outfit is definitely the one i edited the most, i just wanted to give her something more practical out of personal preference.

additionally, henry is an old english sheepdog, nacht is a black norwegian elkhound/fox, and yami is a wolfdog!

I HAVE SOME OTHER CHARACTERS DOODLED HERE AND THERE but nothing else really finished yet. if there's a specific character anyone would like to see i would be SO happy to draw/doodle them to show off!! i honestly have a huge list of dog/cat breeds picked out for every character i could think of; i just am hellishly indecisive and can never pick who to start on next AHDSJAGDJSDK

THE POSITIVE RECEPTION TO MY ART SO FAR HAS MADE ME SO HAPPY BTW AUAGGHHH i have no idea how/if im able to reply to people directly but just know that i keep reading over everyone's reblog tags and stimming like crazy IM SO HAPPY THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH AUHGHFEHGGRH

[live-tweeting-hotg]

You Don't Think, Do You [Daemon x Reader]

summary: the princess of Dorne struggles to see eye to eye with the Rogue Prince.

warnings & content: heavy smut 18+ (minors dni), porn with little plot, non/dubcon, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, mean!dom!daemon, rough sex, fingering (fem receiving), p in v, creampie, titty slapping, he puts a sword to her neck, power imbalance, size kink, light breeding kink, degradation, dumbification, mentions of arranged marriage, rhaenyra? who's that (this is so nasty I'm not sure why I wrote this)

words: 2.5k

You let the heavy door shut swing behind you, feeling your annoyance threatening to bubble over. The crown princess of Dorne, regal, powerful, tremendously able… shipped off to this miserable rock to sign a perfunctory piece of paper. You wanted to scream, thought better of it, and let out a tight breath of air somewhere between a hiss and a sigh. 

It was almost like you were being punished for something, yet the entirely civil pretence of it meant you didn’t quite dare ask.

You stand in the room rigidly, exhausted, yet restless with a twitchy sort of tension. To your side, on the large sprawling table, you spot a set of ornate wine cups, fighting off the urge to smash one onto the ground. You were a guest, you reminded yourself, and the renewal of the treaty was necessary nonetheless. A pointless feat, but the prince seemed satisfied enough with the content, despite his bored demeanour at the meeting. 

The thought of him almost set you off again. He had spent the entire evening listening to you present the treaty with a raised brow, insisting that you explain every line to him in detail even though there wasn’t a single difference between this and the one preceding it. He smirked when you talked, scoffed when you paused, and spent the remaining time staring at the low cut of your dress. 

If this was in Dorne, you think you may have had his eyes cut out. 

The knock at your door was a welcome distraction to your agitation. You blink, realising you had spent a good few minutes standing in the middle of the empty room like an idiot, turning to answer the door. 

“Princess, I’ve just been made aware of the most interesting thing,” Daemon declares at you when you open the door, before you can even greet him. His frame almost obscures the entire doorway, the scabbard of his sword colliding loudly with the doorframe, leaving you with a strange sense of claustrophobia. He was disorientating, you decided.

“What,” you say back dumbly, after a brief pause, not entirely certain what else you could reply given the strange situation.

His frame slides forward without warning, and you move back instinctively as he lets himself into your— his— room. “I hear of unfavourable things in Sunspear,” he says, fixing you under his gaze. “I hear of treason, plots against the King…”

“Spies,” he finishes softly, face impassive, watching you intensely to gauge a reaction.

You are entirely lost. 

“I am unaware—” You begin, before he cuts you off again.

“Are you a spy, princess?” The words are soft, almost chiding, and you think you spot the hint of a smirk at his lips. 

You were so dizzy you almost felt nauseous. The context of this was absurd. He was in your room, alone and late, interrogating you whether you were spying— for who?! you wanted to scream. Your rising unease made it more and more difficult to be civil.

“Who would I be spying for?” you say, slowly, tone incredulous. “This is… most strange, and unfounded—” you find your voice rising steadily as your confusion gives way to indignation, and more annoyance. 

He hums, crosses his arms casually, and you could swear you saw his eyes twinkling. 

“—and insane!” you finish, throwing the word at him like a pointed rock. He cocks his head lazily and dodges it. 

“You’re getting very worked up over something unfounded, princess,” he remarks, uncrossing his arms, voice suddenly quieter as he stalks towards you. You don’t move back, because you want to slap him when he comes close enough. 

“If this is a jest, I fail to see the amusement,” you tell him sharply, the regal certainty seeping back into your stance, even as he towers over you. 

Up close, you notice the fine lines of his sharp, angular face, the eyes set deep into them and the coldness behind his haughty demeanour. When he takes another step towards you, you step back, suddenly uncertain.

“I think I just need to check, princess,” he says softly, almost apologetic. “if you’re carrying… anything untoward. It’ll be a formality.”

your anger flares. “I will not be subject to your ridiculous whims.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken. “It’s a simple search, princess. Hardly ridiculous.” 

“I don’t think—” your voice rises hotly, then falls flat as you’re interrupted by the sharp grate of his sword as he bares his blade, cocking his head almost thoughtfully, raising it to rest at the side of your neck. It is almost wider than your shoulder. 

“No,” he coos, smirking down at you. “you don’t think, do you.” He tilts his blade so it digs into the soft skin under your jawline. “I need to search you, princess. And I won’t ask again.”

He is clearly fucking insane, you realise. 

“…Alright,” you breathe out slowly, agreeably, the heat draining from your voice, and he hums appreciatively before sheathing his sword. 

“Turn around, princess. Arms out.” 

You stand rigidly as he moves behind you, feeling his large hands rest on your shoulders, practically breathing down your neck. A pool of dread settles in your stomach. You knew of his reputation, as did everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, but with you…?

He moves slowly, deliberately, down the length of your arms, his hand wide enough to almost circle it entirely. He returns to your waist, feeling the curve of your hips through your gown, tutting when you shift uncomfortably. “Behave,” he chides at you as he moves higher, practically palming your tits through your dress. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to deal out a harsh squeeze, huffing out a laugh as you flinch.

“I fear the princess is hiding too much,” he breathes into your ear, arm snaking around your waist as you stiffen uncomfortably, pressing you back against his firm chest. His free hand pushes down the neckline of your dress insistently. “I think she’ll need to bare some more loyalty to her prince.” 

Your face flushes as you swallow thickly. “This is improper,” you say weakly.

He shoves you hard from behind as you squeak in surprise, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Strip,” he said simply, face cold. His sword swings at his side.

You swallow again, staring at him, but he meets your gaze cooly with his strange violet eyes, watching you as you slowly unlace your dress, letting it fall to your feet with a soft thump. 

“The rest too,” he states softly, and you comply tensely, your face burning. You stare at the floor, completely bare before him as he crosses his arms again, drinking in your humiliation like a fine vintage. 

“A fine sight,” he hums appreciatively at last. You grit your teeth, sensing some vague end to his game, before he sighs again. “Forgive me for being thorough, princess.”

Your eyes widen as you hear his smirk. “Bend over the table.” 

“You can’t,” you blurt out without thinking, the colour draining from your cheeks. “Please, no—”

“You will bend over the table, or I will do it for you.” His voice is smooth and casual, as if he had been commenting on the weather. “And I promise it’ll hurt you a lot more.”

Your legs feel like lead. Your entire body feels like lead as you somehow walk yourself over, bending awkwardly over it. Like a slab of meat, you thought viciously. It is almost too high for you, and you’re left on your tiptoes, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles as your face burned. He comes up behind you, tutting. “You know what to do, princess. Legs apart.”

You feel your spine tingle viscerally as you comply, spreading yourself completely before him. The first strike catches you completely off guard as his hand comes down firmly on your bare cunt, forcing a choked scream out of you as your hips buck unconsciously from the contact. It burned your pride more than the stinging shock on your sex. Daemon only laughs as his hand finds the small of your back, shoving your hips back onto the edge of the table as you gasp in pain. 

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he mocks. “I think you need to be reminded how to behave, hm?” You yelp as he slaps you again, then another time for good measure, as you writhe and whimper under him, tears brimming your eyes. “All talk, aren’t you? Just won’t shut up in that hall, think you’re so fucking smart…” A slap landed directly on your bud, the pain making you scream out. 

The way he treated you, the painful stimulation, and the fact that he had you naked bent over a desk whilst he was fully dressed…

He slid a finger along your folds, laughing quietly to himself. “My little princess liked that, hm? My, you’ve made quite the mess.” You feel it as he spreads your growing wetness down your thigh, hips twitching at the sensitivity. You are suddenly somewhat grateful that he has your face pressed into the desk. 

“What?” he mocks again. “Nothing to say?” 

You open your mouth, ready with a retort before he shoves two thick fingers into your wet heat, ripping a pained moan from you. You were certainly wet enough, but the stretch still stung, especially with his uncaring force. 

“That’s more like it,” he snorted as he scissored his fingers, stretching you out, feeling inside you casually. “Nothing here, princess,” he hummed innocently as he curled his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot inside you, smirking as you tightened around him involuntarily, sobbing. “It’s a shame… I could have had you put in the dungeons for treason, hm? Then I’d take you on your knees, yeah? Maybe I still can… Just needs my cock in your throat to shut you up, my little whore…” 

Your mind swims uncomfortably. His voice in your ear, the cold wood grating against your abused breasts, his fingers, filling you up in the way yours never could, the wet sounds of him fucking into you… His free hand comes down to rub furious circles around your pearl, and you sob out his name. 

“Yeah, princess?” he groans into the soft shell of your ear. “You’re close, I feel you getting tighter. Come on then, fuck, my royal whore, come on my fingers…”

You come apart with a silent cry, arching your back into him, tears streaming down your face as he tears your peak from you. He fucks you through it lazily, his fingers pumping into you, slowing only when you whimper from the overstimulation. He wipes his hand on your thigh, not giving you a second to recover before he drags you back up by your hair. 

“I apologise for not believing you, princess,” he breathes into your ear, as your eyelids flutter. Distantly, you register the sound of him undoing his breeches, lowering them just enough to take out his thick, weeping cock, giving it a few impatient jerks. “You’ve proven yourself to be… quite innocent, on this matter. But it’s improper for a host to let his guest leave him feeling so empty, isn’t it?” 

You barely register his words, whimpering helplessly as he pulls your legs either side of him, your face coming to rest awkwardly on his chin. “You’re not even fucking listening, are you,” he huffs, rubbing soothing circles on your back, dipping his head closer to speak to you. “I was just telling how I’m going to fuck your dripping hole so fucking hard,” he groans, sheathing himself entirely into you with one rough thrust, “that you’ll feel it in your fucking throat.” 

You scream out at the pain as he holds you, shushing you as you cling to him, clawing at his back. You feel him through the haze, deep and firm, too big inside you, splitting you open. When the initial sharpness of the pain fades, you’re left with a strange ache deep inside you, contracting desperately around him. Daemon tests shallow thrusts into you, grunting into your ear as he lowers you onto his cock, slapping your breasts to watch them bounce. “I knew you fucking liked it, slut,” he groans, squeezing experimentally at your throat. You whimper incoherently, feeling him thrust inside with more force.

“Too… big,” you complain hazily, through a hiccup of smaller moans that he forced out of your mouth. The angle was cruel. He had lifted you up, then thrusted up into you from below, trapping you between your weight downwards and his cock upwards. His arms trapped you in, holding you to his much larger chest as he nuzzled into the crook of shoulder, laughing.

“Yeah, too big for you?” he mocks. “Hurts, does it?” Daemon bites into your shoulder, groaning into you as you squeeze around him. “We’ll just have to fuck you open until you learn to take your husband’s cock, hm?” 

You register his words dimly, unable to really do much about it as you stare up at him through dazed eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. 

He reaches down, cupping your cheek as he continues breaking you apart. “Heard that, princess? Why do you think they sent you here instead of anyone else, hm?” He laughs again when he hears you sob. “You’re crying? Fuck, I love that.” 

“I won’t…” you grit out, voice almost breaking.

“You will,” he insists sadistically, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek, licking at your tears. “see, they said you might not come willingly, but I suppose you won’t have a choice when I fuck a babe into you, yeah?” 

you whimper as he fucks into you with renewed vigour, your walls clenching involuntarily at his words. “So you can listen,” he groans into you, hand tightening in your hair to yank your head back. “keep doing that, yeah, good girl…” 

His free hand dips lower. With you impaled wide open on his cock, your bud is left vulnerably exposed, and he flicks at it mindlessly, drinking in your whines. “Gonna fuck my seed into you, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna fuck it so deep you’ll drip for days, my pretty little wife, such a good little wife for me…”

He slaps your tits once, twice, and then you’re spasming uncontrollably around his cock as your peak rips through you, feeling his warmth flood into you and drip down your thighs. You crumple into him, sobbing against his chest as he strokes your hair, shushing you. You feel his cock slip out of you as he picks you up gently, carrying you to the bed, stepping over your discarded clothes. 

You’re laid down onto the cushions softly, half-conscious, and Daemon wraps his arms around you from behind. “You might as well learn to like it, princess,” he hums into your ear as you’re flipped over into the bed, his hands on you again. “I don’t think I’ll be finished with you for a long time.” 

[b0xerdancer-writes]

Paper Faces on Parade

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: Tamlin was once mates with Rhysand's younger sister, but in his eageness to properly court her he did not see his father's deception and almost got her killed. Rhysand let him live upon realizing it was a honest clouded judgment error but that Tamlin would have to spend the rest of his life making it up to her, though when she believes Tamlin to have given up on her she begins moving on with Azriel yet Tamlin threatens to envoke a blood duel over her.

Prompt: Masquerade

Warnings: Heavy descriptions of violence, Blood duel, Wing cuting, murder, assassination attempts, depression and self deprecation. Mor x Elain because no one can stop me. Im sorry i hurt Azriel in this (not really). implied smut.

Word Count: 14,265 Yep this is a beast.

Notes: Phantom of the Opera was my inspiration from this prompt so uhhhh I nerded out a bit combining two of my favorite hyperfixations. its about 14,000 words/39 Pages of me being a phantom nerd. Msquerade from royal albert hall and Devil take the Hindmost from Love Never Dies are quoted here highly recommend those songs btw. Not proofread at all, I think i caught most of the plot holes/contradictions though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hybern had finally been defeated and all of Prythian was celebrating, the high lords especially. Even with the tragic losses they were planning a ball or some kind or an event to celebrate what they had overcome. It had only been six months of peace when Rhysand suggested a masquerade ball in the court of nightmares.  Tamlin was less than pleased with the idea but he knew Rhysand’s little sister, his mate would be there so he agreed to attend. As far as anyone knew he had always had a thing for her, no one was quite sure what it was, save for Rhysand; it had started as children when he had taken her under his metaphorical wing. He had taught her everything he had known about music after the female had taken an interest in it. Her presence left a throb in chest and sorrow in his heart.

In truth they had been incredibly close before her family was murdered by his father. He had been bitter at how they had left it, she had been screaming, crying, and punching his chest; he couldn’t blame her it was partially his fault, he misunderstood his father’s intentions. He had asked his father for permission to court the female and his father had requested he speak to the girl's father for permission, he had said that they were staying at an illyrian camp for several weeks.

So he replied to Rhysand that he would attend, his heart yearning for the princess of night; little did he know the princess of night had recently gotten engaged to the spymaster without telling anyone, everyone knew they were flirtatious and close but knew not of the truth behind their relationship, two that as far as anyone knew had never and would never find their mates.

+

The day of the masquerade approached faster than Tamlin thought possible, he had a mask of his beast form crafted and set off for the night court, he decided he would travel with Lucien who was adorned in a new fox mask that showed his mixed court lineage: gold like his own with a crown of sun rays; both males wore regal clothing. Lucien, who had adopted some of the Day Court traditions, was draped in white robes while Tamlin was in a deep emerald green suit adorned with a long one shoulder cape that dragged the ground behind him, a gift for the Night Court tucked under his arm that was tied with a velvet bow and would be reminder of the history the two courts had before the first ultimate betrayal between the two current high lords. 

+

Rhysand and Cassian had spent the entire evening of the party setting up, Rhysand was dressed up as the suriel and Cassian as an attor.

“Rhys this is going to be a fucking splendid party.” Cassian cheered.

“The prologue to a bright new year.” Rhysand agreed.

“It’ll be a night, they’ll be impressed.” Cassian offered.

“Well one does one's best.” Rhysand mused and offered Cassian a drink from his desk. 

“Here's to us and to the Night Court.” They cheered clinking the glasses together.

“A toast to victory, what a pity that Tamlin will be here.” Cassian and Rhys joked between each other.

The boys  set off from the office to gather their dates, Nesta was dressed in a Black Gown, adorned with a silvery shawl and mask while Feyre was in a shimmery sheer black dressed made to look like bat wings with tiny ones on the back of her dress, a silver, crown and mask like Nesta’s.  While the group was still gathering in the living room of the estate house the ballroom in The Court of Nightmares was beginning to flood with partygoers and performers, dressed in an array of costumes and colors, in all sorts of fabrics from scratchy tulles to  shimmering satins and silks. By the time the inner circle, minus Azriel and his date that is, flooded into the ballroom. The party was in full swing with everyone excited that the wars were over for the time being and there was no looming threat in the distance for once, every face within the palace of the Court of Nightmares was a different shade and anywhere one could look another mask answered back. 

Colors painted the normally dark court brilliant whether it be a flash of mauve in its pale purples or a splash of puce that echoed like a blush across its wearer, greens and blacks washed the room with the reminder of life and shadows or like that or precious onyx and emeralds, traces of rouge mixed between painted lips and intricate brilliant silks and satins, beautiful blues like sapphires or the skies offered cool tones to the room offered a refreshing sight, yellow fabrics imported from day court that could only make one beam, reds from autumn that were so rich and vibrant it could make ones head spin. The entirety of Prythian had dressed to the nines with intricate costumes and masks themselves, masks of jesters, comedically painted versions of The King of Hybern, ghouls, geese, dramatic caricatures of the human queens that one could almost find offensive, faces of beats from all across Prythian were a common sight in the ballrooms. The sheer assortment of colors and facades could leave one guessing as to who was who, to some it was a challenge or a race per say to outdo each other with the complexity and grandiose of one's own costume. Everyone seemed to be drinking up the attention and the lights, a mix of champagne glasses and civil chatter or music and a full dance floor; it could only be described as a spectacle but as much as it was a sea of smiles it was a pool for gossip, those lingering in the shadows seething with peering eyes as a male danced with a female someone else favored or those in their circles of chatter breathed lies into existence. 

The inner circle had been spread out across the grand event but had finally pushed their ways through the crowds towards the throne dias, the only place that was really empty in the crowded underground palace. Rhysand who leaned comfortably against the throne in which Feyre sat finally eyed the Shadowsinger, dressed to mimic his own high lord, and his sister ,who he had a gown custom made for to look like the night sky above Velaris even her small tiara mimicked the three stars that sparkled above the city of dreamers, push through the crowd; he offered them a curt nod as the two joined the dancefloor. With the event as grand as it was in attendance it was no surprise that one would feel themselves being watched but even if you would try to run and hide from the lingering stares there was always some other pair of eyes that would find you in the new location. 

Mor had offered Elain her arm as a way to escape the sheer amount of eyes that lingered on them when they stood on top of the dias. Mor had dressed herself in a spectacular red, black, and gold dress that reminded herself of the faire hosts on the continent and she had helped Elain into a more modest pink priestess like costume dress. Elain’s laugh was melodious as Mor spun her around in her arms at the base of the dias. 

“What a night!” Mor had exclaimed as she had pulled Elain into her from a spin.

“What a crowd!” Elain had countered bouncing on the toes of her flats with a happy smile on her face as she looked up to Mor. 

Cassian and Rhys had overheard the two fewmale’s exclamations and retorted back with their own remarks. “Makes you glad we hosted it!” Cassian exclaimed as he took a drink from the champagne flute he held in his hand. 

“Makes you proud,” Rhys offered as he clinked his glass against Cassian’s own flute before taking a sip. “With all this creme de la creme.” 

Nesta had snorted, offering her own two cents “They’re watching us watching them.”  

“All our fears are in the past!” Elain and Mor had cheered and giggled as Mor swept Elain into a dip.

“Six months,” Rhys had started before being interrupted by the rest of the circle. 

“Of relief,” Feyre had offered as a fill in.

“Of delight,” Nesta raised her glass towards Amren in silent cheers.

“Of mother sent peace.” Amren had raised her own glass back towards Nesta proud of how far the female had come.

“And we can breathe at last.” Elain and Mor had sighed happily, as Mor pulled the shorter female in for a chaste kiss. 

“Here's a health” Cassian had announced before downing his glass and motioning one of the staff to bring him another glass.

“Here’s a toast to a prosperous year.” Feyre smiled, content in watching her family’s cheerful demeanor as they celebrated. 

“And may its splendor never fade.” Amren had finally turned to fully engage the conversation.” 

With a final round of cheers the dias emptied as the inner circle all moved to do their own things, Azriel and his darling shooting star moved towards one of the drink tables and away from the center of the dancefloor.

“Think of it!” She mused. “A secret engagement! Look, your future bride! Just think of it!”  She giddily offered a champagne flute to Azriel who offered a small smile back to her.

“But why is it secret? What do we have to hide?” Azriel had countered taking a sip from his glass, pulling her close to him with a flirty smile.

“You promised me,” She whined.

“You promised me.” Azriel pouted as he leaned in to kiss her. 

“No, Az, please don’t they’ll see!”  She squirmed trying to pull from his grasp.

“Then let them see,” he groaned. “It’s an engagement not a crime. Starlight, what are you afraid of?” 

“Let’s not argue,” She countered, trying to dismiss his questions.

“Let’s not argue.” Azriel agreed, taking a sip from his glass and releasing her waist. 

“Please pretend.” She begged.

“I can only hope I’ll understand in time.” Azriel sighed.

“You will understand, in time that is.” She held one of his hands in hers with a thankful smile.

Rhysand had found the two by the table, Feyre having moved to dance with her sister, Rhysand interrupted the two with a small nod towards Azriel and pulled his sister onto the dancefloor. The pacing of the dance had changed and both Rhys and Az were separated from their starlight as she was surrounded by a gaggle of females. Azriel had begun moving through the crowd till she could see him, he offered her his hands but just as their hands touched she was spun into the arms of another dancer; Azriel groaned, pushing himself through the crowds till he reached the beverage table where Rhysand now stood pouting and began to antagonize the high lord to go fetch his own sister as everytime he attempted to they were split up again. 

The music swelled and swirled as she was forced towards the front of the room, closer and closer to the dias, the music began to quicken and darken its pace, Azriel had noticed where she was heading and pushed through the crowds to catch her again after Rhys had shrugged him off.  He managed to just catch her and she pulled him into the final few spins of the number, the two smiling happily between each other as Azriel lifted her by the hips into a spin as the number began to swell for a final time, the rest of the inner circle somehow having found their way to the front beside them, as the music spun into its ending and the next song was beginning no one seemed to mind or recognize the music as a darker intro played.

She had froze in place, the familiar tune echoing in her ears as the rest of the inner circle turned to chatter amongst themselves.  Clicking of heeled boots made her heart race and fear began to slowly fill her chest; she was sure she was the only one who could hear the male’s gait and have it memorized so thoroughly, Rhys was the one to notice the change in his sister’s behavior and moved to question her. Though as he followed her gaze up to the dias he no longer needed an answer as to what was wrong. 

Tamlin had decided to make a dramatic entrance, as he was known for now, and while it was admittedly hard for him and Luicen to set up, it was worth it now to see the faces on the Inner circle and the rest of the Prythian’s high lords. He had handed Lucien a stack of music sheets and a heavy pouch of gold to bribe the musicians into playing for his introduction, a song he knew that would only matter to her: the song they had been writing together when the mating bond had snapped in place between them, their song. It admittedly was a bold move on his part, but he was planning on sweeping her back into his arms and declaring his intentions to her in front of the entirety of Prythian. Or at least that's how he had imagined it while talking to Lucien, he planned to beg for her forgiveness for everything that had happened to her family when she was younger, make a grand reveal begging for the girl to come back to him and pleading with her to accept their bond.  He had not expected for her to be on Azriel’s arm but then after all he wasn’t quite sure what he expected after all this time had passed, it was go big or go home with the gestures he figured.

Everyone had frozen as he leaned on the black stone and metal throne, a snarky smile on his face as he saw Azriel pale, saw his star’s eyes widen, saw Rhys move towards him before stalling just a few steps in front of the rest of the inner circle. They had been expecting him, just not like this, this was borderline disrespectful towards Rhysand and Feyre but he wasn’t here for them he was here for his darling mate. Feeling the tension of  their high lord and his inner circle  the entire gala ran quiet.

“Why so silent good messieurs?” he took a step away from the throne, straightening his stance and watched as Rhys ushered the entire room back a step.

‘Ahhh that explained it’, Tamlin considered their reactions before deciding on one reason as to why they would be reacting the way they were. ‘They don’t trust the reason I’m  here, they are so used to there always being a threat around the corner that they must think I'm here to ruin their celebration of peace.’

“Did you think I wouldn’t show up Rhys? You act like I’m not one of the Lords that helped usher in this peace.” Tamlin joked, though his tone suggested otherwise.

He took a single step down the dias and while addressing the entirety of the room he opened his arms with a smile. “Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have brought you an announcement.” 

It was true, he was so busy trying to figure out Hybern’s plans he had turned down countless invites to balls and galas and then after it was found out he was playing host to Hybern the invitations had stopped coming in completely. After he had helped Feyre and everyone escape Hybern’s war camp and it was made common knowledge he was playing double agent people were still hesitant to trust him and while invitations did start coming back in he often put them off to work on restoring his court instead. 

“I figured it would be best to announce myself here, at such a grand celebration, where everyone could see what it means to me.” He smiled brightly, his emerald eyes glinting in the faelight gleaming from the grand chandelier.

“I advise you to hear me out, my meaning should be clear. I intend no malice here.” Tamlin raised his hands as if to calm the crowds.

Rhys seemed to relax as Tamlin made his intentions aware, Tamlin gestured for his darling star to step forward Azriel’s brows furrowed and he tried to pull her behind him but all he could do was reach out for her as she shook his hands off and stepped past Rhys to lock eyes with Tamlin. Tamlin took another step down the dias and extended one hand out for his star to take, when she complied he pulled her tight against him. 

He dropped his forehead to touch hers, and he sighed as if it was the first breath of fresh air he had taken in in a very long time. “Our souls still sing as one, you never rejected me?” 

She took a sharp breath in. “How could I? I only ever heard bad or negative things about you but through it all you never once closed off the bond, but you never reached out for me either.”

Tamlin tensed as he smelt the underlying cool musk scent that he was familiar with as the Shadowsinger, mix with her own soft night wind scent. “You smell like the Shadowsinger…”

Azriel reading the situation with a negative connotation rushed forward to pull her away from the High Lord of Spring. Rhysand’s eyes widened as he processed the news of his little sister and old best friend having a mating bond the two had never consummated or had never been closed off or rejected like he had assumed it had been after everything that had happened; his attention had flitted from the sweet and sincere scene on the dias to Azriel ,who’s movement was rage filled and volatile in stark contrast to his normal behavior, before the male could pass Rhys took hold of his arm. The shadowsinger turned to look back at Rhys with a pained snarl on his face that softened when he saw the look in Rhys’s eyes, a plea to not make this any worse as they both knew Tamlin was not an honorable male and she was in so much danger being that close alone that if he were to walk up there Tamlin might very well sweep her away and start the next war to keep her as his. Or that was how Azriel perceived it, Rhys however wasn’t sure the exact clarification for how he meant it but he knew it was probably a good thing he didn’t let Azriel march up there; Rhys knew Azriel fancied his little sister and just wasn’t good at proclaiming it, he knew that the chance of Az saying ‘Fuck it’ and  storming up there with his rage scrambling any clear thinking would end up in one of them declaring a blood duel.

Azriel had been asking Rhys for weeks now for permission and advice on properly courting her, it was a ploy Azriel had ran by her as a way to keep the rest of the circle out of the details of their relationship, instead hiding the true nature within bedroom walls. It had been sudden for Azriel, his Starlight had been down in the dungeons on order of Rhys while he was out; he had just been coming back in from a mission and was about to start writing a report for Rhys when she was on her way out. She had stopped at the basins to wash some blood off her hands and Azriel didn’t know what quite compelled him to stop but he was glad he did so now, she had looked up at him with eyes sparkling like the stars and a happy smile on her face as she welcomed him back; his eyes widened as he took her in and his heart ached, he wasn’t sure what had changed between now and the last time he had seen her weeks ago, maybe it was the fact she was one of the only ones who genuinely responded to his letters more than the basic check ins he did with his brothers. Whatever it was though, Azriel knew he needed her close to him then and there, he had thanked her for keeping the dungeons in check for him and offered to take her out for dinner on the Sidra. That was how it had started over a year ago now, after the war with Hybern Azriel had proposed to her but confided in Rhys that he wished to simply court his sister, other than that to the inner circle they were simply flirting but did not necessarily belong to one another.

When Azriel had stormed into his office the first time begging Rhys for permission to court his younger sister and if he was allowed how should he go about doing so Azriel hadn't let Rhys get a word in before he had worked himself up and left the room apologizing profusely, it was probably for the best in the worst possible way because if Azriel had let him speak Rhys would have quizzed him on where this sudden romantic interest in his sister was coming from and probably denied the male outright. Rhys was over protective of his little sister, more so than he probably needed to be but no one was complaining so who was he to judge, Rhys had assumed Azriel was too worried and anxious to actually act on asking her out.  He knew Azriel cared about her more so than was probably good for the spy master and he had every intention of telling the spymaster it wasn’t a good idea if Az ever made his way back into his office, which just hadn’t happened yet so Rhy bid his time separating them if Az ever got too close to her for his liking.

It wasn’t that Rhys had anything against Az and her being together and honestly they would have made a cute couple but Rhys knew more than he probably should have, she was his sister after all and he was the one who had carried her half alive body from the cabin where she had been left on death’s doorstep ripped apart and bloody; it was one of the only things he could never forgive Tamlin for in all honesty, she had trusted him, he had trusted him. He hadn’t thought much of it about a week before the attack on her, his mom, and their other sister, when the she had winnowed in from the spring court drunk on Spring wine way after their father had already turned in to bed for the night; she had been rambling, hardly able to fly in a straight line when she had landed on the balcony and Rhys inwardly groaned as he pulled her up the stairs towards her room.

It was only after the door had clicked shut and he had sat her on the neat padded couch and asked the house for water did he think to ask her what had led to the late night drinking spree.

“Alright fess up, what got you in the drinking spirit?” He had asked placing the glass of water in her hand before standing up and moving towards the girls dresser and sifting through it looking for a pair of the girls silk pajamas.

“Tam-” She had started but was interrupted by a hiccup as tears started bubbling in her eyes.

Pulling out the pair of black silk pjs Rhys’s brows furrowed, a growl threatening to spill from his throat. “What the fuck did he do to you?”

“No, no, no Rhys… its not like that!” she pulled her knees into the couch and turned herself around to look over the back of the couch at Rhys as he walked back over pajamas in hand.

“Then how is it?” Rhys’s voice softened. “I thought you had music lessons with him today?”

“I did,” She confirmed. “We were working on this piece together, he was teaching me how to write music and well, we just kept moving closer and closer as we worked on the song.”

“And?” Rhys prodded sitting the pajamas on the coffee table.

She shifted back to face forwards with a pout. “It was going really well, he was super proud of the progress we had made on it. Like I said we kept getting closer, well when we wrapped the song up he just. Well he just leaned forward and kissed me!” Her voice was raised in a ‘can you believe the audacity of that man’ tone.

Rhys laughed. “You decided to drink because you were upset he kissed you?” 

She shot him a look that read ‘Why the fuck would I do that dumbass’ “Mother no! Let me finish Rhys!”

He had to refrain from laughing again at her attitude. “Go right ahead.”

“Thank you!” she huffed. “Well, when he kissed me I felt this like spark in my chest and I knew what it meant, he felt it too I think ‘cause his eyes widened and then he deepened the kiss and mumbled something about thanking the mother it was me as his mate. He was so excited he offered to take me out drinking as a celebration. We ended up calling it a night so I just winnowed back, took me a couple times believe me but when I finally made it back into the court I flew the rest of the way back up here. Cold Night air is not as sobering as you would think.”

Rhys smiled and patted her shoulder. “Well then congrats on finding your mate dear sister, with Tamlin of all males as well  there couldn’t be a better match. Get some rest, don't forget we have to fly out to Windhaven tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Yeah, yeah get out so I can go to bed.” she waved him off, grabbing the folded silk pajamas from the coffee table and making her way into the attached bathing room.

Rhys left to his own room and found himself at a writing desk he had tucked into the corner, writing to Tamlin his own form of congratulations; after all he had already considered the male a brother and now even more so if he was actually to be mated to his sister.

When the morning came she barely remembered the interaction with him, and had practically begged him to keep it a secret until her and Tam had a chance to talk. He had agreed as they flew out then winnowed into the camp grounds, Rhys wished he could have frozen those moments in time; when everything was happy and alright, when he didn’t get hung up on what could have been like those powdered icing sugar cookies he got from the bakery a block over from the river estate that had opened recently: his youngest sister would have loved those, she had one of the biggest sweet tooths around.

Five days had passed and he was needed back in Velaris, leaving the rest of his family in Windhaven but something just didn’t sit right with him like an anxious pit in his stomach. He should have told Azriel and Cassian to be on guard or something to have patrols out in the area around the cabin but for some reason he didn’t and now he blamed himself for so much. 

Rhys had woken up that night as his father stormed in the air buzzing and electrified with palpable energy. “Up boy, hurry get dressed. Something’s happened. I have already sent word to Windhaven to check we will meet them there.”

Rhys paled and his stomach dropped as he threw his leathers on half haphazardly. In all honesty he had barely slept maybe ten minutes here or there, he had just drifted off for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes finally when that door had swung open; in all honesty Rhy should have been exhausted but the adrenaline pumping through his system was convincing him otherwise. 

The night was a blur painted in red for him, when he had gotten there Cassian amd Az were sitting on a rock with their hands in their hands, they had been sleeping in the barracks recently in some way to show the others they belonged here just as much as they did, both males perked up when they heard the sound of Rhys winnowing back into camp.  They offered him a pitiful look that worried Rhys, his eyes darted between them and the door and just as they were beginning to stand Rhys took off in a full sprint towards the slightly ajar splintered door; he heard his father’s voice call out for him but he was through the door and standing in a pool of blood before any words processed in his head.

It was a mess, the table had been flipped and chipped on the counter the chairs were thrown across the room and had splinters or pieces missing, broken ceramics and wood chunks from dining sets were scattered across the floor; the living room was a mess in its own the couch had been flipped, wood pokers strewn across the floor in front of the fireplace with one tipped in blood and tossed to the other side of the room. By the cauldron Rhys was going to be sick if it wasn’t for the adrenaline pulsing through his body right now, blood was absolutely everywhere: splatters pools, streaks, handprints, you name it; What Rhys found the worst was the two bodies slumped over in the kitchen, absolutely brutalized in gouged scratches and gaping wounds. Rhys stilled, two there was only two in here his mom and the youngest sister both of whom where half dressed and had bones sticking out and gaping gashes in their back where their wings had been, he realized how bad the attack and assault had been due to the tear tracks and the disorder in their undressed states. 

An alarm was going off in his head. Where was his other sister? His eyes scanned the room as a sob bobbed in the back of his throat, they were born only a year apart and had grown up incredibly close together they acted as if they were twins despite the fact they weren’t. She had been here when the attack had been sprung he deduced, there were three plates made at the table and two others off to the side just in case Cas and Az decided to show up to eat with them instead of in the main house. She had been the person in the living room he reasoned based on the fact the bodies were in the kitchen, she would have been relaxing on the couch when they barged in and put the couch between her and the attacker she had taken the fire poker as a weapon, she wouldn’t have been able to get up to her room where her actual weapons were.   Yet her body wasn’t down here and there wasn’t a significant amount of blood in the snow, only the pool right outside the doorway, then his eyes landed on the footprints leading up the stairs and the small drops of blood trailing up the stairs.

He had never booked it up a staircase faster, his eyes following the trail on the floor; had the attackers still been there he would have been a goner, he stopped as he came face to face with the slightly ajar door to his sisters room. The boys bunked together which left her to bunk with their youngest sister and their mother had her own room; A small bathing room was at the opposite end of the hallway, he had to swallow an anxious breath as he pushed the door open slowly.

He had wanted to sob, the room was barely touched except for her, laying on her stomach on her bed, like care had been taken with her; the same scene as her mother and sister in the severity of the wounds on her back, Rhys would thank the mother everyday that while he was observing her she wasn’t in the same state of undress and that he was able to catch her weak breath. Her face was looking at him and yet her eyes were weak and open a small weak smile graced her face as she let out a small bloody cough, she had tried to call his name but all that had come out was a wheeze and more coughing that swept her into unconsciousness. Rhys’s brain went from being on a stall to being in overdrive as a sob wracked his body, he hauled her up into his arms as gently as he could and took off back through the halls of the cabin and down the stairs out into that frigid cold air.

When his feet sank into the snow outside  everything happened so quickly he could barely remember screaming that she was still alive, that they could still save her if they got her to Madja in time.  He knew their father had taken her from his arms and was gone within the minute, his knees had given out and it had been Cassian and Azriel that had caught him.   When he had finally made it back into Velaris the next night he refused to leave her bedside even when Madja advised that he should just let the girl rest, it took his father waltzing in with that dark look in his eyes that made Rhys finally step away.

The firm hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts, his fathers hardened steel eyes met with his own. “I found out who it was.”

“Who was it?” Rhys’s voice was hoarse; he had barely said a word in the last 24 hours and any use of his voice was from screaming or crying.

“Spring court.” His father had told him and he had to take a moment to make sure he had heard his father correctly.

“Spring court?” Rhys had double checked.

“Yes, you seem surprised, has something happened?” His father had asked quizzically.

“I just don’t understand why Tamlin would have helped do something like that.” Rhys looked down with his brows furrowed.

“Look son, I understand you both have been friends for an incredibly long time but-” His father had started before Rhys had interrupted him.

“No, it's not for that reason!” Rhys had barked out with more venom than he had intended.

“Then for what reason do you mean boy?” His fathers gaze hardened.

“Just,” He sighed. “I don’t see why Tamlin would attack his own mate at all, especially when they both came across as happy about it.” 

“She's his mate?” His fathers eyes drifted to her sleeping body.

“She had just found out before we left, Tamlin was planning to ask his father for permission to court her properly.” Rhys mumbled.

“You know this how?” His father had asked.

“She was drunk the night before we left, spilled her guts about it to me. Her and Tamlin had gone out for celebratory drinks, after I had put her to bed I wrote a congratulatory letter to Tam and he had wrote back thanking me and asked me to keep it quiet, he said he was going to ask his father to properly court her and if he got permission there he was going to come to you to ask. I told him we would be up in Windhaven if he needed to find us to get your permission or if he needed to run away.” His voice was shaky as he stumbled to recall what the letter he had received from Tamlin had said.”He said he loved her and he was bound and determined to court her either way, even if he had to run away. Something had to have happened.”

“Possibly, I’m sure something happened or there was a lie somewhere along the way.” His father offered him a sympathetic nod in comfort. “Either way we head out tonight, you can deal with Tamlin and I’ll deal with his father and brothers.”

“Okay.” Rhys nodded.

“Be on the balcony just past midnight.” His father had turned to step back out of the room, his hand falling from his shoulder. 

The air hung heavy as he returned to his seat beside her bed, if he stayed standing he would begin to pace while thinking about what he would say to Tamlin tonight although he knew no matter what it would end in blood and violence.

+

When night finally fell, Rhys was leaning in the archway of the balcony before even his father had made it downstairs; he had spent too much time being able to brood on the situation and now his entire being was pure rage, he fully believed Tamlin had been lying to him about the entire situation now, that was why he had decided to go out to drink and that he just had to pull her along with him to not arouse suspicion. 

His eyes almost seemed darker than his father’s did when the older male finally had joined him down stairs, one set of darkened steeled violet eyes met another in an unspoken vow on how the rest of the night would go.  His father, the only one able to winnow in and out of the mountain palace’s wards, took the male by the shoulder and winnowed them as close to Rosehall as they could without setting off the wards and silent alarms, due to the estate having frequent visitors you could walk through the wards but not winnow and it was considered a ‘safe guard’ though it was one of the weakest safe guards Rhys had seen.

Getting into the estate was rather simple, it was late enough even the servants would be asleep and they had a tendency to not lock the door, Tamlin had told Rhys that once and in turn he had made a note of that to his father; as they snuck around the side of the estate ducking under window sills in case any late night wanderers or the heir and his father decided to get up for a late night wander, with a silent nod they tested the handle on the servants quarters door and stepped inside to a silent house. The servants quarters were easy to sneak through without a care for exactly how silent they were, it wasn’t until they reached the main hall that they tested every step with a soft foot before putting any pressure on a floor board, any noise could give their position away. He felt the familiar knock of his father’s clawed hands on his mental shields and accepted him in with a questioning look.

‘You take care of Tamlin and I will deal with Verdanon and the others. We split up at the top of the stairs.’ His father’s voice was stern in his head.

Rhys simply nodded following the older male’s steps, turning down the left hall as his father went down the right hall; Rhys looked over his shoulder watching as his father passed the empty room’s of Tamlin’s long dead brothers without a second thought, he turned back towards Tamlin’s door at the end of the hallway. His steps weighed heavier and heavier as he approached the familiar oak carved door, his thoughts drifted as his hand fell to the iron door handle a scratching sound on the other side of the doors followed by a frustrated growl and the soft sound of something with scarce weight hitting the floor caused the hair on Rhys’s neck to stand on end. 

He straightened his stance, he could hear the creak of his father opening the door at the other end of the hall ever so softly, turning the iron handle and inching the door open till he could see Tamlin stationed at his writing desk with his back to him and his head in his hands. 

Before Rhys could take another step into the room he was startled by Tamlin calling out to him. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up here.”

Rhys stepped into the room, forgoing any thought of being quiet as he heard the beginning of a struggle down his father’s way. “And here I am.”

His voice was venomous towards Tamlin and in all honesty he hadn’t meant it to be so dark, he couldn’t claim to know the whole story; it hurt him more when he saw Tam flinch in his seat.The flinch had his gaze sharpening on the blonde male and he strode forward quickly, unsheathing his dagger with full intent of sinking it into the blonde. 

Hearing the familiar sound of metal being wielded against himself Tamlin rose quickly from his chair, the light wooden thing clattering against the glossy hardwood floors as he turned to block Rhys’s attack with only a letter opener. It bought him just enough time to try and grab ahold of Rhys’s wrist with his free hand, even though the attempt failed miserably and the dagger had sunk against the bones in his arm. His eyes widened, and breath trembled as he took in the emotions etched into Rhys’ very being. 

“Rhys!” He called out with his voice wavering. “Please talk to me about this, I swear to you I had no idea what my father was planning to do!” 

“Don’t lie to me Tam.” Rhys had growled, pressing the blade hader against the bone of the blonde’s arm. 

“I’m not Rhys,” Tamlin swallowed a shallow breath, the edges of his vision beginning to turn white with pain. “I promise if you ask me for all the details of what happened I won't lie to you.”

The weight of the words hung in the air as Rhys’s gaze narrowed, without removing the blade from the male under him he extended his non dominant hand in an offering. “If you do lie I won’t hesitate to kill you I can promise that.” 

Tamlin nodded, dropping the letter opener and shaking the ravenette’s hand as magic sizzled in the air around them  settling into a small shooting star pattern; instead of the regular black ink bargains and promises normally settled into the one that seared itself into their skin was nearly white in color looking instead like a scar on their arms, a metaphor maybe Rhys thought now for the scar the damage of that night had done on their families. Rhys ground his jaw as he pulled the sword from its spot embedded in Tamlin’s arm, the latter flinching at the grinding noise as it was pulled from the bone.

Tamlin moved to pick up the chair as Rhys sheathed his dagger and noted the fact his arm was taking a moment to seal up, probably due to the damage to the bone, as his blood dripped against the floor he offered the chair to Rhysand. Tamlin sighed and leaned against the ornately carved wooden poster of his bed letting the raven haired male adjust and fixate his violet gaze onto his own green ones.

“You know the details of how we found out so I will spare you the details of that for times sake and instead will start us with dinner the next day if that is alright with you.” Tamlin had offered Rhys a chance to rebuttal even though it was more of a statement.

“That's fine with me, get on with it.” Was the responding growl.

“Like I told you I was ready to completely flee this court if it was necessary, Rhys, please don’t give me that look.” Tamlin had looked up at the other male with a miserable pleading look in his eyes. “I love her mind you, I’d still walk out of here if I didn’t have a clue how tonight is going to end.”

“If you love her, why would you hurt her like that Tam? Can you answer that question? She still hasn’t woken up, I hope you know that.” Rhys’s gaze was hardened into a glare that had the blonde sinking against the post to drop his head defeatedly into his knees.

“I tried to protect her the best I could at that moment in time, I wish I could have done more but all I could do was carry her upstairs so she couldn't see the carnage or her mother and sister.” Tamlin had sighed, the disappointment in himself obvious as he sank to the floor.

“You were the reason she made it upstairs?” Rhys questioned and Tamlin nodded.

“Yeah, but I should start at that dinner, not in the middle of it all. Please give me this one thing, Rhys.” Tamlin asked and Rhys could see the swirl of sorrow deep in those emerald orbs.

“Get to it then.” Rhys barked and Tamlin nodded.

“I was nervous, I stayed in my room the entire day trying to think of how to ask for her to my father whilst being surrounded by my brothers.” Tamlin had rested his arms over his knees fiddling with one of the several rings on his fingers with a sad smile on his face. “When I was called down for dinner I was so nervous I could hardly sit still, we always go by birth order for events of the day or subjects we wished to discuss so I of course was the last one to get asked. Normally I turn down the invitation to scramble back to my poetry books but they all turned to look at me when I had said actually I did have something I wanted to ask about.”

Tamlin let his head fall back against the wooden post. “They were surprised but were more than happy to let me have my piece, I started it with an upfront statement,  That I had settled on a female I wished to court, my father asked me who of course and I said her name that she was actually my mate and we both were aware of it but I wanted the chance to properly court her.” He broke up his sentences with a scoff. “I should have known better than to believe he would have been okay with it from the get go, should have figured there was something off when he said he'd ask your father and that should have been the end of the conversation but no I had to push it because I knew you all were not available in Night Court. I told him you all were going to be in the Illyrian mountains at the camp instead that your mother had a cabin on the far outskirts of the camp and that you all would be staying there and we needed to send the letter there instead. A couple days later he told me he had gotten a letter inviting us out there to meet with you all and that afternoon we set out to head towards your court.”

“You didn’t think anything of simply being informed of the letter and not seeing it with your own eyes?” Rhys had frowned at the blonde’s lack of consideration.

“I was too excited with the prospect of being able to properly court her and wedding bells on the horizon at the time to see the cloud of deception hanging above me.” Tamlin bit his tongue to prevent himself from getting snappy.

“Figured you smarter than that Tam.” Rhys taunted.

“We will see about that on the day you find your mate Rhys.” Tamlin countered with an eye roll, continuing with his story before Rhys could interject with another comment on his actions. “We made it out to the camp, I figured you were going to be there. Honestly I didn’t know you and your father had headed back to your estate yet so I thought nothing of it when my father simply knocked on the door. Your mother was the one to answer and my father was pushing inside with a blade drawn quicker than I realized, I stood in the doorway frozen as I realized he had lied to me. He attacked your mother and youngest sister first took their wings, and then he attacked her she had put up the most fight, had been yelling at me the entire time to step in but I could feel her fear and it doubled my own I couldn't move until my father dragged her over to me and dropped her at my feet saying I needed to finish her. He moved into the kitchen where you mother and baby sister were, when I realize what he was doing I pulled her into my arms and under the disguise I wanted her privately to myself so I could really cherish her I carried her up to her bed and sat with her, I cried and begged for her apologies told her I didn't know he was going to do what he did and that it was all my fault for not seeing through his lie. She reached out to touch my cheek, told me it was okay she wasn’t mad at me, and in turn I told her I would spend my whole life trying to find a way to make it up to her.” Tamlin’s voice quivered as he hurried to sum up the story, wiping a tear from his cheek that he hadn’t even realized he had shed. 

“I mean that Rhys, even if making it up to her is staying as far away as possible.” Tamlin mumbled looking up to Rhys who actually had pity in his eyes for the male.

“You truly didn’t mean for what happened to happen?” Rhys scowled. 

“It truly was not my intention, I figured by bringing her upstairs she would have the best chance to make it through, that by doing so she would have some chance to survive so that at least that way she didn’t have to watch her mother and sister be slaughtered; I knew if she stayed downstairs he would make sure her life was ripped from her, he had already taken her wings and there was enough blood on me for him to believe she was dead.” Tamlin sighed.

When no stinging came from the tattoo Rhys decided he was satisfied with the answer. “My father has slaughtered your brothers and no doubt is working on your father now. If my father survives the fight you will have to make yourself nonexistent and flee into hiding, you will never be able to see her again as long as he lives and I swear to you I will do my best to keep her from you even if the opposite is true. You have hurt her in a way I as her brother can not forgive, even if she does the second she wakes up I still will not; You will have to earn her trust all over again and until I am convinced you have redeemed yourself I won't allow you near her.”

“Those are terms I can agree to.” Tamlin looked up at Rhys hopeful.

“I will not make it into a bargain for your sake, it will simply be of my own determination if you have redeemed yourself in my eyes and I will not lay out the terms for what that entails.” Rhys stood from his chair and extended a hand to Tamlin who took it in kind to stand from his position on the floor.

Rhys pulled Tamlin into a half hearted hug, catching the blonde off guard. “For everyone's sake in this, I hope you do manage to redeem yourself. For what it’s worth Tamlin, you had always made her happy.”

Tamlin felt his heart shatter as Rhys’s words sank into his chest, that one word destroyed his world: had. Tamlin decided that one word would haunt him until he felt himself a good enough male to finally attempt to redeem himself for her. Though no words were spoken further as screaming and clattering spilled into the room from the hallway on the other side of the door, there was an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of what was to come. 

It was the last time Tamlin and Rhys had really seen eye to eye on anything, Tamlin never felt like he was worthy of trying to redeem himself and then everything with Amarantha had Tamlin feeling disgusted in himself, he let his self hatred for what he had allowed of his court, of his people, of his friends, and of himself outweigh the thoughts of redemption for all of the above. He drowned himself in paperwork, in Lucien’s understanding on nights they would get drunk and miserable about loves lost to them, in Feyre so he could forget what he should have had. His distaste in himself turned him uncaring and cold, he found himself unable to care for the once human girl because she would never really have his heart. He threw himself into trying to be enthusiastic with court relations and wedding planning where he had almost snapped Ianthes head off for how pushy and annoying she got to him, he didn't honestly care about the wedding it wasn’t her, the one he really wanted to be going through this with. 

When Rhys came to collect Feyre from the wedding Tamlin hated how thankful he was to the ravenette and wanted to turn in on himself for how hopeful he had gotten that Rhys might have dragged his sister along for show. When Feyre ran off to join Rhys’s side after nights of Tamlin being haunted with memories of his inability to protect dear little starlight caused him to lash out at her and seal her in the estate, Tamlin hated that he had taken his inner grievances out on her. He hated that when she had finally returned but fled with Lucien that he understood why both left him, even after everything he had been through with the day court's heir. It wasn’t until he had caught a glimpse of her after the high lord’s meeting where he had been so cruel did he remember why all of this was happening in the first place, all he had seen was a passing glimpse of her and those terrible scars on her back that his cold, calculated, purposefully arrogant, and admittedly self detrimental walls shattered again yet even more painfully this time; he wanted to call out to her to drop to his knees and beg for her to forgive him for every callous action he had taken but he couldn’t, no, he wasn’t worthy in his own eyes to have her own eyes land on him, it was the one sided interaction that had catapulted him into trying to claw his way back out of the pit he had dug for himself. It wasn’t until rhys walked through the archway she had just disappeared across that Tamlin realized he had been staring at the spot she once stood, all Rhys had offered him was a raised brow as he approached and a touch to the shoulder; Rhys knew he had seen her that her very presence had been enough to shake him at his core.

“I think I’m ready to start to redeem myself for her.” Tamlin’s voice was hoarse and it even shocked himself to feel how close to tears he was.

“Then do your best to earn it, for her at least.” Rhys nodded and patted the spot his hand rested at tamlin’s shoulder.

Tamlin moved to turn to walk back down the steps and back towards the other camp he hated so violently but could not do a thing about it, not yet, at least he had offered the plans to the other lords.

“Oh, and Tamlin,” Tamlin was caught by surprise when Rhys called out to him and he looked over his shoulder turning slightly to look back at the male who had a small smile on his face, his arms crossed, and the slightest teasing head tilt as he watched the blonde male walk away. “You were right.”

Tamlin’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“What you said all those years ago, about the idea of marrying your mate clouding your brain. I get it.” Rhys offered the oher a nod as Tamlin let out one sad, dry, laugh to himself.

“I told you so.” Tamlin had muttered as he turned away from the other male and slipped out the castle’s walls. 

The two had been against each other for so long that they both had forgotten what it had been like to banter with the other. Rhys’s soft smile turned into one of sadness as the doors closed behind his old friend, he looked down at the floor before turning to join his family in the courtyard that conjoined their rooms all together. He watched his sister play Azriel in chess from a spot leaning against a column, Tamlin realizing he had to change for her was the first positive mark in his book and he knew more were to come if such a fleeting glimpse was enough to move the male the way it did. 

Rhys knew she still cared about the blonde it was evident in the way she wore the emerald Tamlin had sent Rhys him home with the night they both became highlords to give to her, around her neck; Rhys didn’t think she had taken the thing off except for the one or two times the clasp had broken in the hundreds of years since. 

His belief of where her affections still truly lie was only solidified the night Elain had been kidnapped and Feyre had gone undercover to return her with the aid of Tamlin. When they jumped the cliff one of Hybern’s archers had shot an ashwood arrow right into his ribcage while he was still in beast form; it had rendered him unconscious and trapped in his form. She had rushed out of her tent at the commotion and her face had paled when she had seen the great beast with laboring breaths, Rhys had frozen on his spot as she pushed through the crowds to drop to her knees and began immediately assessing his wounds; processing there was no bane in his blood she had screamed at Rhys to give her his dagger and when Rhys didn’t move she was rushing over to take it from off his waist. When medics finally caught up to the scene she was ordering them around as she rolled up her sleeves and muttering apologies to the male as he was slipping the dagger into the skin either side of the arrow to cleanly remove the barbed edges without the ash wood splintering inside of him. When she had tossed the arrow off to the side and his body finally caught up with the removal of the arrow the medics were hauling him off to the tents and she rushed off to her tent to clean the blood from her shaky hands. He had gone to check on her that night, finding her absent from her tents and instead in the private medical tents crying over the blonde male; Rhys simply sighed before turning to leave without saying a word or even alerting her to his presence.

Everything since then had been leading up to now and somewhere deep in his chest he knew it was coming and expected it but could see how violent the situation could turn at any second with two males vying for the same female's attention. Rhys would never admit outloud if he had to choose between the two males on who he would have her married off to that it would be Tamlin, Azriel was a good male and less temperamental but he had females throwing themselves at him and he liked to toy with that fact and he had no doubt that she would get hurt if he decided to take that toying a bit too far; Tamlin though had only ever held any interest in two females, her and Feyre, but Rhys, Tamlin, and Feyre all knew it was simply forced and situational with her after the truth was revealed and while he was temperamental Rhys had seen her calm him plenty of times when they were younger. Plus Rhys had seen how Tamlin had worked his ass off after that night even restoring the entire Spring Court and Rosehall by himself, he had worked for this, he had worked to keep the unspoken promise between the two.

So as the reality of the situation currently on display for anyone in Prythian to see Rhys’s mind was going a thousand miles a minute as Azriel struggled against his hand and Tamlin’s eyes sparkled sadly as his green orbs took her in that close to him yet she smelled like another male.

Rhys’s nostrils flared and his head snapped towards him as he had to bite his tongue and grind his teeth when Azriel’s voice rang out against the murmur of the crowd. “She is to be my bride, take your filthy hands off her.”

The entirety of the inner circle’s attention stilled on the aggravated male whose wings were flared in a posturing behavior to make himself seem larger than the blonde male. Rhys’s eyes flicked over to the blonde male and his sister whose eyes had dropped to the floor and carried a self disappointed sadness in them from where he stood. 

Tamlin’s eyes steeled on the angry illyrian and turned to the female in his grasp, his thumb and forefinger coming to rest under her chin as his voice was soft and sympathetic. “Look at me.” When her eyes rose only to his lips he sighed. “In the eyes, darling.” 

Rhys watched as her entire posture changed, Tamlin offering her a small smile as he mumbled a small bit of praise her way, “There she is.” 

Azriel fought and yelled against him, even turning threats towards Rhys himself when he refused to let him pass, the two on the dias having an unspoken conversation; their eyes weren’t glazed over so Rhys knew the conversation wasn’t in their heads simply reading the others emotions in each other's eyes and over the bond, the two seeming to come to some understanding as she was the first to move.

Cupping one of Tamlin’s cheeks, the blonde nuzzling against her soft touch her voice was weak and she was clearly on the verge of crying from whatever Tamlin had shown her. “Oh, Tam…”

Tamlin simply pressed a kiss to the palm of the hand she held his face with but the action had Azriel pushing through Rhys’s hold, Cassian realizing at exactly the same time as Rhys both males struggling to get any kind of grasp on him as he surged forward. The sudden violent movements had her startling and her eyes glazed over for a split second as her pupils shrunk, Tamlin felt whatever emotion she had sent down the bond as he growled and pushed her behind him getting between her and Azriel. The Illyrian had no intention of hurting her but she was always one to easily panic at sudden violence that was directed in her general vicinity, well at least after a similar sudden wave of violence had cost her her mate and nearly killed her. The growl was a warning for the spymaster, as Rhys and Cassian managed to barely keep a hold of him, indiscernible threats and promises of violent actions fell from the winged males tongue.

Tamlin simply tucked the small female closer into his side and raised a brow above those hardened emerald orbs. “Is it to be a blood duel then spymaster?”

The hair on the back of Rhys’s neck stood up at the sincere threat that hung in the air, knowing as much as he loved Azriel Tamlin was a high lord, who was fighting for his mate and that was a monster one would not truly wish to push into a blood duel. “Azriel.” His voice was a sharp chastising warning to the struggling shadowsinger.

Something in the way Rhys had hissed his name had Azriel coming back to his senses, watching the way she desperately clung to the blondes emerald vest with shaky fingers.

He looked to the ground for a second before meeting the green eyes of the High Lord, his wings tensing closed behind him. “She looks for sympathy, I give her sorrow. She asks for honesty, I’ve none to borrow. She needs a tender kiss, begs it of me, in turn I give her ugliness so why does she love me? She yearns for higher things, things I can’t give her. The rush her song brings, the one you wrote with her, I can’t deliver that. Even when she plays and soars above me, I try to clip her wings and shut down whatever it is she's playing; can you answer me then why does she love me? I've tried to get her to leave the hurt behind even when I knew not the reason behind it.” 

Tamlin sized him up with a simple rake of the emerald orbs over the muscular figure of the shadowsinger, fully ready to pounce if the other male agreed to the duel, making sure he had one hand to steady her and calm the panic that slowly rose in her chest that he could feel echo in his own like a whisper. Rhys and Cassian exchanged looks past Azriel, questioning looks between eachother as a silent question of ‘Did you know about this?’ was exchanged, only for the looks to turn worried as Azriel slowly pushed their hands away and rolled his shoulders to stand at the base of the dais.

“She wants the man I was, supportive and caring, at least she thinks she does, She needn’t bother when I was acting like she was overly fragile and would shatter at the slightest touch. In reality beneath the facade I wear for her, that's nothing like me, just cruel, protective, and obsessive in all honesty. She knows little of what I’ve done to others but knows how I allow females to flirt with me at her expense. So what about you Tamlin, what makes you so deserving of her?” Azriel hissed, with a roll of his shoulders, Rhys and Cassian ready to pull Azriel back away from the dais if he seemed like he was going to storm up the dais at the blonde. 

The two offered another hiss of his name in warning and he looked back over his shoulder at them. “What it's not like he’s any wortheir of her than I am, he may be a high lord but I am not afraid of him.”

Tamlin straightened his posture, but angled his head lower like a predator would do when assessing if he should pounce on his prey now, it was clear where this conversation was going and what Azriel would decide on. He pulled her hands off him so she could take a few steps back from the possible fight that was to break out, and took a step down the stairs causing Azriel’s head to snap back in his direction.

“Not afraid of me you say, yet no one asked if you were in the first place.” Tamlin growled. “You think yourself more worthy of her, that you own more of her heart than I do?” 

“She is my finance,” Azriel hissed right back at him.

“She is my mate.” Tamlin countered, that rumble deepening in his chest.

“Your bond may speak to her, but her heart will always be mine.” Azriel snapped venom on his tongue, “I was the one to help her with rehabilitation while Rhys threw himself into new high lord duties.” 

“You think so?” Tamlin chuckled a dark teasing tone to it as he sneered down at the shadowmaster. “You really think that? That she would belong to you with all your… flaws. Dare I call them that instead of other things.” 

Azriel straightened as Tamlin took a few steps around him down the dais like an animal circling its prey; when Tamlin had become high lord the significance of the fact that habits of a predatorial beast carried over into his regular fae form from his beast form and stuck with him more and more as the years went by and he let the savagery take hold of him, as much as he had tried to lessen the evidence of that fact some habits stuck and he couldn’t unlearn them permanently having just become instinctual. 

Tamlin hissed as he circled behind Azriel and back up the stairs of the dais. “Look at you, indebted to your high lord for pitying you,  a cruel torturer who makes up for the abuse he suffered in his childhood by taking it out on those his highlord orders him to torture for information, it’s almost pitiful. Answer me boy, Shall we settle this with a blood duel? Let fate and the mother guide us here and let the cauldron take the hindmost?”

Azriel tensed at the turn of phrase, he recognized it from the human/fae war as something that was said to keep armies moving together at the same pace. ‘Cauldron take the hindmost’ it sickened him to hear it again a wish for the cauldron to enact its will on any who fell behind and could not support the cause, yet it enlightened Azriel to the fact Tamlin viewed this as a declaration of war.

Azriel scoffed, Hazel eyes sharpening on the beast like emerald ones in front of him. “Look at me? No. Look at you, a foul beast, traitorous, unlovable, who hurts anyone who gets close to him because he is an unworthy feral beast of a high lord who was never supposed to even inherit the title he was given. Call the stakes then, I’ll partake. May the Cauldron take the hindmost.”

Azriel and Tamlincould hear the audible gasps and disappointed sighs around them but were too focused on one another as Azriel climbed a couple steps to stand toe to toe with Tamlin.

Tamlin, brushed the mask from his face tossing it to the dark high lord who fumbled trying to catch it all of a sudden. “Then we shall duel tonight, for the hand of the Princess of the Night Court.” 

Azriel and Tamlin were getting snippy back and forth, yet Azriel nodded. “Tonight is fine. Draw the line.”

Tamlin tilted his head in a cocky manner, taunting the raven haired illyrian. “Is she yours or mine? You’ll lose tonight.”

Azriel hissed back. “I won’t lose.”

Tamlin puffed his chest out a mimic to the illyrian’s earlier wing posturing. “If you lose, you leave her be, you will never speak to her again and we will leave from here she may speak to anyone else from the night court but not you.”

Azriel agreed yet again, “Fine! And if I don’t? If I win?”

Tamlin scoffed. “The opposite will apply to me, i’ll never speak to her again and will close off the bond. I will never step foot in this court again unless strictly on business with Rhysand.”

Azriel nodded, stalking to the far side of the platform and stripping any excess accessories from his figure so they wouldn't get in the way during the fight, at least it wasn’t to the death like blood duel’s had a tendency to be. “Then let’s begin.” 

Tamlin moved to shake Azriel’s hand after discarding the eccentric cape and accent pieces, signifying the rules being set in place. Both men nodded with the agreed upon statement of “May the Cauldron take the hindmost.”

Tamlin went to step away, to move to his side of the platform, looking to Rhys to signify he was to be the mediator here, but as Rhys began climbing the stairs Azriel snapped, pulling Tamlin to him with a low warning hiss. “You think fate is in your favor? You think you are in control just because of a damned mating bond? You can't cheat on this one even if you tried.”  

Tamlin countered with a growl, more calm and collected than the other male. “This duel,” He scoffed. “All the rules have been rearranged, every move is riskier.”

Azriel pushed him away and rolled his shoulders, shaking out the aggravated nerves in his body with a quick stretch of his wings before they settled back against his back in a tense manner. “I will gladly bet against the bond, fuck it I’d even double down. Fate has redesigned itself before.” He had raised his voice, gesturing to Feyre. 

Tamlin simply took a deep breath, letting Rhys come to stand in between them in the center of the platform as he moved to take the waistcoat off as well and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Fate is on my side, it led me to her long ago and has always continued to do so. It will do so again today.”

Azriel was getting frazzled at the blonde's simple and collected exterior. “ I’ll wager that when this duel is done, I’ll have won her from you then.” 

Tamlin snapped dismissively over his shoulder as he turned back to face the male across the room from him and nodded towards Rhys. “Either way.”

Rhys looked to Azriel who gave him a frantic nod, Rhys sighed as he rolled his shoulders back and spoke loud enough for the crowd to here him. “May the Cauldron take the hindmost.” 

Both males lurched forward as Rhys stepped back to let fists fly at each other, eventually Azriel had Tamlin pinned to the ground with his knees either side of the blonde’s ribcage and trying to barrel down on the blonde’s face though many attempts failed and collided with the stone and tile floor leaving his fists a bloody mess.

“Her heart belongs to me. The engagement has secured that.” Azriel had yelled only to be stunned by Tamlin’s cocky smug smile.

“Are you sure?” Tamlin had flicked his tongue over his busted lip with a cocky laugh and a knowing smile plastered on his face.

“What?” Azriel had faltered.

“Are you so sure?” Tamlin reiterated, slowing down his speech mockingly as he  held Azriel’s wrists who struggled to reel back to throw another punch at the blonde.

“What do you mean?” Azriel's question was quick and clipped as if thrown off by Tamlin’s prideful ego in his questioning of Azriel and the lord’s mates bond.

Tamlin was quick to flip them, pinning Azriel under him the same way they had just been only with Azriel’s hands pinned under Tamlin’s knees. The blonde leaned back a smirk on his face as he pointed towards the girl curled into Rhys’s side, she could tell Tamlin was pulling punches, he knew he had won even before offering the duel, he could see it in her eyes and feel it in the bond.

Tamlin leaned down to grab Azriel by the collar. “The necklace that she wears, such a design is strange to see, wouldn't you agree? The color isn’t a standard one used in this court, it's representative of something else, of someone else that isn't you. Isn’t the color of your siphons and that you choose to represent yourself with a dark blue? That's a far stretch from green isn’t it?” 

“No-” Azriel had started a snarl on his lips. “Rhys gave her that.”

Tamlin snarled back with a smirk. “He gave her that for me, the night we both became High Lords an unspoken promise between us solidified in the emerald she wears around her neck. Doubt yourself now boy, If I wasn’t worried about her being upset I’d have had this duel be for your life.”

Both males snarled at one another in the face of truth, yet it was Azriel who continued to taunt Tamlin even though he couldn’t get out from under the Spring lord. “I call your bluff and we will see who wins out once and for all.” 

Both of them growling in eachothers faces. “He who wins, wins it all.”

Yet it was Tamlin who slammed Azriel’s head back against the tile floor by ravenette’s throat and hissed lowly “May the Cauldron take the hindmost.”

It was then as Azriel struggled to breath under the blonde’s grasp that the female the entire fight was over rushed forward. “Stop! Stop it both of you!”

Tamlin sighed, smiling and released the Illyrian’s throat as his wings thrashed beneath them both. Tamlin moved off of the illyrian, staying on his knees with his hair a mess and back straight as he looked up at her, an adoring look on his face as he caught his breath. Azriel rolled  onto his stomach and into a push up as he coughed and tried to regulate his breathing head weakly lifting to watch her take Tamlin’s  face into her hands.

Tamlin’s eyes sparkled as she cupped his face. “The duel in your honor has pleased you then?”

She smiled and laughed, “You always were a show off who was eager to please.” Before leaning down to pull him into a kiss.

“I’ve missed you, you asshole, making me wait so long I feared you had given up and moved on.”She chastised him.

“I could never truly do that, you are my only, you should know that my dear.” Tamlin crooned back trying to lull her to lean forward and give him another kiss, when she relented he hissed as the adrenaline wore off and the busted part of his lip stung. 

She sighed running her finger over the clotting blood, watching as his brows furrowed for a split second before his magic started kicking in to heal the cut. She hummed softly, “Stand and we will leave to get you cleaned up.” 

She offered a nod to Rhys who was checking on the defeated Illyrian on the ground, Rhys nodded back at her as he patted the coughing male's shoulder and back. Tamlin had rose wobbly to his feet, chest still heaving as she placed her palm to his chest an unspoken sentence asking for just a moment; Tamlin nodded and she stepped away and pulled a second necklace from its hiding spot below the neckline of her dress, slipping it off the small silver ring inlaid with the blue cobalt stone dangled on the chain and she hung it around the illyrians neck with an apologetic smile. The illyrian let a sob wrack his body and Rhys offered her a sad smile, knowing what he was about to say would probably hurt his brother more but Rhys knew the seriousness of this situation, he would be discussing matters of a wedding and a mating bond with the blond soon enough. 

His eyes flicked over to Tamlin, who now had a worried Lucien rushing to his side. “You may both stay here for the night, come the morning we will discuss matters of your mateship and wedding, the town house is yours for the night and the rest of us will be at the river estate if you need us.” 

The high lord had since tucked the female into his side, Lucien standing on edge with the waistcoat, cape, and mask in his arms, offering them to Tamlin Lucien dismissed himself. “I’ll be at my apartment then.” before he was trailing off down the hall to a winnow safe room.

Rhys made a gesture for the two to leave and she nodded, pulling Tamlin down the hall Lucien had disappeared into just a few seconds ago, pulling him into a small circular room the inner circle used to flit in and out of the court of nightmares. The chilly night air nipped at her collarbone and shoulders as she rushed him into the townhouse that her family rarely used anymore. Neither spoke a word, both nervous and on the edge as she ushered him through the door once the wards had unlocked to let them pass. 

Dim faelights lit the house in a soft yellow light fitting for the time of night, Tamlin stayed close behind her as she stepped into the memory filled living room and ran her fingers nervously over the carved wooden backing of the couch but stilled in the doorway to observe the silent house littered with some of Feyre’s paintings; taking a sharp breath she turned to look at Tamlin with a pleading look. Tamlin smiled back at her taking a few steps to close the distance, cupping her face in his hands for a change he pressed his forehead against hers and let his eyes flutter closed simply appreciating her presence.  

“I can’t cook for you since we should wait till we make it to Spring to-” She had started rambling nerves getting the best of her, yet Tamlin simply hushed her with a kiss.

“I’m not worried about that right now love, It's been hundreds of years since I have simply got to appreciate you, your presence, your very being. Let me simply hold you like this for a minute.” He sighed letting his shoulders sag as any and all tension left his body. “Plus I had plenty to eat at the ball, so I'm not really hungry, rather exhausted actually.”

She nodded quickly pulling him close to her to rest his head in the crook of her neck and let him pin her against the back of the couch, the sentiment was there but it caused Tamlin’s nostrils to flare, his pupils to find themselves in a slit like state, and a growl at the back of his throat. “You still smell like him, as much as I’d love to continue this I need to scrub his scent from your body before I lose my composure, well any I still have at least.” 

She straightened her back, a mix of aroused and startled at his possessiveness over her. “There's a bathing room attached to my room if you wish to follow me up the stairs then.”

He nodded, taking a slow step backwards to let her move freely towards the stairs, instead she entwined her fingers with his own and pulled him up the stairs behind her. Towards the end of the hall of doors was a door decorated in decorative ivy and faelights, she stopped to push the decorated door open and smiled as the faelights flickered to life within her room. The room Tamlin realized was decorated like how Rosehall used to look, oak walls a contrast to the normal darker wood if not stone walls that were normal in the Night Court, dark emerald green curtains covered the door to the balcony with more of the false ivy and dangling soft lights. Emerald Green seemed to be the frequent accent color in the room, the silk sheets topped with golden furs, the curtains, a throw blanket over a loveseat in the corner, even a rug on the floor was reminiscent of his court and Rosehall. 

Tamlin’s brows furrowed as she moved to toss the silk shrug style stole onto the small loveseat. “You made it look… It looks like the old Rosehall?”

His eyes that had been scouring the room fell to her figure that was pushing through a door into the attached bathing chambers, they stilled at the sight of the deep scars visible due to the open back of her dress. 

“Yes, I did, it just felt right. Some memory of that place before the darkness touched it needed to be preserved.” She smiled at him in the mirror as she wiped away the kohl lining her eyes.

Tamlin’s steps felt heavy as he took a few steps forward as his calloused hands fell to the small of her back and his head dipped to press his forehead between her shoulders sighing as his voice came out a weak whisper. “You are too good for me, you know that right?” 

The tender touch to her back had caught her off guard, her breath hitching as his head came to rest against her. “Tam-”

He sighed, his breath brushing against the sunken scars on her back and finding her eyes on him he offered a mischievous glance from behind her shoulder.  “I mean it Starlight and,” He leaned back down to pepper kisses across the indentions. “I will spend every day of the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

She turned around in his hold, pulling him down for an actual kiss; he smiled through it before sighing as he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. “Don’t try and distract me here! I mean it and I intend to start with that promise tonight.”

Her brows furrowed in a teasing and playful manner she scolded him. “Tamlin!”

He chuckled as he scowled at her. “Not like that silly girl,” He stopped for a split second to consider his words. “Okay, perhaps like that but I should first ask if you've any body lotions. I intend to offer a massage first and then mayhaps I’ll make my downfalls up to you by devouring you for a few hours.”