#returning from self imposed exile to say

[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page

Make You Mine - Chapter 14 

Choices, The Royal Romance, The Royal Heir AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist 

Main pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who both belong to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M 🔞 - Warnings – Series will have crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 4816 

Make You Mine - Chapter 14 

Chapter Summary: Daniel & Matteo get married in Greece 

Music Inspiration:

Unchained Melody, Righteous Brothers 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’) 

A/N3: My submission for @choicesaugustchallenge , prompt "Summer Wedding"

"What an amazing wedding venue!" Riley gushed as she and Liam leisurely strolled, hand-in hand along the pristine beach with William. "This white sand ... the turquoise water ... it's absolutely breathtaking!"  

Liam smiled tenderly as he admired her elation and innocent amazement of the seaside in front of the hotel. Arriving on the island of Santorini, the weeklong pre wedding festivities began as wedding guests arrived to join the celebration. 

“It truly is," Liam agreed as he also took in the beauty of the scenery." I can definitely see why Daniel and Matteo chose this location. However, I must say that Cordonian bea --" 

Interrupting his father, William tugged his hand and pulled, "Daddy, I wanna play in the water. Pleeaaase?!" 

“Is that so?”

William squealed when Liam at once picked him up and twirled him around, giggling and clapping his hands in delight.

"He's getting so big!" Riley cooed, reaching out to tickle William's belly. "You're such a big boy now, aren't you?" 

William grinned and nodded. "I'm three now, mama!" Grinning and patting his chest proudly. 

"That's right, Will," Liam chuckled, giving him a high-five. "You're growing up so fast!" 

They continued their walk along the beach, taking in the sights and sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. Riley slipped her arm through Liam's and leaned her head against his shoulder. William began to pull away from them to follow a seagull that flew up from the water's edge. 

"William, don't run too far ahead," Riley called after him. 

"I won't mama," William called back, slowing his pace. Damien, who followed close behind, kept an eye on the prince. As they continued their walk along the beach, Riley and Liam enjoyed the feeling of the warm sun on their skin and the gentle breeze blowing through their hair. 

"What a perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon," Liam smiled joyfully. "This is what I have always dreamed of -- you by my side, with children underfoot ...enjoying life with my family." 

"I couldn't imagine being anywhere else," Riley said, returning his smile. 

"Nor I, Riley," Liam said, placing his arm around her waist pulling her closer. 

"I'm so happy for Daniel and Matteo," she sighed. "They're perfect for each other." 

"And so are we." 

"We are," Riley murmured, tilting her head as she leaned up and captured his lips. The kiss was slow and deep; savoring the taste of him.  

Liam's tongue brushed against hers, sending a thrill of desire throughout her body. He pulled her even closer, his hand splayed on the small of her back. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging gently as she kissed him harder. 

They were so caught up in each other that they did not even notice when Maxwell, Bertrand, Savannah and Bartie strolled alongside. 

"Hey, lovebirds," Savannah called, breaking them out of their passionate embrace quickly. 

"Sorry," Riley giggled, her cheeks flushing. 

"It's okay, you're just young and in love," Savannah smiled, giving her a knowing wink. "But don't forget, there are little eyes around, too." 

"Yes, save some of that for later, you two," Bertrand chimed in, indignantly.  

"You're one to talk, Bertrand," Maxwell guffawed. "I've seen the way you and Savannah can't keep your hands off of each other." 

"I suppose you have a point," Bertrand conceded, looking pleased with himself. Liam acknowledged, "Duke Beaumont, you are correct. It is good to relax and spend time with the people we care about. It's what we all need." 

"Indeed," Bertrand said, his eyes sparkling. 

"We'll try to keep our hands off each other, just for you," Riley laughed, teasing the elder Beaumont. 

"Good, thank you," Bertrand huffed. 

Maxwell chuckled, "Yeah, I'll make sure Bertrand behaves himself in public, too. For Bartie's sake, of course."

"What are you talking about?" Savannah asked, her brows furrowing. 

Bertrand’s eyebrows shot up in annoyance. "Nothing," Maxwell and Bertrand said in unison. 

Bartie, seeing William up ahead, tugs his mother's hand wanting to join his friend. 

"Bartie, don't go too far," Savannah called as he sped off to join William.  

"Please excuse me, your majesty," Bertrand quickly followed the chase. 

Liam and Riley exchanged an amused look and continued their stroll along the beach, hand in hand. “Hey, Max, how did you convince your brother to come to the beach, anyway?" Riley grinned mischievously. 

“Ha,” I had to bribe him,” Maxwell shook his head, chuckling. “I told him if he would come out here that I would look after Bartie during the wedding. He was reluctant at first, but eventually, he caved.” 

"That's sweet of you, Maxwell," Riley said. 

"Yes, Maxwell, that's noble of you. It is good that you are looking after your nephew. You're a great uncle." 

"Thanks, Liam. I appreciate that." 

"Of course," Liam smiled. "What on Earth--"

Up ahead, as Bertrand pursued his son, the chase ended when he tripped and landed face first, with a splash, into the water. 

"Bert!" Savannah called out, "Bartie, what did I tell you?" 

"Sorry, mommy," Bartie said sheepishly. 

"Bertrand, are you okay?" Maxwell asked, rushing to his brother's side. 

Bertrand grunted, pulling himself up and wiping his face. "I think that's enough for today," he said, looking annoyed. 

Savannah giggled, "It's okay, Bertrand. Accidents happen." 

"Right," he nodded, with a look of disgust at his wet clothing. 

"Let's get out of here before something else happens." Maxwell chimed in, trying, but failing not to laugh. 

"I think that's a good idea," Liam said, suppressing his amusement. 

"Yes, I'm fine," Bertrand grunted as he stood up, soaking wet. 

"Let me help you with that, Bert," Savannah offered, handing him a towel. 

"Thank you, Savannah," Bertrand said, taking the towel. 

Maxwell helped his brother dry off while Bartie looked on, a look of concern on his face. "Father, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you fall into the water." 

"It's alright, Bartie. Accidents happen," Bertrand replied, giving the boy a small smile. 

"Come on, let's get you back to the hotel so you can change into some dry clothes," Savannah said, taking Bartie's hand. 

"Yes, good idea. Let's go," Maxwell followed behind, shaking his head with a smirk. 

As they walked, Bertrand turned his head back to Maxwell. "Did you see what happened? I could have sworn that there was a shark fin in the water. It looked like it was heading straight for Bartie!" 

"A shark? Really?" Maxwell burst out laughing uncontrollably. 

Damien, overhearing their conversation, grinned as he turned with William and walked towards Liam and Riley. 

"That was quite the scene, huh?" Damien quietly commented and snickered. 

"It was something," Liam nodded, as he bit the inside of his cheek, successfully holding his laughter. 

"It was quite entertaining," Riley chuckled. "Bertrand needs to come out here more often, especially with Bartie. He is so sweet." 

"Having his son and Savannah with him at House Beaumont has been a positive influence on him." Liam replied. "Bartie is just curious and adventurous. He's a good kid." 

"He's a little rascal," Damien laughed. 

"Maybe, but he's a cute one," Riley added. 

Damien stopped walking as he noticed Olivia and Drake up ahead at the hotel entrance. 

"I'll be right back," Damien said, making his way towards the entrance. 

Riley watched him leave; her brow furrowed in question. "What's going on?" 

"Well, I think Duchess Olivia has an admirer." 

"Is that so?" Riley asked, her interest piqued. 

"It would appear that way," Liam said, his lips curving into a knowing smile. 

As Damien approached closer, he saw Olivia and Drake locked in an intense discussion. He could not make out what they were saying, but he had a feeling that things were getting heated. 

"We should keep walking," Riley said, smiling coyly at Liam. "Yes, let's get out of here." Liam agreed, taking her hand and leading her further down the beach. 

"This is the perfect place for a honeymoon," Riley mused. "Greece is so romantic." 

"Do you see that temple over there, Riley?" Liam asked, motioning to a magnificent structure that rose up from the shore of the main island. 

"That's the Temple of Apollo," he continued. "It's one of the most famous monuments in Greece." 

"Wow, it's gorgeous," Riley breathed, awestruck. "It looks like something out of a movie." 

"The ancient Greeks were known for their exquisite architecture," Liam explained. "They used materials like marble and limestone to create these stunning monuments." 

"It's incredible to think that something so beautiful has lasted for thousands of years," Riley pondered. "I wish I could have seen the world back then, when these temples were still new." 

"Me too," Liam chuckled. "Although I'm not sure how I would have adjusted to a time without modern technology." 

"True," Riley laughed. "I can barely manage going without my phone for a few hours, let alone a lifetime." 

As they continued to walk along the beach, Liam regaled her with stories about the Greek gods and goddesses, and how their myths had inspired the Greeks to create some of the most iconic art and literature in the world. Riley listened with rapt attention, enthralled by the stories of love, betrayal, and heroism. 

"So, which god do you think would be the best fit for you, Liam?" she asked teasingly. 

"Hmm, that's a tough question," he chuckled. "But I think I would have to say, Hermes, the god of travel and trade." 

"A good choice," Riley nodded. "What about me?" 

"Definitely Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty," he replied without hesitation. 

"Wow, high praise indeed," she blushed. 

"It's no less than you deserve, my love," he murmured, kissing her cheek softly. 

The sun was beginning to set over the sea, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach. The breeze ruffled Riley's hair as she leaned against Liam's chest, her heart filled with joy and contentment. 

"Thank you for coming here with me, Liam," she whispered. "This means so much to me." 

"It is my pleasure, Riley," he murmured, holding her close. "I'll never get tired of seeing the world with you." 

He leaned in and moved a lock of hair behind her ear, and kissed her lips, as she melted into his arms. 

Daniel and Matteo’s wedding day... 

The setting was stunning, with the Aegean Sea providing a breathtaking backdrop. The guests were greeted with glasses of champagne, and Riley and Liam mingled with their friends and Matteo's family.  

 As the sun started to set, Riley noticed that Daniel and Matteo had not arrived yet. She began to wonder if there had been any delays, but as she was about to text them, the guests heard a motorboat approaching the shore.  

 Riley gasped as she saw the two grooms arrive on the boat, looking dashing in their tuxedos. The guests cheered as the two men disembarked and made their way towards the ceremony venue. 

The music changed to a slower, more romantic song as Daniel and Matteo walked down the aisle, arm in arm. 

"Welcome, family and friends, to the wedding of Daniel and Matteo," the officiant began. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of these two wonderful people in marriage. 

“Daniel and Matteo have chosen to write their own vows, which they will now recite to each other." 

Matteo nodded and took Daniel’s hand. 

"Daniel, when I first met you, I knew you were someone special. You are intelligent, kind, and incredibly generous. You have brought so much joy into my life, and I am so grateful that I get to spend the rest of my life with you." 

Matteo paused and took a deep breath, his eyes glistening with tears. "Danny, I promise to love and support you, to be by your side through good times and bad, and to share in your dreams and ambitions. I will love you and cherish you for all the days of my life." 

With tears in his eyes, Daniel takes a deep, shuddered breath. 

 "Matteo, When I first met you, I never imagined that we would end up together. But every moment we have shared since that day has made me realize that you are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You are kind, funny, and so very dear to me. Thank you for making me a better person and for loving me unconditionally. I vow to be your partner in all things, to stand by your side through the ups and downs of life and to love you forever and always.” 

After the exchange of rings, the officiant asks, "Matteo, do you take Daniel to be your lawfully wedded husband?" 

"I do," Matteo replied, his voice thick with emotion. 

“And Daniel, do you take Matteo as your lawfully wedded husband?” 

“Yes, yes, I do.” Daniel smiled through his tears. 

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom!" 

Daniel and Matteo wasted no time embracing and kissing each other passionately. The guests applauded and cheered. 

"Congratulations, Daniel and Matteo!" the officiant announced. 

"I love you, husband," Matteo said, cupping Daniel's face. 

"And I love you, husband," Daniel replied, kissing him again. 

The newlyweds made their way down the aisle, surrounded by their friends and family. As they walked, they could hear the guests chanting "kiss, kiss, kiss!" 

Finally, Daniel and Matteo obliged, stopping to give each other a long, loving kiss. Matteo lifted Daniel's hand in thew air and with the other he lifted a glass. Grinning, he smashed it down and yelled, "Opa!" 

Matteo chuckled. "I can't wait for our honeymoon." 

"Same," Daniel grinned. 

Riley smiled as she watched the two men walk off hand in hand. She turned to Liam, her eyes sparkling with happiness. 

"That was so beautiful," she said, her voice full of emotion. "They are truly in love." 

"They are," Liam agreed, his voice tinged with sadness. 

Riley turned to him; a questioning look in her eyes. "Are you okay, Liam?" 

Liam nodded; his expression somber. "I'm just thinking about the past. How could my life have been different if I had chosen you from the start." 

"But you did choose me," Riley reminded him, her tone gentle. 

"Yes, but at my coronation --," Liam began, his tone regretful. "If I had given you that ring, things would be so different." 

Riley placing her hand on his cheek, “we're together now, and that's all that matters. I'm so glad you came with me here," she said softly. 

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he replied, his voice low and husky. 

He leaned in and captured her lips, and she happily responded. 

Amidst the cheers and applause, the guests were gathering for the traditional Greek wedding dance. Riley and Liam were swept up in the moment, as Maxwell and Savannah linked arms with them as they joined in the dance. 

The music changed to a slower, more romantic song, and the guests formed a circle around the newlyweds. 

"This is called a Syrtos," the band leader explained. "It's a traditional Greek dance that symbolizes the union of two souls. Daniel and Matteo, if you will please take the center of the circle." 

"Now, everyone, join hands and begin the Kalamatianos," the band leader instructed. 

The guests joined hands and began to dance, circling around the newlyweds. 

"Great! Now, the bride and groom will walk around the inside of the circle, holding hands. Opa!!!" 

Daniel and Matteo danced around the inside of the circle, their arms linked. As they passed their friends and family, they shared smiles and hugs. 

"This is a wonderful tradition," Liam whispered in Riley's ear. 

"I know, it's beautiful," she agreed, smiling. 

The dance came to an end, and the guests broke into applause. 

"Thank you all for joining us on this special day," Matteo called out, his smile beaming. "We are so happy that you could share in our celebration. We hope you have a wonderful time and that you will join us for the reception." The reception was a beautiful blend of traditional and modern, with delicious Greek cuisine and a lively dance floor.  

"Congratulations, Daniel and Matteo," Riley said, giving them both hugs. 

"Thank you, Riley," Matteo replied, smiling. 

"We're so happy for you both," Liam added, shaking Daniel's hand. 

"Thanks, Liam," Daniel said. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a reception to get to!" 

With that, Daniel and Matteo made their way to the wedding feast, hand in hand. The guests followed, ready to continue the celebration. 

The newlyweds were soon swept away by the joy and excitement of their reception, and the party began in earnest. Loud music played and the guests danced and celebrated well into the night. 

Riley and Liam spent the evening talking and laughing with their friends, and when it was time to cut the cake, the couple fed each other a slice, much to the delight of the guests and then snuck off to take some photos. 

William pointed to the wedding cake displayed on a nearby table. "Look, Mama! Big cake." 

"That's right, sweetie. That’s a wedding cake."  

“Mama, you and daddy married, too?" Riley’s eyes snapped up to meet Liam’s gaze as he smiled tenderly, raising his eyebrows.

"Maybe someday," she said, winking at Liam. 

"Can I have cake now, pleeaase?" 

"Of course," Riley smiled. 

"Come on," William said, getting up from his chair, grabbing Liam's hand. 

"Okay," Liam chuckled, as he started to stand up to follow his son. “Oh Liam, no worries. I can take him.” 

As Riley started to rise from her chair, Liam tenderly put his hand on her shoulder, urging her to still be seated. Liam bent down and placed a sweet kiss on her cheek.  

William led his father over to the wedding cake, where they were greeted by an older woman. 

"Ah, King Liam." The woman bowed her head and dropped down to curtsy. "How can I help you, Your Majesty?" 

Liam graciously bowed his head in respect and placed his hands on William's shoulders. “My son would love to try some of the wedding cake, thank you." 

"Of course, Your Majesty. Would you like a small or large piece?" 

"Wait ... is the cake made of baklava?" Astounded by his favorite dessert in the world made into a wedding cake. He was ecstatic. 

Matteo overheard his question and leaned over, a grin on his face. "It is, actually. It’s my favorite." 

"Wow," Liam breathed. "This is amazing." 

"My yia yia [grandmother] made it herself." Matteo said. 

"So, would you like a slice, Your Majesty? She smiled warmly. 

"Please," Liam nodded, his eyes sparkled happily. 

Matteo 's grandmother first cut a slice for William and then cut a generous slice and placed it on a plate for Liam. 

"Here you go." She smiled proudly.

"Thank you," he said, his tone sincere. 

"You're welcome, Your Majesty." 

Liam took a bite of the cake and sighed contentedly. "αυτό είναι απίστευτο" ["This is incredible"].

"Χαίρομαι που σου αρέσει" ["I'm glad you like it"], Matteo smiled. 

"ο Βασιλιάς είναι ένας σοφός άνθρωπος" ["The King is a wise man!"] Matteo's grandmother exclaimed. 

"μιλάς ελληνικά;" ["You speak Greek?"]

"Έκανα μερικά μαθήματα" ["I took a few lessons," Liam admitted.

"Λοιπόν, τότε είναι διπλή τιμή που σας έχω εδώ! [""Well, then I'm doubly honored to have you here."]

"παρακαλώ η τιμή είναι δική μου!" ["Please, the honor is all mine."]

*** 

After the desserts were served, the band began playing a lively tune. Maxwell grabbed Savannah's hand and dragged her to the dance floor. Bertrand contentedly remained seated with Bartie. 

"Come on, Daddy," William said, pulling at Liam's sleeve. 

The woman's eyes went wide as she realized the little boy was his son.

"Θεέ μου ο Μάτι ο βασιλιάς έχει έναν γιο!" ["Oh, my goodness, Matty ... the king has a son?"]

*** 

Later in the evening, Matteo's grandmother approached Liam, as he enjoyed a drink with Drake and Olivia.

"Your Majesty, please give this to your bride. It's a family heirloom, and I want her to have it," the elderly woman said, pressing a small, ornate necklace into Liam's hands. 

"Yia yia, With respect, I can't accept this. It's too much," Liam protested, but the old woman was adamant. 

"Nonsense," she insisted. "It's a gift from me to your bride, for more healthy babies. 

Liam felt his face flush at her words and the thought of having more children with Riley. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you, Yia yia. But I must ask why." 

The old woman smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Because I see the love between you two, and it reminds me of my late husband and me. You are a lucky man, Your Majesty. I hope you cherish each other always." 

Touched by her words, Liam gave her a hug and thanked her again. 

As Liam sat back down, he could feel the intense gazes of his friends look straight through him.

***

Laughing, and out of breath, Riley and Maxwell sat down from dancing at the table. "This was so much fun. I am so thirsty ..."

"Say no more, Ri. I'll be right back with refreshments," Maxwell stood up and saluted, in jest, and went to the bar.

"It's lovely to see you celebrate Daniel and Matteo's wedding." Liam squeezed her hand.

"They are so happy together." 

"They are," Liam said, a slight wistfulness in his tone. 

Riley caught his gaze and held it for a moment, reading the look in his eyes. 

"We're going to get our happy ending too, you know," she lowered her voice, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

"I know," Liam replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"And even if we have to wait a little longer, it'll be worth it," Riley continued, her tone firm and confident. 

"I couldn't agree more," Liam said, his expression softening, making a mental note to send Olivia a 'thank you so much' gift for helping Riley find her spark again.

"Besides," Riley added, a mischievous glint in her eye, "I can think of a few ways to pass the time until then." 

Liam laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're incorrigible," he said, his tone playful. 

"You know you love it," Riley teased, leaning in closer. 

"I do," Liam said, his gaze fixed intently on hers. 

Their faces were only inches apart, and Riley could feel her heart racing. She knew she could pull away, but she couldn't seem to make herself do it. 

Liam leaned in and kissed her soundly, the taste of scotch lingering on his lips. Riley closed her eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment. 

When they finally broke apart, their faces were flushed, and their breathing was ragged. 

"Come on," Riley said, her voice low and husky. "Let's go back to our room." 

"Gladly," Liam replied, his voice matching hers. 

They slipped out of the reception, their hands intertwined. As they walked back to the hotel, they knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would always have each other. 

***

Later that night, Liam and Riley were getting ready for bed in their hotel room. Riley had just finished washing her face and was brushing her teeth when she noticed Liam staring at her from across the bedroom. 

"What?" she asked, toothbrush still in her mouth. 

"Nothing," he chuckled. "You're just so beautiful." 

She grinned, her cheeks turning pink. "Charmer," she mumbled. 

Liam walked over to her and gently took the toothbrush from her. "Matteo's grandmother gave me something for you," he said, pulling the necklace from his pocket. 

Riley's eyes widened as she saw the beautiful piece of jewelry. "Liam, it's gorgeous," she breathed. 

"Here, let me put it on you," he said, his voice soft and husky. 

He reached around her neck and fastened the clasp, his fingers brushing against her skin. Riley shivered at his touch, her body responding to his closeness once again.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart fluttering. "But I don't understand why--" 

"She told me it was for more healthy babies," he interrupted, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Oh," Riley said, her blush deepening. 

"Well, we should probably get started then," Liam said, his eyes darkening with desire. 

He pulled her close and kissed her, his tongue brushing against hers. Riley melted into his arms, her body pressed against his. 

"Yes, Your Majesty," she murmured, her lips curving into a smile. "We should definitely get started." 

Thank you for reading, tags are in the comments. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

@choicesficwriterscreations @thosehallowedhalls

[zenscrypt]

"on feathers and dreams"

read it on ao3!

Rated: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Content Warnings: possession, brief self-harm (ender king hurts purposefully hurts phil's body), drowning, brief vomiting

Summary:

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

-- A self-imposed exile leads to a reunion.

You.

His skin writhes with an intruder's presence.

“What about me?” he rasps, aching eyes watching the ocean underneath him. The sun had set moments ago -- maybe hours, but he’s stopped counting -- and now, the waves lap at the cliff walls with a hypnotic motion. How long has it been now? Weeks? When was the last time he slept? Ate? Did anything besides stare vacantly at the endless horizon and entertain that nagging voice in his head.

Every part of his body aches since that moment in the forest -- he had to wrench the control away at each second, demanding the movement of his own body. His eggs had run from it. His body remained frozen so he wouldn’t chase after them with the dagger in his hand. The backpack is gone. He’s powerless.

Even his voice comes out wrong. His vocal chords are wrung from two warring voices fighting over them, a deep snarl so unlike what his body is used to, and his normal voice. It’s all… wrong.

Let me out.

The voice hisses, sharp and ringing in his head. It has no face, but he still raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do?” he scoffs. “No. You’ll have to beg harder than that if you want to escape so badly.”

A quiet sea breeze rustles through his feathers. It all feels still, peaceful, static. Normally, he would be lulled to sleep by this, but something in his body refuses to let him sleep.

When he looks up, the void stares back at him.

What a familiar face. Distantly, he thinks of it as home. The night sky, free of twinkling stars and suffocating clouds, just a vast emptiness for him to soar through. This island was nice, but it was only a vacation.

The End was where he belonged.

Let me out.

“You can keep demanding that,” he sighs, disappointed. It’s like he isn’t even trying. He’s bored by each attempt because it hasn’t changed. Has it been days? “I won’t give it back so easily at your request.”

You will pay for this.

“Will I, now?”

Give me back my body.

The voice rumbles now, deep in the back of his head -- and his wings flare. “Your body?” he hisses sharply. Indignation rushes through him. His body? Does he even hear what he’s saying? “What makes you think this body is yours? It’s always belonged to me. Has your greed gotten to your head?”

You are so full of shit.

There it is.

His lips twist into a grin that stretches too thin on his cheeks. “Oh, crow,” he croons, “do you really think your insults will do anything to you like this?”

Fuck. You. Ender.

He laughs, louder, booming off the cliff face. “Face it, Philza. You’re useless like this.” The King taps his claws — his claws, not flimsy talons, dripping with the tears of the void — against stone and rolls his neck back, spreading out his wings. His wings. “Be patient. I haven’t had my fun with you yet.”

Do not hurt my kids.

“And what will you do about it?”

The King’s mind falls silent.

He hums. Typical. All bark and no bite from this little pest. “Try to take your body back. Speak for yourself if you think you’re strong enough,” he goads, returning his gaze to the void.

Die.

A laugh erupts from The King’s chest again. That really is the furthest he could do, isn’t it? How pathetic. “I will repeat this until it finally sticks to your feeble little brain, Philza: we are one and the same. You conquer every new land you’ve traveled across and steal every last piece of valuable treasure from its habitat -- and you say it’s for protection. For your safety. For your eggs. Do you really believe that fantasy that you’ve made up? Do you really think I would believe these lies you tell yourself? We both know the real reason you claim all of these things for yourself. Right?”

I didn’t take them.

The audacity. The King’s wings flare out again, feathers standing on end with rage and the pulsing amethyst light branding into his skin. “Do not lie to me, Philza.”

I didn’t take your fucking wings.

“Do not lie to me!” he roars. His fist slams into the ground, knuckles first -- and the King hears bones snap and break with a grotesque pop. This mortal body is just a puppet for the King to control, so Philza is the only one to feel the pain receptors firing. He hears a sharp, pained cry in his head and Philza’s pitiful voice finally quiets. Insolent brat.

The King lifts the damaged appendage with a flat stare. The stone underneath his first had cracked under the force, but Philza had a fast metabolism, so the hand slowly began to repair itself before the King’s eyes. It was hardly fascinating. Dragons could regrow heads.

Once it fixes itself entirely, the King rolls the wrist to test it out. It must still feel tender or sore, because he feels an involuntary flinch in his wings. He has to bite back a snarl. Of course Philza picked his wings for that.

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

---

He didn’t hide his location on the map. It had to be a sign.

Missa had to believe that.

He told Phil he would protect him. As best as he can, with all of his willpower. Sure, he isn’t the strongest and he can barely hold his sword right sometimes, but he made that promise to Phil and he intends on keeping it.

“Tallulah… Tallulah told me,” he says to the black wings shadowing Phil’s seated form. The moon sits high in the clouds and against his back as Missa takes a step forward. It’s almost eerie, how still Phil’s body went at the sound of his voice. Just moments before, it was bellowing with a voice so unlike Phil’s, Missa was convinced somebody else -- something else -- was here.

Rose-weaved signs flash in his head. [ he… he hurt me ] [ but papa is still in there ] [ i know he is ] [ i dont know what to do apa ]

Chayanne had disappeared too. Part of Missa hoped he would find his little egg here too, along with Phil, bantering as they farmed in a new location or sparring with Phil’s cawing laughter and Chayanne’s adorable quacks. It was… wishful thinking at best. He couldn’t just ignore Tallulah’s fears.

There’s no response, so he continues cautiously, “You don’t have to say anything. I just… want to know if you’re alright. I don’t think you should be alone.”

Phil’s head lifts. Blond strands roll over his shoulder, but he doesn’t look completely over to meet Missa’s eyes. “How did you find me?”

He… sounds fine. Maybe too fine — it comes out flat, lacking any of his usual inflections, and cold. If Missa hadn’t known any better, he would’ve taken that answer the second he heard it.

But he doesn’t. “I came as soon as I heard,” he murmurs, trying to see past the shadows of Phil’s face. There’s the faintest glow of something violet illuminating his face from a downward angle. Underneath his black feathers, a pattern of light pulses slowly, like a heartbeat. Missa doesn’t tell him -- them? -- how long it took. They don’t need to know that; as long as they-- Phil knows that Missa was looking for him, that’s enough.

“You’re too late.”

“Maybe I am,” Missa says without missing a beat, confident as he takes another step forward. Phil’s wings begin to spread and, despite the warning signs, Missa advances. “I’m always late, aren’t I? Phil-- I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t respect my promise like I told you I would. I woke up for Tallulah, spent as much time with Chayanne as I could, but-- I couldn’t do it for you. I’m sorry.”

The Ender King scoffs. Missa shoves aside the queasiness rising inside his empty ribcage, because they’re using Phil’s voice but it sounds nothing like him. He knows better. “Your apologies mean nothing to me. He’s too far gone to hear this. Leave me, or else.”

Or else. Or else what? Missa’s resolve burns through the dread that tries to freeze him in place. “Tallulah wanted me to tell you, if I found you,” he continues with another step, and another dangerous twitch of those obsidian wings, “that she forgives you for attacking her. You’ve always looked out for her and Chayanne -- that’s why you’re doing this now, right? You just want to protect them. She knows. She forgives you.”

Tallulah doesn’t.

That’s the thing. She was terrified at the thought of following after Chayanne to try and find her papa, conflicted because of the fear this deity instilled into her and her love for her father. She didn’t take to any of Missa’s reassurances -- she was as stubborn as her feathered parent, albeit so much more intune with her emotions.

More importantly though, Tallulah told him that Phil knows she wouldn’t forgive so easily. It takes time for her to recover from her wounds, no matter how fresh they are. Phil would know this.

When Phil’s body finally turns to look at Missa, his eyes are wide. “She does?” he whispers, in utter disbelief.

Missa nods. “I missed you,” he adds quietly.

…There’s truth to that one, unfortunately. It feels too easy, and he hates that it works. Phil’s body sways as they stand up -- and Missa rushes to close the gap between them, reaching for Phil’s hands. They’re almost unrecognizable now, covered with black scales and nails sharpened into something far stronger than this sharper-than-average, black-painted nails.

He’s always loved Phil’s hands. The few nights where they were under the same roof, he asked if he could paint Phil’s nails for him. It was something that brought unnamed nostalgia to Missa, a memory from his past life he couldn’t exactly grasp, and it was a fun night where they learned they could paint Chayanne’s nubby paws as well. Phil’s hands were always nice and well-kept.

Like this, they’re completely gone. Not to mention the black mass pulsating on Phil’s shoulders with that violet glow he spotted earlier. His nonexistent stomach twists into knots. He rubs his thumbs along gnarled knuckles and, holding eye contact, asks Phil, “Are you okay?”

Phil’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. The wind lets his hair sway, his wings ruffle, and the act is laughable. Missa almost feels insulted. “I’m fine,” they reassure Missa with no reassuring inflection. “Now, what did th-- Tallulah tell you?”

Missa glances away. “She… everything, Phil. It- it freaked me out a little bit, but-- are you sure you’re okay? I just wanted to come here to make sure everything was fine. I’ll leave if you want.”

Phil’s wings twitch again -- Missa’s starting to realize this must be an involuntary twitch, because the sigh they let out sounds… aggravated, and the wings tense against Phil’s back again. Missa tries not to let his surprise show. He’s still in there.

Behind Phil’s body, past his wings, the edge of the ocean meets the starry sky. It’s an impressive sight. They’re fairly high up.

“I told her not to tell any more people,” Phil’s voice says with another displeased sigh. His eyes lift back to Missa’s. Gone are the beautiful azure he loved so much, replaced with a cold, amethyst purple. When they look at Missa, it’s like they’re looking through him. “How much do you know? The King won’t be happy when he hears about this.”

You don’t seem like it, Missa thinks, unimpressed. He swallows and glances away from Phil’s changed eyes. “I- I mean, I can pretend I don’t know anything? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snoop.”

He’s still in there somewhere. Missa needs to get him back.

He… isn’t a fan of the idea he’s come up with though.

Phil’s eyes soften. He reaches up carefully with his unbroken hand, cupping the underside of Missa’s cheek in his black, clawed hand delicately, as if he were a flower. His touch is ice-cold against Missa’s wispy skin. “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispers, violet eyes searching his. “This is all my fault.”

Alright. That’s enough.

Missa slams his hands into Phil’s chest.

Lo siento, querido.

The cliff’s edge drops off directly into the ocean. Missa saw it as he paddled his boat to the island and worried, for the longest moment, that Phil’s distant figure was going to jump. Would he have flown, if he did? Did the deity Rose heal his wings like Chayanne told him? Would it be Phil that finally gets to spread his wings -- or somebody else?

Phil doesn’t fall. His only tether to stability beside his feet, desperately scrambling against the stony edge, is Missa’s hand, clenched around the collar of his kimono.

“What--” The King snarls -- his voice booms suddenly, unnaturally deep in Phil’s light voice and echoing over the cliffside.

Missa holds firm, staring down violet eyes stretched wide as saucers. He can’t hold this for long, but he keeps his stance balanced. There’s a chance this might not even work. Missa could be wasting his time.

Better him than Chayanne.

Phil’s wings pump through the air for his own balance. The flaps are stilted and uneven, strangely enough -- it’s not instincts trying to keep him upright. Something is holding them back. Is something trying to… keep them closed? Hope wells inside Missa’s chest.

The loud, thunderous voice quiets back to Phil’s as if nothing happened. “What do you think you’re doing?” they say incredulously, feigning innocence.

“Let me talk to him,” Missa says firmly.

They bat his eyes. “Talk to who? I’m right here, love.”

It’s all wrong. How smart does this thing think they are? Missa’s arm starts to shake with the strain of holding Phil’s weight -- so he gives the thief a thin, weak smile. “Philza never calls me love.”

Cloth slips from his hands, and Phil’s body plummets.

Without missing a beat, Missa dives after him.

(He really hopes the Ender King is allergic to water.)

There’s barely enough time for Phil’s body to rotate and catch the airs in his wings for flight. Those huge, black shadows billow in the wind as the thing controlling his body thrashes, suddenly out of his element, eyes stretched wide and fear in their grimace. Those wings have been broken for so long. Maybe, if they had the chance, they could’ve flipped around and taken control of his flailing body as they fall.

Missa can’t let that happen.

It’s a horrible feeling, taking hold of Phil’s wings in the air. Claws flash, but Missa grits his teeth through the pain and the cold drip of his blood down his face to hold Phil’s body as tightly as he can. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento, lo siento.

Faintly, as the ocean below swallows them whole, Missa wonders… if Phil could fly, would he take Missa with him?

The water around them makes everything go blurry, sluggish, heavy. Missa is naturally weightless, but the armor he’s wearing lets him sink further down. More claws swipe at him until their squirming gets to be too much -- they break free with a sharp knock against Missa’s jaw and shove him away.

The Ender King’s eyes are terrified. They’re holding their breath, eyes wide and furious when they glare at Missa, but quickly, they look back up to the surface above them and try to swim for it. They kick Phil’s legs and pump his wings frantically -- Missa panics, thinking they’ll manage to escape the second they break free from the ocean’s grasp -- but then, Phil’s wings stiffen up. Their eyes shrink even further.

“No!” they screech, and all of the air rushes out of them in large, globe-like bubbles. As loud as the voice once was, the water muffles the booming effect, as if trying to silence his cries. “Stop-- give me back my body, you--”

All of Phil’s limbs freeze in their scramble. Missa watches as they try to suck in another breath and only take in the seawater, sputtering and seizing. It’s horrific, trying to watch somebody you love try to fight for control with no room to breathe. What is he supposed to do? What can he do?

The King continues babbling, voice growing shrill without any oxygen in his lungs, “Not again! Not again, I can’t-- No--”

Missa counts the bubbles rushing from his lips until there’s no more. The ocean grows still. Quiet. Phil’s body sinks.

Limp.

He’s going to die.

The realization spurs Missa into action immediately. He went unconscious, but Missa only has a minute until Phil dies and respawns somewhere else.

Hurried, frantic Spanish spills out of him as he takes Phil’s body in his arms and swims up to the surface -- Phil’s head lulls onto his shoulder the second they both break free. Land- land-- where--

There! Where Missa left his boat, a small shore under the cliff roof, but far away. Too far for Missa to reach with Phil’s -- heavy -- body in tow. Hastily, he searches his inventory.

It’s cluttered with random items he picked up along the journey after Phil’s map marker, but a singular enderpearl catches his eye. Thank the gods he decided to take it with him for some reason, as if he could’ve spoken with the Ender King through it or some shit-- it doesn’t matter. Missa grabs it and, without missing a beat, launches it in the direction of the beach.

As it flies, Missa wraps his arms around Phil’s body and squeezes him as tight as possible against his chest. Please teleport with me, please teleport with me, please--

Pop! Missa hits sand with a heavy weight in his arms.

It worked. He has no time to celebrate. Carefully, he adjusts Phil onto his back, taking as much care as possible with his wings, laying them out flat and not kneeling over sodden feathers, and his trembling hands hover over Phil’s body. The death counter ticks in his eyes. Fourty seconds.

And counting down.

Dios mio. What does he do?

Breathing-- is Phil breathing? He peels off his gloves and throws them somewhere in the sand, bones rattling in the dark wisps that make up his skin and making it nearly impossible to stay still to check for air. He hates how pale Phil looks, and the dark circles around his eyes, and the way his face is too slack -- is he breathing? If Missa’s hands would stop shaking--

Twenty-five seconds. Phil still hasn’t moved. Tears well in Missa’s eye sockets. Why hasn’t he moved?

Pulse-- check for a pulse-- please, why isn’t he-- it’s the best thing Missa can do, carefully pressing against Phil’s neck, trying to remember where the pulse point is. Twenty seconds. He bites his tongue to hold back a whimper. Phil, please--

Thmp. He can barely feel it. Thmp… thmp… thmp…

Is that--?

Water gurgles.

Immediately, Phil’s body seizes and water splatters from his open mouth -- Phil’s eyes shoot open as coughs rip from his throat. Missa retracts his hands with a surprised squeak, eyes stretching so wide it hurts but-- Phil?

He rolls to his side to dry heave, a painful, guttural noise that Missa hates, oh, Gods, please let him be fine. His whole body shakes with each retch. Missa, twitchy, anxious -- needing to do something because is it Phil, is he okay, how can he help -- finally gives into his urges and reaches over to brush Phil’s long hair out of the way as he vomits the seawater out.

When he finishes, Phil lets out a shaking breath and slowly, on shaking limbs, pushes himself up into a sitting position. Missa’s hands follow him carefully for support.

As he catches his breath, Missa hovers still. The silence wanes on. He can’t see his face -- his eyes, Missa just wants to check, dreading the sight of that same purple glow that’s still stuck under his feathers.

“Phil?”

His wings shift. Weakly, Phil’s head lifts to meet Missa’s seeking eyes.

Blue.

“Hey, mate,” Phil croaks, looking exhausted.

It’s-- Missa can’t help it -- an overjoyed sob escapes him, tears finally bursting from his eyes. “Philza!”

“Mis-- ouff--”

He doesn’t have time to return Missa’s exclamation the way they normally do before Missa collides into him all at once. A caw startles out of him -- so crowlike Missa is swarmed with adoration and endearment and relief. Phil’s okay, he’s alive, he’s back -- Missa has to bend down and shower his face in loud, blubbering kisses, vocalizing each with an exaggerated, “MWAH!” that makes Phil burst out into breathless laughter. It’s the only distraction Missa can give himself, trying so hard to keep his trembling bottom lip shut.

For Phil. For Phil.

“Okay, okay!” Phil laughs, craning his neck away for space but Missa only takes the opportunity to press his lips underneath his jawline and blow a raspberry against his skin. “What the fuck-- Missa! Chill out!”

His words are meant to be sharp, but he’s giggling like he’s drunk and Missa feels like it. It’s infectious; he feels silly laughing into Phil’s neck, needing to cling onto every inch of Phil’s skin he can reach, relieved and happy and so, so, so-- scared--

A sob tears out of him.

Missa has never been the strong one here.

“Oh, mate,” comes Phil’s achingly sweet murmur into his hair. Missa curls in on himself, into Phil’s embrace, letting the terror finally sweep over him.

Gods above, he almost killed Philza. He knows how painful death is for him, even if they respawn-- but if he respawned, he would be with Chayanne and Tallulah. He would’ve put them directly in harm’s way if he didn’t save Phil in time. They could’ve died because of him.

Missa wants to be strong for his family. He tells them, over and over again, he wants to protect them the way they protect him. He wants to be there for them when they need it. He wants to love them as much as he can.

But he can’t. He’s gone so often, and he can’t help it -- can’t help it when Death calls back to him in his sleep and he loses himself in his past again -- no matter how much he tries. If this plan of his failed, his kids would’ve been through the same thing. Gone, except, unlike him, they won’t be able to escape.

How can a protector do that? How can a father do that to his kids? He doesn’t deserve the title of a husband, much less a parent. All he does is sleep and dream, and-- and--

“I’m sorry.”

Missa hiccups. Phil’s voice vibrates against where he’s buried himself against his throat, his hands loose where they’re wrapped around Missa’s back. He leans just as heavily onto Missa, muttering, “This is all my fault.”

What?

Phil sucks in a breath -- and Missa hates that it sounds shaky like his sobs, which can’t be right. “I should’ve- I should’ve known he was coming after me. All of the warning signs were there. I took that stupid backpack without even thinking about it, and look where that fuckin’ got me. I’m-- god, I’m fucking stupid. The worst fucking dad.”

What? No, no, no-- Missa lifts his head away with his eyebrows knitted together, finding Phil staring resolutely away from him, his teeth gritted and eyes glimmering in the moonlight. That doesn’t make any sense. Why is he blaming himself? What is he blaming himself for? A deity possessing him? Is he being ridiculous?

“Phil, what are you talking about?” he whispers.

He watches Phil grind his teeth and give a very forced, controlled exhale through his nose. His eyes shift down to the sand underneath him, the space on his opposite side where Missa isn’t is, down into his lap. When he opens his mouth, his jaw trembles as he laughs something harsh and bitter, spitting, “I’m fucking terrified, Missa. I don’t know how to get myself out of this.”

His voice cracks in the middle of his words, and the second he finishes, Phil shatters.

Missa watches his face crumple in dismay. “No, no, no, querido,” he moves quickly and shushes him gently, gathering Phil in his arms. A strangled noise, torn between a sob and wail, gets muffled into Missa’s cloak and Missa cradles Phil’s head closer, pressing his lips to the golden crown of his hair. Skeletal fingers run through his scalp as delicately as he can.

How long has this been going on? How much has Phil been holding this all in?

Has he told anyone this?

Everybody must think of Philza as the most collected person on the island -- even Missa thought that, because who couldn’t? He held himself together well, kept to himself, and offered kindness whenever somebody needed help. He’s always been the one protecting -- because he never let anybody else do it for him.

He grew up so alone. Of course he would expect to manage on his own, but--

Missa screws his eyes shut, feeling more tears drip from his sockets. He can’t handle this problem by himself. And now…

Taking in a shaking breath to calm himself, Missa pulls away from Phil’s embrace. His face is red and splotchy, eyes swollen, and he makes another strangled grunt, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears and mucus. His shoulders still shake with labored breath and the occasional hiccup. He looks miserable.

Distantly, he wonders if he’s the only person that’s seen Phil like this.

Missa’s hands gently sweep away his to cup his jawline, tilting his face up. Tears stain his cheeks -- wet streaks that replace the sticky, dried-out marks from the seawater that was on his skin -- and Phil still can’t look him in the eye. He doesn’t seem like he’s used to this attention. This kind of vulnerability.

That’s fine. Missa brushes away the fresh tears that bead from his long eyelashes. He holds Phil, just like this, taking him in. He doesn’t want Phil to hide this from him, not when he’s here.

When blue irises finally focus on him, it’s shy. Missa’s chest flutters. Even like this, he can’t help but feel enamored by the crow in his arms. He had no idea someone so strong could look so bashful at someone like Missa.

Love is a strange thing, he thinks as he leans down and fits his lips over Phil’s.

It’s a simple message, a reminder. Phil tastes like seawater, but Missa drags him deeper, willing to drown himself in it for him.

Phil pulls away first -- his breathing still isn’t steady, and the kissing probably isn’t helping, but he stretches to meet Missa’s lips again anyway. It feels like a response -- Missa was fine as long as Phil heard, but he wants to return it-- him-- his head spins.

He doesn’t care if his feelings are reciprocated or if Phil even knows how far Missa is willing to go for him, always. Relief pours over him like honey and he sighs into the kiss, letting Phil take the lead.

There’s a bit of a challenge, namely Phil needing to breathe. He parts long enough to take in a breath before diving back in, and it’s-- endearing, tickles Missa in a way that makes him giddy, but he knows he should probably put a stop to this if Phil wasn’t going to, for Phil’s sake. He’s not the one with lungs here after all.

(He also wasn’t the one to almost drown.)

Despite this though, Phil chases after him the second he starts to pull away. His nose knocks into Missa’s skull, the edges of his nasal cavity -- and still, that doesn’t deter him. Missa’s endeared laugh gets muffled by Phil’s smiling lips; he can’t help but give into his fluttering chest and Phil’s touch.

Eventually, they part, just not very far. Missa rests his skull against Phil’s forehead -- at his insistence -- to listen to him steady his breath. Behind them, the waves lap at the sand. They’ve gradually dried over time thanks to the enchanted armor they wear, but Missa feels ready to collapse like he’s weighed down by bricks.

He can’t imagine how Phil must be feeling.

“Missa…?”

He blinks, sitting back on his (hurting) knees (ow, he’s been on them too long), peering at Phil. The crow looks like a mess still, but under the moonlight, Missa doesn’t care. Phil gazes at him, hesitant -- an expression Missa’s never seen on him before.

They… have a lot to talk about, don’t they? If Phil even feels comfortable enough to talk to him about it. Something nags in the back of Missa’s mind -- a horrible voice in his head that usually points out all of his insecurities -- that this feels too perfect. The Ender King disappeared too fast. They’re too happy.

Chayanne is still missing. Tallulah is no doubt worrying about him, and Phil, and now Missa. The sand underneath them is bathed in that eerie purple glow from the mass on Phil’s back -- he said something about a backpack? -- and Missa still feels the edges of his fears still gnawing at his bones. Phil isn’t okay, and there’s no telling the next time Missa may wake up.

Phil’s voice carries in the breeze. “Can… can you stay here tonight? With me?”

Oh.

A warmth, fuzzy and like the sun, coils in his ribcage. Missa nods, maybe a bit too aggressively, with, “Sí, sí, si me quieres aquí. Anything, Philza.”

Phil’s smile crinkles the edges of his eyes, his crow’s feet, in a way Missa thinks only he’s seen before. “Thank you. Th- thank you, Missa.” It sounds as if the world is lifted from his wings. Maybe it has.

It isn’t much, but it’s something. They find a spot underneath a tree, far from the beach or the stony cliff, and Phil lights up the area as much as he can despite his exhaustion. As they work together, they talk. This isn’t the end of it. The water scared Ender off, but it didn’t get rid of the mass on Phil’s back, or the darkened claws that were Phil’s hands.

It was enough for tonight. Phil hadn’t slept as a punishment to himself, afraid Ender would take control in his sleep -- but that ended in his downfall the moment his consciousness lapsed with the sleep deprivation. Ender swooped in, and Phil was too exhausted to try and fight back.

So it comes to no surprise that Phil’s asleep the second his head hits Missa’s lap.

Blond hair weaves through Missa’s skeletal hands as he chuckles quietly. With two fingers, he picks up a lock of his hair and presses his lips to it, murmuring to Phil’s sleeping face, “Buenas noches, querido. Que descanses.”

The moon above them wanes into something full, bright, whole -- a lunar eclipse just ending. It watches Missa slowly drift to sleep as well, hearing Death’s distant call.

For the first time in his existence, Missa fights against the natural calling of his undead body. Maybe it’s a pointless fight. Maybe Death will still claim him in the end. Maybe he’ll give into the urge with his fears too heavy and pressing in his mind and submit himself to the void.

He fights because he wants to wake up next to Phil. He can’t leave him alone after tonight. He wants to help him with this, in any way he can.

Just like he promised.

[separatist-apologist]

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara wants nothing more than to return home and exact revenge on the courtiers who hurt her and killed her sister. Exiled to a distant temple, Gwyn finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious stranger offering to escort her home on orders from her eldest brother and king of the realm.

Unraveling the secrets of the strange soldier will prove more deadly than Gwyn could ever have imagined, setting into motion events that began nearly five hundred years before.

Happy @gwynrielweeksofficial!

TW for mentions of past sexual assault

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1

Gwyn found herself seated before Merrill while Clotho stood just behind. It was another gloomy day, threatening rain which made the study seem darker by comparison. Merrill had books stacked so high they created walls within the four walls of her office and everything was claustrophobic. Gwyn knew she wasn’t supposed to fidget—both princesses and priestesses were expected to have a perfectly rigid spine. 

Merrill was dragging this meeting out, watching Gwyn with that haughty suspicion she was all too familiar with. Eris could have picked her for a wife, Gwyn thought privately. They shared so much in common already. Gwyn could only imagine who he’d selected, certain it was some nightmare from the south looking to enhance her fathers power while tormenting the court.

Gwyn was going to beg her brother to let her take up residence at the sea palace. She’d put on her bravest, sunniest face, dance and smile and laugh, and then at the end of the festivities, swear she barely thought of Catrin at all and could she please spend a few months looking at the sea?

Maybe he’d be too busy trying to put babies in his new wife to care what she did. Gwyn very much doubted her other brothers had strong opinions on where she was or what she did. But she’d make sure they saw her, too. Smiling–happy. Alive, which was more than Catrin could say. 

It wouldn’t matter if either of those things were lies. 

As if they could tell the difference.

“Gwyneth,” Merril began, eyes focused wholly on Gwyn. The priestess was a beautiful woman—young, too, for someone so revered. It annoyed Gwyn that Merrill referred to her as Gwyneth—even Eris didn’t bother. Neither had their father, who had always called her princess in that mocking, sneering way of his. 

Gwyn could have demanded Merrill address her properly. Could have made the priestess bow so low her nose scraped the stone floor beneath them. It was tempting and yet wrong all at the same time. Gwyn settled for fidgeting, holding Merrill’s gaze and daring her to say something about it. 

“Your brother has released you from your service here,” Merrill continued, eyes narrowing. “You will leave with the knight tomorrow. We’ve packed you a few provisions but I wanted to discuss the books in your bedroom.”

Gwyn forced herself to maintain eye contact. “What books?”

Clotho offered up a wordless sigh, her fingers slowly moving through the air. Gwyn had never dared to ask what had happened to Clotho or why she didn’t speak. If it was natural or self-imposed, Gwyn couldn’t say. She wouldn’t have cared had it not been for those fingers of hers. They’d been purposefully broken by someone and it didn’t look as if they’d ever properly healed.

Merrill drummed her own fingers against the desk, clearly annoyed and unable to do much but wait.

Don’t leave as angry as you came in, Gwyn. 

“Who says I’m angry?” Gwyn replied, adopting her sweetest voice. Clotho leveled a stare, not needing a word to call Gwyn a liar. 

“Bring the books back before you go,” Merrill added snappishly. “They are not for you or the palace.”

“Everything in Ellesmere belongs to the king,” Gwyn replied, though this wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. She knew she’d bring them back and Merrill must have, too, because she reclined back in her chair, a queen holding court before her subjects. Gwyn bristled but rose to her feet and inclined her head, making a mockery of the whole thing.

At least she could have the last word. 

There was no chance Merrill didn’t write Eris ahead of time and give him her perspective of Gwyn’s time at the temple. Eris would be so irritated with her. What, she wondered, would his knight tell her brother, too? If she was difficult and unladylike, would that be held against her? If she had a nightmare, if she couldn’t keep a smile plastered to her face? 

Gwyn made her way out to the vegetable garden, ignoring several hens pecking at the soil so she could plop onto a wooden bench. Only there, beneath that moody, gray sky, did she dare vocalize some of her frustration with a long, quiet scream. 

No one ever came out here. It was reasonable to assume she was alone. But there he was, appearing seemingly out of the mist with a cocked head and curious eyes. “Heard the good news, did you?”

Gwyn toward the heavens. What have I done to displease you? “I still have a day before I’m remanded into your company,” she replied, unable to even pretend she was excited. 

The soldier—Azriel—sat beside her, though he kept a respectable distance between them. “You’re the only person willing to speak to me.”

“The priestesses aren’t keen on men,” Gwyn replied, glancing over at him. He was too beautiful to be trustworthy, besides. It set her on edge, too—made her nervous though she was a princess and he was practically no one at all. Why should he make her nervous? He was injured if his limp was any indication and the cut across his throat was stark in comparison to the golden brown of skin. Gwyn would have bet his ribs were all taped up still and if she needed to, she could just outrun him. 

Though he’d given her no reason to distrust him, Gwyn felt she had to be careful. 

“I’ve noticed,” he replied, settling back to look up at the sky. “Your head priestess has refused my offers to sleep outside.”

“I don’t think that would help,” Gwyn admitted, a new thought coming to her. “Will it be just you and me on the road?”

He cut a glance in her direction. “Yes.”

Two options presented themselves, each offering a different, potent form of anxiety. Gwyn could refuse to spend another minute in this man's presence and stay at the convent, no longer her brother's ward but as an actual priestess. She’d have to give up the title that had protected her and the station she’d always intended to fall back on. There would be no Sea Palace, no visiting Catrin’s grave, no more of her brothers or the life she’d once known.

And she’d likely lose her position in the library. That seemed the most offensive to Gwyn.

But if she went with him, she risked violence. He was a stranger with a pretty face and Gwyn didn’t trust men. Even low born men felt they were owed something from women. Alone, on the road…who could stop him if he decided to take more than she was offering? 

He didn’t seem interested in her internal warring, or at the very least, didn’t recognize what was happening. Having delivered the news, Azriel rose to his feet and began making his way further from the temple, unleashed and allowed. He didn’t look back, nor did he return to her long after the fog had consumed him. 

What would Catrin do, she wondered? 

Catrin would go home. She’d get out of this nightmare even if she had to claw her way out, and if Azriel was the only way to do it, Catrin was grit her teeth and figure it out. Gwyn could still boss him around, she reasoned. Could force him to stay on main roads, to rent rooms in taverns, to travel only during daylight. Gwyn had never quite managed the haughty, imperious nature of her siblings but perhaps she could try. 

Maybe she could channel a little of Eris’s attitude just this once if it meant freedom. 

At least, that’s what Gwyn told herself. Still, she barely slept that night, tossing and turning as she played out a million terrible scenarios and how she might react. Eris wouldn’t send someone cruel, would he? 

No, not intentionally—but Eris also wouldn’t concern himself with whether Gwyn felt safe so much as he would concern himself with who could get her home the quickest. Clearly it was this man who, despite provoking the ire of some unknown assailant, had all but crawled to the temple and was apparently ready to go a mere day later. 

Gwyn doubted Eris paid enough for that kind of loyalty. And still she packed up her things with a faint buzzing of excitement. She was leaving. Gods, but Gwyn would never have to see this place again, this prison dressed up as a religious institution. And the gods willing, she’d be home in a matter of days without any intention or returning.

Surely Eris could hand over the estate by the sea and allow her to have her own household. Gwyn would have to work on appearing chasetend, of course—like she’d learned some grand lesson and was now ready to be a member of their household. 

It was the happiest she’d been since Catrin died. The entire mood of the temple was upbeat, something that barely wounded her. They were all excited to see her go, forgetting that once she was no longer there, they’d have to pick a new target for their ire. Absently, Gwyn wondered which of them it would be. Who would become the new scapegoat for everyone's dissatisfaction? Would they realize the problem had never been with her?

Doubtful. 

The only person Gwyn felt compelled to truly say goodbye to was Clotho. She didn’t hate Clotho so much as she hated that Clotho upheld the rules her brother had obviously set in place. Standing before her in the library, a bag slung over her shoulder, Gwyn heard herself saying, “I’m sorry I was so difficult.” Clotho’s fingers were quick with a response. You were never difficult, Gwyneth. I hope you find healing, wherever you go.

Gwyn choked down the urge to cry, nodding her head and keeping her face impassive. “I appreciate that.”

There was nothing else. Azriel was waiting outside by the barn with leads to two horses looped around a gloved hand. Merril led Gwyn out, snapping out her displeasure over Azriel’s presence and how Gwyn had made a mess of her routine, her research—everything. It was only when they were nearly to the courtyard that Merril offered Gwyn any kindness at all.

“For you,” she said, pulling a small, pale blue box from beneath her cloak. “Don’t let him know you have it.” Gwyn looked up at the woman who could have been her mentor with surprise. There, nestled among soft velvet, lay a silver hilted dagger that curved in a wickedly lethal point. A flash of recognition passed between the two of them, gone so fast Gwyn blinked and nearly missed it. But there it was—two souls who, on some level, knew what kind of danger might be waiting for Gwyn.

And despite Merril’s dislike of her, she was seemingly unwilling to let Gwyn risk it all again without some kind of aid. Gwyn took it, unsure where she could even hide it and decided on her bag for the moment until she found something better. It would slice right through her pockets which, while an amusing image, was not the kind of stealth she was aiming for. 

“Thank you,” Gwyn murmured but Merril had already turned, her job clearly done. That was all Gwyn was ever going to get and so, with a breath to keep herself from hurtling a bunch of unfair, hurtful accusations at the retreating priestesses back, Gwyn turned for the world outside.

It was another moody, miserable day made moodier still by Azriel’s flat expression. Gone were his casual, comfortable clothes, replaced by thick, black armored leather that looked frankly uncomfortable. Two lethal blades were curved behind his shoulders and a dagger was strapped to his thigh.

Where was his red cape, she wondered? That was the mark of all of Eris’s men, the red cape with the golden clasp marking the sunlight insignia of their family. Gwyn marched up to him intending to demand to know but Azriel cut her off. “No one can know we’re traveling, princess.”

Ass.

“Why not?” she demanded, yanking the reins of the one of the midnight black horses from his hands. Azriel let her, his eyes hot against her back. 

“There is one of me and one of you,” was his level, near cold response. “I’d rather not find out what the King will do if I let his sister die on the road.”

“I doubt he’d care at all,” Gwyn said without thinking, the words slipping bitterly from her lips. Azriel glanced up at her, seated now in the well-oiled saddle, a question lingering in his gaze.

Wisely, he kept it to himself and instead swung a powerful leg over his own horse, the movement effortlessly graceful and strangely fluid. Hardly a common soldier, then, though not an elite warrior, either. He was something else, something she didn’t have any knowledge of.

That was likely for the best, all things considered.

“We’ll travel until nightfall,” Azriel began, digging his heels into the flank of his beast. Her own followed of its own accord, as though it had been given some silent command. Gwyn knew how to ride a horse—had been taught as a girl, like all good royals. She didn’t need his help.

“I won’t be sleeping outside,” Gwyn told him in the snottiest voice she could manage. Eris would be proud—she sounded just like him.

“I’m well aware,” Azriel replied without humor. “You’ll be locked in a tavern room. And before you get any ideas, princess, I will be just outside.”

“What ideas—”

“I’m told you run away. Often,” he added, those hazel eyes focused straight ahead. 

Eris was such a cheat. Of course he’d warn this man, likely with veiled threats of what would happen if Gwyn slipped his grasp. The thought of trying occurred to her, though something in the set of his shoulders told her it was better not to try his patience. Clotho had never truly been angry with Gwyn. Impatient, frustrated, even irritated, yes. But truly angry? Never.

She had the feeling this man might raise his voice. Might yell. And he’d learn, if he did, that all her talk was merely bravado and beneath she crumpled easily. There was no Catrin to create a wall, to shield Gwyn from the tempers of the world while Gwyn sniffed, eyes welling with tears.

Even as a grown woman, anger so often provoked the sobbing reaction. 

“Well. I’m trying to leave this place, not return to it,” Gwyn told him, some of that haughtiness gone. She had a good plan, one that seemed achievable and promised relief. Get home. Fake enough contrition that Eris stopped thinking about her, which was almost the same as his concern. And then, once he was in a good mood—perhaps the night before his wedding, when he was likely to be a little drunk and too focused on himself to think of his wayward siblings—ask for the Seaside Palace. Maybe, she reasoned, she could ask to just go for a while and acclimate herself back into royal life.

And once she was gone and no longer causing mischief, Eris would let her stay if only to have one less person to worry about. 

“You want to return to the palace?” Azriel inquired, as though this was difficult to believe.

Gwyn twisted in her saddle, looking over her shoulder at the temple atop the hill, fading quickly in the creeping fog, its spindled fingers forever reaching for the sky without ever quite reaching. How was anyone supposed to feel human in a place dedicated to the gods? 

“It’s my home,” she said softly, turning her eyes toward the paved road ahead, curving over lush, green hills that promised freedom. In truth, the palace had long stopped being her home and yet that was where Catrin’s ghost still lived, where half of Gwyn’s heart was buried. Perhaps she could fill the aching yawn stretching in her chest, could finally have some closure.

It was tempting, right then, to ask Azriel about court life. Some sick urge wanted to know who still lingered in those ornate marble halls. She never wanted to hear the names spoken and yet thought of them so often, wondering how their lives had gone, that Gwyn was constantly at war with herself. There was no outcome that would bring her peace because no matter what happened to them, Catrin was still dead and Gwyn was still alone.

Though, she supposed being allowed to kill them would be a close second. 

Azriel asked her no more questions, settling into a comfortable pace. On occasion he stopped to let the horses graze and rest, but for the most part they rode in silence. It left Gwyn with too much time to think, and thinking very quickly turned to ruminating. She knew she couldn’t change the past and yet…if only she’d told Eris sooner. If only she’d kept what happened to herself. Catrin might still be alive and Gwyn wouldn’t feel so angry and hollow. 

They’d been more than just sisters. Gwyn and Catrin had shared a womb, a body, a soul. Tilting her face skyward, Gwyn would have given anything to tell Catrin how sorry she was. And when a cool breeze fluttered against her overheated cheeks, Gwyn thought it was Catrin’s hand reassuring her everything was alright.

She tried to find contentment with that. 

Azriel had promised her a room, and he managed to deliver. After what felt like miles of nothing, a dilapidated village appeared just as the sun began to dip, casting even weaker light over the gloomy world. Gwyn pulled her cloak a little tighter against her shoulders as they made their way through high, iron gates covered in curling ivy. The homes were made of stone and wood, the windows chipped and covered with boards to keep out the rainy chill.

It unnerved Gwyn how no one moved around. It wasn’t that late and yet had there not been flickering candle light behind some of the filth covered glass, she would have thought the entire village was inhabited by ghosts. The tavern Azriel promised had a rotted wooden sign banging about in the wind, unreadable from the elements.

Someone came out to meet them, taking the reins from Azriel wordlessly in exchange for a couple coins pressed into a weathered palm. Gwyn said nothing, keeping her hood over her head to obscure the auburn hair that would mark her as a Vanserra. Hers was darker than her brothers—more cinnamon and gold than true coppery red—and still something about it made people pause. 

Azriel nodded for her to go inside, pulling the handle to a swinging door so she could duck beneath his arm.

“Say nothing,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. For once, Gwyn was inclined to do as she was told. Keeping herself close, Gwyn followed him over creaking wood boards toward a chipped and warped desk where an exhausted looking matron stood, her eyes fixed on the pair of them. 

She’d been told not to speak, and so she didn’t. While Azriel asked for one room, his voice low and intimate, Gwyn took the opportunity to survey their lodgings for the evening. The tavern was just that—a tavern first, room for rent second. Exhausted bodies were hunched over tarnished cups and worn bowls of food, steam curling around wan faces. Gwyn was tempted and nervous all at once.

It was a room filled with unfamiliar people, the majority of which were men. Azriel spared her the agonizing, gloved fingers reaching for her elbow to tug her in the opposite direction toward narrow, spiraling stairs.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered.

Behind them, the door opened and two men stepped into the room. Like Gwyn, their faces were obscured by rather fine looking cloaks and yet she knew without seeing them at all that they didn’t belong. Azriel’s eyes slid over their frames without recognition, turning back to her as the two large, powerfully built men made their way toward the tavern.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he replied, level as always. “In your room.”

“Fine,” she hissed, though relief pierced her irritation. “I want a lot of it.”

He only shrugged, as though it didn’t bother him one way or the other. How much gold had Eris given him, she wondered? Enough to keep her fed, which was a relief. Food was a good substitute for feeling at time, and Gwyn was tired of how raw she felt. She’d eat, she’d bathe, and she’d go to bed.

After all. She was one day closer to home.

[rafecameronscockwarmer]

THE KNIFE I TURN WITHIN MYSELF (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

writers note: 

hi okaaaay so this is my very first fic im new to the community and a little nervous so bear with me! i used to write a lot mostly when i was a kid but i haven’t in years and i haven’t written anything like this ever, but i love to write and am currently obsessed with rafe cameron and obx so i thought id give it a try and just started writing lol. i have literally never ever written smut before so if it’s cringy i apologize in advance! this isn’t a one shot i kinda maybe wanted to write a series if u guys liked it and would maybe want one? ANYWAYS it’s super angsty im not even gonna lie and definitely a darker fic so if you aren’t comfortable with that this probably isn’t the fic for you! please enjoy ✨

Words: 5.8K (it's lengthy I'm sorry lol)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON at times, STEPCEST (sorry lol), drug abuse/self harm, depression, smut eventually!!!! 18+ ONLY PLEASE

Summary: Kildare’s Kook Princess is forced to return home to the Outer Banks for the first time in two years since abruptly leaving for college. Unable to hold yourself together any longer, you’re forced to come face to face with the home and family you left behind and the boy you so desperately tried to forget.

It had been two years since you had last stepped foot on the island you once called home, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease in your stomach as you waited for the ferry to dock. You left for California the summer after you graduated, making UCLA your new home, with plans on never looking back. You used every excuse you could to avoid coming home to the Outer Banks, but most importantly, back to Tannyhill. If it wasn’t for Rose, your mother, threatening to cut you off financially unless you came home for the summer, you wouldn’t have. The Outer Banks simply held far too many painful memories for you, and the idea of being home for an entire summer made you want to hurl the contents of your stomach over the side of the boat into the pristine blue sea. 

You picked at your fingers anxiously, a nervous habit you picked up as a kid, whenever you were stressed, as you waited for the ferry to arrive on the island. You broke the habit once you moved out to California, substituting self-mutilation for a certain white powder that you were already all too familiar with due to your stepbrother Rafe’s problem with it. The irony was not lost on you, as you descended down the rabbit hole of the Los Angeles lifestyle, eventually becoming a female carbon copy of the exact person you had been running from. He was who you dreaded seeing the most, the very reason for your departure from the island and why you refused to come home. Your family, of course, blissfully unaware of the true reason for your self-imposed exile, believing you when you lied to them about being too busy with school and work to visit.  It wasn’t like you didn’t miss your family or friends, but you knew that the best thing for you was to be far away from the island that loomed before you. He had a habit of clouding your judgment, something you needed no help with as you were already prone to making shitty decisions on your own.

You walked off the ferry in search of your ride, praying that Ward and Rose hadn’t sent him to pick you up, they weren’t specific in saying who would get you which made your stomach turn in fear of being alone with him even if it was just for a ten minute car ride. You didn’t know if you could survive being in a car with Rafe, let alone back at home with him for three whole months. The anxiety in you started to grow, your comedown hitting you hard as everything you tried to forget over the last two years began to resurface. You looked around the crowd for a familiar face, your shoulders sagging with relief when you didn’t see anyone. Fuck it, you thought to yourself as you turned to get back on the ferry, your brain already coming up with a variety of lame excuses you could use to explain to your parents why you weren’t waiting on the dock and why you would not be coming home, once again.

“Y/N!” You turned around slightly annoyed at being spotted before you could make your escape, but you smiled when you saw Sarah and Wheezie, running over to you with flowers and a “Welcome Home Y/N!” sign in hand. Your heart wrenched with guilt at the sight of your sisters, your eyes welling up the moment they both enveloped you into a hug, almost knocking you down.

“We missed you so much!” Wheezie exclaimed as she took a step back, readjusting her glasses to look up at you, her face lit up with adoration.

“Did you just try to get back on the ferry?” Sarah questioned with a smirk as her initial excitement to see you wore off when she realized what you were trying to do prior to your guys’ reunion. “Gotta be quicker than that, babe.”

You laughed, raising your hands up in defense, “You caught me.” The three of you laughed together as you pulled them both in for another hug. “I missed you both so much! Wheezie, you're almost as tall as me now!” 

“Well I am a growing girl. And you would know that if you hadn’t disappeared for the last two years.” She huffed with an eye roll while you put your arm around her shoulder as you three began to make your way to the car. You cringed internally at the jab, but you knew they both had the right to be annoyed with your lack of presence within the family lately.

“I didn’t disappear!”

“No you just moved across the country and never came back, not even to visit once!” Wheezie shot back. 

“It’s compl-” You started, your anxiety rising again as you fiddled with your fingers. Sarah looked down, instantly noticing the peeled and raw edges of your cuticles, biting her lip with worry while quickly changing the subject.

“Who cares! You're finally home and ours to torment for the next three months!” Out of all your siblings, you stayed the closest to Sarah. Despite the two year age difference, she was your best friend, unofficial twin ,and the keeper of all your secrets. Well, you thought, most of your secrets.

“While there’s nothing I would love more than to be tormented by you both”, you laughed “I am exhausted from the trip and just wanna lay in my bed right now, lucky for you guys I’ll be here for three months so there will be endless opportunities for you guys to torture me throughout the summer!”

“I’ll let you rest for a bit but there’s a party at the boneyard tonight you HAVE to come! I’ll drag you by your nose piercing if I have to, you’re back home and we need to celebrate properly. With lots of liquor.” Sarah giggled before giving you the look, a simple pout she used to get her away. And it got you. Every single time. “Besides, the pogues are excited to see you! Especially JJ.”

“Oh god,” you rolled your eyes while Wheezie wrinkled her nose in disgust at the way Sarah sang JJ’s name. 

“Come on,” Sarah whined, “I’m finally old enough to party with you, and what better way to celebrate Kildare’s favorite kook princess return home with a bonfire on the beach?”

“Fine I’ll go! But I am so not Kildare’s favorite kook princess, that would be you”you snorted, as you all got into the car.

“Haven’t you heard? I’ve crossed over to the dark side.” Sarah said, “I’m a pogue now.”

Sarah was always the more free spirit of your siblings, that being one of the reasons that drew you to her when you first met. The Cameron’s were Figure 8 royalty, and with that last name came wealth, and the expectations to be better than everyone else. Especially the pogues. She was the most down to earth girl on your side of the island, a rarity in kook central, where everyone’s favorite pastime was shitting on the less fortunate that resided on the other side of the island. You were born a pogue, a fact about yourself you seem to forget often, having become accustomed to the lavish lifestyle, but you weren’t an elitist snob like the rest of Figure 8. 

“Yeah, she’s been hanging out with John B a lot,” Wheezie added from the backseat while Sarah glared at her through the rearview mirror. Wheezie stuck her tongue out in retaliation.

“John B, huh? What happened with Topper?” You teased as the blonde rolled her eyes, causing you to laugh.

“I got bored,” Sarah said as Wheezie spoke simultaneously “She got bored.”

You laughed again because that sounded exactly like her. When she first told you about Topper, you knew it would end this way, Sarah wasn’t the kind of girl that aspired to have the perfect Kook husband, family, and home. No, that was more your dream than hers. You always knew it was a matter of time before her attention would turn to the cut looking for fun. It gave her the freedom Los Angeles gave you. 

“Whatever, let’s get you home so you can rest so we can go out and have some fun tonight!” 

The reality of your situation began to settle within you, as you looked out the window at the streets of what you once considered home. You wanted to cry but held back tears, not wanting your sisters to know that you really didn’t want to be home. They were so happy to see you, and you missed them so much, it was hard for you to think about how you left them behind and how much they’d grown since you left. You felt like you missed out on so much, but you knew deep down it was your fault. You chose to be gone. Wheezie was right, you all but disappeared.

Sniffling discreetly, you turned your attention back to Sarah, “Who’s all home?” 

“Dads out of town, some meeting with investors I guess I don’t know,” Sarah said, “Rose is with the committee finalizing the finishing touches for Midsummers.”

“Oh God, I forgot all about Midsummers,”  you groaned at the thought of being surrounded by every single family that resided on Figure 8 and all the pretentious ass kids you went to school with. It was the event of the summer, every summer, and as Ward Cameron’s daughter, your attendance was mandatory. It was the perfect place for him to show off his perfect family to the community and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the idea of pretending to be the perfect nuclear family, when you were very much the opposite.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to center yourself, “What about Rafe?”

“He’s at the club, golfing with Kelce and Top” Sarah said as she rolled her eyes at the mention of Rafe. They were never close, your stepfather’s love for Sarah shined brighter than his love for Rafe. His favoritism was no secret, no matter how much Sarah wanted to deny it, you could see it, everyone could see it. It bothered you, and you knew Rafe resented her for it, which made your heart involuntarily ache every time you thought about it. 

“He’s been a real dick lately, ya know, like I don’t know what his problem is.”

“Yeah he’s been acting really weird since he found out you were coming home” Wheezie said, as your heart began to pound erratically at the thought of seeing him again. You couldn’t avoid him forever, especially not when your bedroom was directly across the hall from his. You’ll be okay, you think to yourself, in an attempt to calm yourself down. Just avoid him at all costs, and you’ll be fine, you thought. Easier said than done, but it doesn't hurt to attempt anyway.

“Maybe now that you’re home you can pull the stick out of his ass. He was always nicer when you’re around. You’re like the only one he listens to anyways.” Sarah huffed as she finally pulled up to the long driveway of Tannyhill. She was right, unfortunately as you were always the one to keep Rafe in check, the only one who could pull him out of his episodes when his intrusive thoughts took over and he began to act maniacally. It was you who came to his rescue after every fight he no doubt purposely started, and it was you who cleaned and bandaged his wounds. While you and Sarah were close, you and Rafe were inseparable, or well, used to be before you basically ran away. Your hands start to shake as you gripped your phone tighter, attempting to ground yourself. It’d been too long since your last bump, and that insatiable craving for more coupled with your anxiety had you on edge. You had to get to your room as soon as possible. 

“Ugh anyways, enough about Rafe,” Sarah said in disgust as she put the car in park and turned to you, her blue eyes wide and excitement coursing through her veins. 

“Welcome home!”  Wheezie squealed, poking her head in from the backseat as the car came to a halt. You looked up at Tannyhill, the sprawling mansion intimidating you as your childhood memories all came rushing back, overwhelming you, causing a swirl of butterflies in your lower stomach, that you did your best to ignore.  You weakly faked a smile, not wanting them to know that you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than back here. Welcome home, you thought bitterly to yourself with a grimace. Welcome fucking home.

Eleven years ago.

You were nervous, excited, but nervous to finally have a real home and family. Life on the Cut with your mom wasn't bad. You were a lot more fortunate than others living comfortably, but you ached for a real family with siblings and a dad that was actually present. Not long after you turned nine, you were gifted that, when Rose began dating Ward, and not long after that, he proposed to her, moving you both in with him and his three kids at Tannyhill. You liked Sarah the most, even though she was younger than you, Wheezie barely being three at the time, Rafe was a year older than you but had already held such a disdain for pogues which he made perfectly clear every time you two were in the same room with each other.

“Just because your mom is marrying my dad doesn’t make you a kook, you know,” the then ten year old said angrily, looking down upon you with a look of disgust on his face. “Once a pogue, always a pogue.”

You did your best to not let his mean words make you cry, up until then you played the sweet and dutiful daughter and were nothing but nice to Rafe even when he was being downright nasty for no good reason. But if this was your future for the next nine years, you didn’t know if you could handle it.

Finally fed up with his attitude towards you, you looked up, staring into his baby blue eyes, doing your best to look intimidating, “You’re kind of an asshole.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and a slight smirk appeared on his face as he looked you up and down, but he didn’t have the chance to respond.

“Y/N!” You turned around to see your mom stomping towards you, her face lit up with embarrassment, “We do NOT call people assholes. Apologize to Rafe.” Rose chastised.

You scoffed, “He started it!”

“I don’t care who started it, I’m ending it. Apologize, now.” Your mother looked at you expectantly, waiting for you while Rafe stood there looking amused. You wanted to slap that stupid smirk off his face but did your best to restrain yourself.

Sighing dramatically, “I’m sorry that I called you an asshole when you were being an asshole.”

“Y/N!”

Rafe laughed, probably the first genuine one you heard since you met the boy, and as much as you hated to admit it, you liked it. You wish he did it often, you thought. For the first time, his eyes didn’t hold any malice in them when he looked down at you, and your anger disappeared as you looked back up at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Ward questioned as he entered the room, sensing the tension between his son and future daughter. His steely gaze met with Rafe’s, causing the boy to look down nervously.

“Oh you know, just kids being kids,” your mother reached up to fix the collar of Ward’s shirt, one hand lingering on his chest. “It’s been dealt with.”

“Good.” He looked down at Rafe, with a look on his face you were all too familiar with. You’d seen it on your own dad when he was still around. It was the kind of look that made you want to shrink into nothing because it made you feel like nothing. It was a look that said we’ll discuss this later, behind closed doors. “Rose and Y/N are family now, and I expect them to be treated as such. She’s your sister now Rafe, act like it.”

Rafe scowled at the floor as he mumbled under his breath, “Yes, sir.”

As soon as you made your way into the mansion, you feigned tiredness immediately sprinting up the spiral staircase to your room. You stopped once you made it to the second floor, hesitating to go into your room at first, as your body unconsciously drew yourself outside of Rafe’s bedroom. His door was closed which was no surprise to you, you knew he wasn’t home but you couldn’t stop yourself as you turned the knob and pushed the door open. His room looked the same, nothing had changed since the last time you’d been in there, like two years hadn’t just passed. You couldn’t help yourself as you wandered in and closed the door quickly behind you, your back pressing against the door as you scanned his room with your eyes, unsure of what you were really even looking for. You didn’t know why you were there. Your body moved on autopilot as you moved around the room, refamilizing yourself with the place you spent countless days and nights in. Your fingers lightly brushed along the comforter of his bed, the same way one he had when you were home, knowing that this was the closest thing you’d allow yourself to Rafe. Once upon a time, you were the only one Rafe allowed in his room and now you stood in it once more, feeling like a stranger in the very place that was once your safe haven from the stressors of being a Cameron.

It became too much for you, and you turned to leave abruptly, but not before catching a glimpse of a photo frame on his desk that wasn’t there when you left two years ago. At closer inspection, you gasped when you realized it was you in the picture, well you and Rafe. It was taken at Midsummer’s when you were fifteen and he was sixteen. It was the first time you had a date to the event, instead of just attending with your family. You’d been asked by Alex Fairworth, a senior at Kildare Academy, who also incidentally you had a slight crush on at the time. You were so happy and excited to be able to go with someone as cool as Alex, but ultimately ended up being stood up that night. You spent weeks searching for the perfect dress and shoes just wanting Alex to notice you. You were embarrassed, dreading the idea of walking in alone when you realized he wasn’t going to show up. You weren’t surprised either when you ran into him at the club, a week after Midsummer’s, and had seen his face black and blue. You knew who did it as you smirked at him, silently taunting him for standing you up.

Rafe came to your rescue that night ditching his own date to ensure you didn’t walk in alone. You were grateful but the humiliation still lingered on your face when you walked in with your step brother instead of Alex, as you could already hear the whispers from others about your date or lack thereof. Rafe did your best to distract you that night, never leaving your side, glaring at anyone who dared to side eye you. He stole you both a bottle of champagne and kept you both drunk, laughing throughout the night together as you forgot all about Alex just enjoying the night with him causing chaos at the club.

Your mother had finally tracked you both down, as you had spent the night doing your very best to avoid her and dodge her questions about Alex. You were both scolded for being drunk at Midsummer's but were forced to go take photos of the family together. You remember the look Ward gave Rafe when he realized you were both drunk, as you both attempted to hold it together for photos. This photo was just of you and him, him looking down at you with a smile and while you smiled for the camera. He looked so handsome that night in his powder blue tux, your heart twisting with grief at the framed photo as you remembered the night everything changed.

You took one last look around his room before walking out and closing the door dashing across the hall into your room before you could be spotted leaving Rafe’s. You walked into your room, throwing yourself on the freshly made bed, probably done in preparation for your arrival. You felt all the tears you spent all day holding back finally bubbling back up as you cried quietly into your pillow, your entire body shaking as you sobbed. How were you supposed to handle an entire summer home you thought to yourself, mentally beating yourself up at being this shaken up over just being in his room. You don’t know why you even went in there in the first place, it was the exact opposite of your whole “avoid Rafe at all costs” plan.

“Get a fucking grip, Y/N.” You muttered to yourself as you made your way into your bathroom. You looked in the mirror at yourself, your face was sunken and your Y/E/C eyes were bloodshot. You looked like a shell of your old self, the carefree sparkle in your eyes that once shined so brightly was dead, and you suppose you were just an empty shell of the girl you used to be. You had changed so much, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. You didn’t see it in LA, but you suppose coming home opened your eyes to how you really looked now.

You needed a fix and you needed it now. Something to perk you up even if only temporarily before you started to feel like the dead girl staring back at you in the mirror. You left the bathroom to lock your door, and made a beeline to your purse for a certain small baggie in your wallet. You sighed with relief when you found it but started to panic when you realized how much you had left. You could always hit up Barry, but you didn’t want word getting back to Rafe about your newfound hobby that you picked up in California. Whatever you thought, you could always just give him more money for his silence and you knew Barry’s sleazy ass well enough to know that it would work. You quickly spilled the contents of the bag onto your phone and got to work breaking up the powder into four small white lines. You quickly snorted all of them up, rubbing your nose for any leftover residue.

You felt your heart begin to beat fast as the numbness took over your face, and you exhaled in relief as that familiar buzz invaded your body, relaxing you. You grabbed the bottle of anxiety medication out of your purse, quickly downing two pills as you laid back in bed, feeling your body tingle softly as the drugs took effect while your mind drifted away. Not long after that you finally fell into a deep slumber dreaming in a kaleidoscope of blues, the very same shade belonging to a certain pair of eyes you had spent the last two years forcing yourself to forget.

You awoke a few hours later to a loud banging on your bedroom door as Sarah yelled at you from the other side. “Don’t think you're getting out of going out with me Y/N, get up!”

You groggily opened your eyes and shuffled out of your bed to unlock your bedroom door, the light from the hallway blinding you as you opened the door to see Sarah looking at you with her eyebrows raised and a mischievous smile on her face. She was already ready, having wisely spent the last few hours preparing for the night while you were in a self-induced coma. You rolled your eyes as she barged into your room leading you to your vanity table and forcing you in the seat.

“No offense, but you look like shit,” Sarah started as she stood behind you looking at your reflection in the mirror as you sheepishly avoided making eye contact with her, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, finally meeting her eyes, plastering a smile on your face. “Just tired from everything right now. Between school and work and coming home, it’s a lot you know.” She looked at you for a minute trying to decide whether or not she thought you were lying. She nodded, her face softening as she started to brush your hair. You both sat there in silence as she styled your hair, you relaxing into her touch. You hated lying to her and hated even more that she could always tell when you were, but Sarah respected your boundaries and knew you would come to her when you were ready. You hummed in appreciation as her fingers ran through your hair pulling half of it up and pinning it with a clip.

Sarah placed her arms around your shoulders holding you from behind as you both stared at each other in the mirror, “I really did miss you. I know you said it was complicated and I respect that, but please don’t leave. At least not like that again. I get why you want out and away, you know, more than anyone else in this house at least,” she trailed off for a second, her blue eyes looking glassy, “Just don’t disappear again, please.”

You reached up to place your hand on her arm, and smiled softly, “I won’t, I promise.”

“Good.” she sniffled as she wiped her tears away, she looked at you and smiled seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Now let’s get you ready! JJ’s been asking about you ever since I told him you were coming home.” Sarah smiled smugly, evidently proud of herself.

“Sarah!”

“What? He totally thinks you're hot and I know you think he is too!” She giggled as you began to blush. JJ was cute, very cute in fact and could provide you with the distraction you do desperately needed in order to survive the summer.

You smiled slyly at her, “He is really cute.”

“I knew it!” Sarah squealed as you began to apply your makeup in a pathetic attempt to make yourself look less dead. Thankfully, a little concealer, blush, and a pair of false eyelashes go a long way. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, almost recognizing the girl looking back at you, the girl who Sarah knew, the girl in Rafe’s photo. You shook yourself out of your thoughts, you weren’t her anymore, and you hadn’t been in a long time, even before you left the Outer Banks.

The Boneyard hadn’t changed, and you don’t know why you would have thought it would be any different than when you were the one in high school drinking Mai Tai’s mingling among the crowd of Kooks, Pogues and Tourons that regularly gathered at the beach. To your left stood the Kook’s keeping to their own as usual, you thought as you rolled your eyes, you had never understood the whole Kooks vs Pogues thing on the Island, you thought it was stupid. You made your way down the beach to where a few of the Pogues had gathered around the bonfire, blunts passing as cans clinked and laughter soared through the night’s breeze. Your heart warmed at the sight of your friends, you were always closer to the Pogues even if you were the Kook princess. You were beloved by all, Kook or Pogue it didn’t matter, you radiated light and everyone around you could see that, even when you couldn’t.

Your name was shouted as Kie spotted you first, gaining the attention of JJ, John B, and Pope. They all stood up rushing over to you, Kie pulling you in for a hug with JJ and Pope throwing their arms around the two of you. John B was off to the side hugging Sarah and you smiled at the way he looked at her, you missed that as the dull void in your chest started to ache.

“Welcome back to the OBX princess!” JJ teased, using his favorite nickname for you, “Been wonderin’ when you were gonna bless us all with your presence again.” his gorgeous blue eyes raked your form up and down, while you liked the attention the shaggy blonde boy gave you, his eyes just weren’t the right shade of blue for you.

You laughed, twirling your hair, giggling as you flirted back, “ Awww did you miss me Maybank?”

“Island ain’t the same without you, baby”, He drawled winking as he grinned down at you.

“Well I’m here now,” you said as you stole the cup of alcohol out of his hands, tossing it back savoring the burn of JJ’s favorite concoction, a secret mixture of liquors he deemed “happy juice”. You felt some of the liquid slide down the side of your mouth and dribble down your throat as JJ hungrily eyed your throat, wondering what you tasted like and if you were as sweet as he thought.

“That’s my girl!” He hollered, “We got a lot of lost time to drink for, two years to be specific, let’s get you another drink princess.” You allowed JJ to grab your hand and pull you through the crowd, to the old beer pong table they called the drink station. You knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to drink and let your guard down but you needed it and it had been so long since you had fun with your friends. It could’ve been the coke you snorted before you left when Sarah wasn’t looking talking, but you wanted to get into a little trouble tonight and JJ was the perfect person to get into trouble with.

You were nervous knowing that he could show up at any moment, but you hadn’t seen him earlier when you arrived, your eyes nervously scanning the beach looking for the 6’2’ boy. You felt yourself relax into JJ’s touch as he put his arm around you pulling you into him. Handing you your cup, he walked you back to the pogues as they stood off to the side waiting for you two.

“So Y/N, kudos to getting off the Island, a rare feat for us small folks.” Pope said with a smile. Where JJ was fun to flirt with, Pope was your favorite to talk to, he was smart and amazingly self aware but was also just a really sweet guy in general.

“Yeah, how’s California?” Kie asked as everyone turned to you.

“I heard the waves out there are fuckin awesome.” JJ exclaimed.

“Honestly California’s great, I love LA. And yes the waves are fuckin awesome.” You laughed answering JJ’s question, while he beamed drunkenly at you “I haven’t really had much time to surf lately but there really is nothing like it out there.”

“Is that why you haven’t come back? Forgot all about us pogues?” teased John B, as Sarah looked worriedly at you. You shook your head laughing, silently conveying to her that you were fine, as she relaxed back into John B’s arms. For the first time in a long time you even believed it yourself, you were drunk already, JJ’s happy juice taking effect quickly as you giggled under the stars carelessly with your friends.

“I could never forget about you guys! Once a pogue, always a pogue, there isn’t a place in the world that could change that,” you assured them as they all raised their cup in agreement.

“Hear-hear.” Kie said before sipping her drink causing you to giggle some more. Damn. You were a lot more drunk than you thought.

“I have a gift for you,” JJ said as he reached into his pocket, your interest peaked as your big eyes stared at him expectantly. You weren’t sure what to expect but laughed loudly when he placed a blunt in your hand. “Nothing but the best for our Kook princess.”

You rolled your eyes as you placed the blunt between your lips waiting for JJ to light the blunt for you. It took him a second, as he was distracted by your natural pout and the way your eyes seductively looked up at him. He thought about taking the blunt out of your mouth to kiss you but decided against it. You sat back while taking a hit from the blunt, letting the THC take over your body and mingle with the other substances already flowing through your bloodstream.

For the first time since you had arrived back on the Island, you felt at peace, like nothing had ever changed. You were happy to be home, surrounded by your friends, reunited with your sisters again. You were glad Sarah forced you out, enjoying the moment, soaking it up, blissfully unaware of the fact that it was about to come crumbling down.

You looked around you, taking in the sight of your friends together, the ocean roaring next to you and the carefree sounds of the island’s youth partying together. You smile to yourself, having forgotten about your fears and anxiety, almost forgetting about him entirely and why you had run away in the first place. You looked up across the bonfire entirely by chance, locking eyes with the boy that occupied your mind when you were awake and haunted you when you slept.

Fuck. Rafe.

if you want to be tagged, comment and let me know!! i sincerely hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it<3

[inblazes]

@emissaryoftheguilty - CONT'D

Wriothesley's unconditional acceptance of the circumstances was... a relief, to say the very least. He had hoped that this would be the case -- for in their previous meetings, he had always stated how he wanted little else more than to simply take care of people.

Whilst it felt wrong to come to him with the sheer weight and scale of his own problems, he needed the opinion of someone from outside it all. The Duke seemed most likely to listen without immediate judgement or bias -- and he was sure that in all of his time at the fortress, he must have heard all manner of shocking tales about the unlikeliest of individuals.

Heavy fabric lay across his shoulders, taking off some of the chill from the night air, and Diluc pulls it close to his body, reassured. It gave him something tangible to focus on, something physically grounding -- by counting the buttons on a sleeve, or feeling the texture of its quilted lining.

Most importantly, it kept him from running away - if only for the simple fact that he would have need to return it. It seemed such a small thing, but it really did keep him from losing the mettle to continue with his own temporary, self-imposed exile from his homeland.

He needed time and space away from the things that ailed him, and whilst he knew that life in Meropide would be a step back from the freedoms he enjoyed as a Mondstadter, he knew that it would provide him with both.

Nobody would find him. Not easily. That fact alone helped to calm his nerves until they made their way to the Fortress proper, and to Wriothesley's office.

"Short notice, I know, but I needed somewhere to stay where I wouldn't be found. Somewhere to think."

He's sure that he would not be the first to come here with naught more than the clothes on his back, nor would he be the last.

"So, thanks. For heeding my letter. You didn't have to."

[maybe-boys-do-love]

So related to the news about Thailand today, I want to detail a thing i noticed when writing a longer piece about Boston on Only Friends, because I think especially watching as foreigners, we can forget or ignore some really cool subtextual commentary that's happening in the QL shows we're watching.

We learn a couple episodes in that Boston's dad is running for office. When we first meet Boston's dad, Nick is working on his campaign flyer, which reads among other slogans, "Give me a chance to improve." (Thanks to @thaisongsengsub for the translation). Boston enters the scene wearing a graphic tee that says 1998. In 1998, the Thai Rak Thai party was founded in Thailand by Thaksin Shinawatra, who would become the first democratically elected prime minister of Thailand to serve a full term in 2001. According to the Guardian article where much of my info's coming from, he "introduced a universal healthcare scheme, village funds to stimulate growth, as well as policies to boost entrepreneurship and help the country recover from the Asian financial crisis. He also presided over the repayment of the debt Thailand owed to the IMF ahead of schedule."

In 2006 Thaksin Shinawatra was deposed by a military coup and his party was outlawed. Only Friends spoiler alert: Just as Boston lives in exile from his friend group and from Thailand by the series' end, Shinawatra would live in self-imposed exile beginning in 2008 and lasting fifteen years to avoid legal charges. Interestingly the former prime minister returned for the first time the same month that Only Friends premiered, August of 2023 (upon his return he was promptly put into custody).

A new incarnation of this populist neoliberal party formed after the dissolution of Thai Rak Thai, the People's Power Party, followed by Pheu Thai Party when the PPP was dissolved. Shinawatra's younger sister, Yingluck Sinawatra, would take on leadership of the party and become the Thailands first female prime minister from 2011-2014, when her tenure was also ended by the courts and a military coup from which she fled to exile. The party is currently being run by Shinawatra's daughter, Paetongtarn Shinawatra.

The Move Forward Party, a more progressive Thai party, that was dissolved by the courts yesterday had previously been part of a coalition in Parliament with the Pheu Thai Party but decided to not vote for its candidate for Prime Minister after the PTP decided to include more conservative parties that supported the military junta in its coalition also in August of 2023 (you know, the period Only Friends was being written), as reported by Bangkok Post. All this is to say that there were a lot of politics in Thailand happening around the time of Only Friends.

For those willing to observe Jane Austen's "fine brush strokes" that she uses to offer portraits of romance, you'll find observations that would've otherwise been censored on slavery, the military, estate law, and most obviously, marriage law and female citizenship. Thai BL series don't have to be as explicit as Not Me to comment on political affairs. In fact, because of the political situation some of their commentaries require a deft touch like the one we see in Only Friends. I don't want to say exactly how I think Only Friends interprets the political situation it hints at here. Hopefully you can at least see that this idea of improvement, inclusion, and exile is as tied to the concept of friendship on Only Friends as it is to Thai politics. I only want to recommend that you watch for how QLs address class, political actors, geopolitics, and condemnation more broadly because to my eyes, they are doing some of the most subtle but radical commentary happening in any contemporary media, which I won't say makes them better or worse, but goddamn does it make them interesting.

[lotr-bitches]

Silm Epistolary Week, Entry #3: A set of letters (Family/Loyalty)

A set of letters between Finwë and Ñolofinwë during the Exile to Formenos (Y.T. 1486).

My dear son, Ñolofinwë,

I do, in truth, desire to return to Tirion. There is, of course, my work there that I miss, but most of all, I miss you and your siblings, yonya. However, there is something to be said for standing by your elder brother. I vehemently disagree with the manner in which the weregild was conducted, as you yourself agreed.

In this matter, I must show solidarity with Fëanáro. The Valar as a governing body have overstepped my authority. I, alone, have jurisdiction over the Noldor. The Valar are simply meant to be our shepherds, guiding us along Eru's path. In this matter of the weregild for your brother's slight against you, I must display my rejection of their ruling.

I know it seems that I am choosing him over all of you, and over your mother. It seems that I am picking favorites, as you say. I wish to clarify this matter. I have not traveled to Formenos and gone into self-imposed exile because I love Fëanáro more; I have gone because there was a slight against my own honor and my own authority. Yonya, yourself and your sisters and brother are the dearest treasures of my heart. I do hope that you were aware of that already, but in the case that you were not: you are so very loved. I will never choose one of my children over any other.

I am certain that you are conducting yourself wonderfully in my place. You have always had such a talent with the people. Is the infrastructure initiative regarding the roads in the eastern most district still going forward? I should like to hear news of it! If you necessitate any assistance, I am at your disposal.

I love you very much. Say hello to your siblings and your mother for me.

Love,

Atar

Atto,

I am doing alright, but I miss you terribly.

As far as the infrastructure initiative, it is, in fact, going forward. It has passed through the inner council with little issue. As such, the pavers have been dispatched and the work will begin tomorrow. I am attending the first hour to supervise.

As far as the remaining content in your previous letter, I understand. I was angry at first. The weight of the responsibilities of acting in your place was heavy and I was unsure if I would be up to the task. I felt betrayed as well. Throughout my childhood, I always felt that Fëanáro had more time with you, and that meant that you loved him more. In this way, I felt that you had chosen him over the rest of us; that we were simply not as important.

I understand your motivations now. I, too, was unhappy with the way the weregild was conducted. The Valar should not have usurped your authority. Additionally, I wished to take the incident as cause to attempt to mend things with Náro; instead, I fear he will now believe that I have done exactly as he feared I would do and usurped his place as heir. Could you reassure him that I am simply doing as you asked? I can imagine his consternation at the whole ordeal.

I would like to send Náro a letter in the hopes that he will deign to read it. As much as he dislikes me (read: hates), I hope that we can find some common ground as we grow older. Will you ensure that he, at the very least, reads it?

How is life in Formenos? Is it as idyllic and peaceful as you hoped?

Send my love to Nerdanel and my nephews. I love you.

Love,

Ñolofinwë

Note From the Compiler: This is a different look at the motivations behind High King Finwë's move to Formenos. The weregild was an active part of Noldorin and Vanyarin society in Aman (it was not practiced by the Teleri). The weregild is typically a monetary recompense although it can take the form of service to the community or service in the household of the person offended or hurt by the actions of the perpetrator. The Noldor did not practice 'death for death' as part of the weregild as at this time, there was no such thing as murder. 'Death for death' was introduced by Turgon in Gondolin with the execution of Ëol following Lady Aredhel's unjust murder.

[dailydemonspotlight]

Ame-No-Uzume - Day 4

Race: Megami

Alignment: Light-Law

March 23rd, 2024

Today's demon of the day is the heavenly dancer, the great persuader, and Shinto kami of the arts, Ame-no-Uzume-no-Mikoto. Famous for her sensuality and love, Ame-no-Uzume is a still-worshipped and beloved figure in Japan, as well as one with a very famous myth attached- one in which she may have saved the very world.

Ame-no-Uzume serves (haha get it) as the goddess of dawn, meditation, revelry, and the arts, particularly dance. Her signature dance is that of the Kagura, a dance ritually performed to bring a shaman closer to the gods. Once strictly ritual, this dance consists of two stages, one of slow elegance that slowly transforms as the dancer becomes possessed by the kami, changing into an energetic yet unconscious trance.

This dance actually comes into play in the most famous myth involving Ame-no-Uzume, the one in which she drew the sun out of hiding. Amaterasu, goddess of the sun, had gotten into a conflict with her brother, Susano'o, which soon reached a breaking point that led to a self-imposed exile. Susano'o, likely as a result of being the god of storms, destroyed her rice fields, killed one of her star maidens, and ended up throwing a flayed horse at her loom in a fit of rage, something which only inspired spite in Amaterasu in return.

Ashamed and angry, Amaterasu went into hiding, concealing herself within the Heavenly Rock Cave called Amano-Iwato. Without the light of the sun, the world went dark, crops began to die out, and many people lost their lives due to suffering elicited by the suddenly eternal night. Desperate for a solution, the other Shinto kami tried several plans to draw Amaterasu out, though none seemed to work... until the fledgling kami of dance made herself known.

Ame-no-Uzume devised a plan- she would draw Amaterasu out with, I kid you not, what was effectively a striptease. After kicking over a tub of water she began to break out into the Kagura dance, all the while beginning to strip. The scene caused the kami present to burst out in laughter, causing Amaterasu to finally peer out and see what the commotion was about. No, the fact that she came out of her cave to see another woman naked is not lost on me.

All this goes to say is that Ame-no-Uzume, in spite of being one of the less mentioned deities in Shinto folklore, is one of the most prominent- as the patron of the arts, she is frequently looked up to and worshipped by the people of Japan.

In Shin Megami Tensei, Ame-no-Uzume is a powerful support/magic focused demon with an immunity to and affinity towards wind attacks, likely representing the Kagura dance and its elegant movement like wind. Design wise, she appears mostly as a dancer, with the fans wielded by her typically used in Japanese theatre and dance and likely used to channel wind as well. I like to picture her using attacks in much the same way Kalluto Zoldyck from Hunter X Hunter uses them, channeling the wind through specific dances and movements of her fans.

All in all, Ame-no-Uzume is a fantastically designed demon originating from a fascinating bit of Japanese mythology, and one of my favorites in the series. The Goddess of Lesbians gets an A+ in my book.

[ark081]

Briefly returning from self-imposed exile to say that Jade Shadows emotionally obliterated me and it was a quest I enjoyed.

[camille-bee]

Ep 1 we see viserys constantly defend daemon from the council and have his back until the heir for a day rumor. And daemon calling viserys weak and being upset because his own brother didn't trust him enough to name him his hand and then being exiled.

Ep 2 daemon stealing baelons dragon egg because he wants viserys attention and viserys was about to give him that attention until otto had to intervene. And then later in the ep daemon saying "he never knew how to be king" to corlys. And then corly egging daemon to fight the war on these stepstones and implying how weak viserys is as king but daemon having none of that shit even though daemon himself agrees.

Ep 3 as soon as viserys offers his help on the war daemon basically rejects the offer by going on a suicide mission and deciding to end the war on his terms.

Ep 4 daemon returns to kings landing, bows to his brother and they share a nice moment in the throne room and the garden. Later on, Daemon tells him that "he is king, his word should be law" and viserys calls him "a plague" and exiles him again.

Ep 5 even though he is exiled damon returns to kings landing and viserys let's him. Because at the end of the day they are still brothers.

Ep 6 daemon misses his family. And he is on a self imposed exile.

Ep 7 how the tables have turned. Viserys offers daemon a seat back on the council. He is the first to approach daemon. He is the first to offer a lifeline on their brotherhood. Daemon rejects him, almost cruelly. But he is acting from a place of hurt.

And then ep 8. Throughout the ep we see how daemon is constantly looking away from his brother, he can't stand to see him in such a fragile and weak state. When him and rhaenyra are in his bed chamber daemon goes straight to business because he doesn't want to acknowledge that viserys is nearing the end of his life. Viserys recognizing daemon and the relief and happiness when he sees him. Daemon fiercely protects his brother when alicent arrives making remarks on how she is "helping him". And then the throne scene... omg daemon helping his brother up, picking his crown up, both brothers walking side by side and viserys actually letting daemon help him. Once viserys realized it was daemon trying to help him, the way his body sags in relief.

Daemon putting the crown on viserys head... this is all daemon wanted. To be by his brothers side and help him. And I think for the first time daemon respects viserys as king.

I cannot believe the best scene for me in the show was improvised by matt and paddy 😭

[faggotfungus]

I momentarily return from my self imposed exile to say,

Hey, look at this dude I caught.

[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page  

Now and Then

 - Chapter 9-

Choices, The Royal Romance, AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who belongs to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M🔞Warnings - Series will contain crude language, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 2498

Now and Then – 9 

Chapter Summary: Riley and William arrive in Cordonia 

Title & Music Inspiration: 

Now and Then, The Beatles                                       

When You Love Someone, Gretchen Peters, Bryan Adams 

Wherever You Will Go, The Calling 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: My submission for @choicesflashfics, Week#67, prompt #1 - “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.” 

A/N3: My submission for @choicesjanuary2024, prompt Day 25 - ‘Remembrance’ #choices monthly challenge @lilyoffandoms #choicesjanuary2024 

A/N4: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. 

In Flight, Cordonian Royal Jet, above the Mediterranean Sea 

Looking out over the vast expanse of water below her, and under the clear blue skies above the Mediterranean Sea, no clouds were in sight ... not a white cloud, nor a black cloud. 

Riley gazed out the large passenger window of the private jet, in solace, with her memories. Everything felt calm; almost too calm. The flight from New York to Cordonia was eight hours in duration, and even though they left early in the morning, they would not arrive at the palace until late in the evening with the change in time zones. 

Trying to and not getting any rest, her thoughts returned to the events over the holidays.

...Remembering when Liam arrived at her door, in New York on Christmas Eve, a short week ago. The expression of elation on his face as she opened the door for him... 

[‘Hello, my love,’ he tenderly smiled; He was standing there with an exquisite bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, as uniformed delivery drivers from the toy store waited patiently at a distance behind him, as the Royal guard performed a security check. 

Liam stepped over the threshold, leaning down to draw her in for a kiss on the cheek, as she accepted his gift. ‘Oh Li, these are gorgeous; thank you so much.’ 

At Bastien’s prompt, the delivery people entered the brownstone with prewrapped gifts and placed them under the Christmas tree, also filling the extra space in the living room very quickly. 

Chuckling, Riley watched as Liam thanked them with a generous tip, as he closed the door after them. 

“Our son will be so thrilled at what Santa brought him; wait till he wakes up tomorrow.”  

Liam laughed, moving quickly to put his arm around her, pulling her to his side. “Who says all these gifts are just for him? Hmmm?” Riley turned her head towards him, as Liam bent to capture her lips in a passion-fueled kiss. 

“Ah yes, your gift is right here.” Liam slipped his hand inside his coat to reveal a small box, wrapped in gold with a red ribbon. “This is for you.”} 

Riley breathed out, shaking her head. 

...Remembering wanting him so badly that evening ...as he kissed her forehead to say ‘good night’ before turning to the guest room; Leaving her feeling so confused, once again. 

...Remembering how excited LiLi was when he saw his father again Christmas morning ... and the look of pure joy in Liam’s expression as he watched his son blissfully playing with his new toys. 

...Remembering the look of adoration between Liam and his son; a private and sacred bond established between the two ... a bond only meant for them. 

Riley looked down at her phone and smiled fondly at the picture of William. He was proudly standing beside his gingerbread house gift for Liam, alongside Daniel and Matteo, to smile at the camera. Riley marveled at how unequivocally her son loved his father, so quickly. As if two loose puzzle pieces finally clicked into place. There was never a doubt in her mind that William needed to be wherever his father was. The connection between father and son was undeniable. 

...and with those thoughts, she agreed to return to Cordonia.  

And now, she found herself on the Royal jet headed back, leaving behind her New York world for the place that shattered her ‘happily ever after,’ again. 

Liam, being the new, ever-doting father was pointing out to his son the shores of Cordonia through the window. She saw the look of marvel in Liam’s eyes, as he watched his son’s reaction to seeing Cordonia for the very first time. They were sitting in seats across the aisle from her as she glanced over. 

Catching Riley’s eye, Liam responded with a wink and a smile. 

"Welcome home, love." 

Riley smiled in return, as her heart skipped a beat. 

Home... 

It had been a while since she had felt this way about Cordonia. Another lifetime; so much has changed, and yet remained the same. 

***

Damien Nazario, the Interpol agent who was now permanently assigned to be William Rys's personal bodyguard, was reviewing the Crown prince's dossier, and his duties to the Cordonian crown, his new employer. Bastien took a seat beside the young agent to answer any questions he may have, as head of the Royal guard, at the rear of the plane's cabin. 

"So, Damien, any questions for me?" 

"No, sir. I believe I have a handle on the situation.” 

"Good, because you are now the official head of the security detail for Prince William, the future king of Cordonia." 

"Understood, sir.” Damien was well aware of the complexity of a constitutional monarchy. 

"Now, there's one more thing I need to discuss with you,” Bastien eyed the young agent. 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Madeleine Amaranth, the former queen of Cordonia. I have forwarded her updated dossier to you." 

"Yes, I've read it through.” Damien paused, waiting for more information. 

"Good, because she has expressed malicious intent towards Prince William and Lady Riley, should they return to Cordonia." 

"Understood. I'll ensure her movements are tracked and reported inside and out of the country, sir." 

"Thank you, Damien.” 

"My pleasure, sir.” 

Bastien, looking pleased, leaned back in his chair, checking the time on his watch, as he felt the plane begin its descent. 

Cordonia, Capital 

The jet touched down smoothly on the tarmac, as the engines powered down. The cabin door opened, and the stairs were lowered. 

Riley could feel the warm breeze blow past her as she stepped off the plane. 

Taking a deep breath, Riley looked around. The air was different here. It was fresh and clean. She closed her eyes and let the wind brush her cheeks. 

Liam followed, with William sleeping in his arms.  

"Is everything alright, love?" Liam’s brows were raised in concern, noticing her hesitation. 

"Yes, I'm just taking it all in." Riley, looked down, unable to keep eye contact. 

"Are you sure, Riley? You've been very quiet throughout the entire flight home." 

"I'm fine, Liam. It is just a lot to process. I'm just a little overwhelmed." 

"All right, I understand. Let us get to the palace, so you and William can get settled and rest ... okay?" 

"Yes, thank you, Liam." 

Liam glanced over at Riley with concern as he personally buckled his son into the car seat. It was quite easy for him to see and feel the apprehension in her mood. She could not hide her emotions from him as well as she always thought she could.

Riley had remained noticeably quiet during the ride to the palace as well, looking out at the passing countryside. Liam could not help but wonder if she was having second thoughts about returning to Cordonia, and/or to him. 

As they pulled up to the palace gates, Liam looked over at Riley, noticing a small smile on her face. 

"What is it, love?" Liam spoke softly, reaching for her hand. 

Riley returned his touch with a squeeze. "This place...it's beautiful." 

"Thank you, that, it is. Welcome home." 

“William will be so excited when he wakes up.” Riley glanced at a still sleeping William as the SUV slowed to a stop. 

"I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me.... to have you both here." Liam confessed. 

"You're welcome, Liam. It's the least I can do."  

Liam's heart sank at her words. He hated the distance between them. He wanted to take her in his arms and make everything right, but, for right now, he knew that was not the best strategy. 

He had to accept that things had changed, and their relationship was different now. He had to be patient and give Riley the space she needed. 

But he also had to make her see how important she was to him. He had to show her how much he had missed her ... that he wanted a future with her and William in Cordonia. 

As the SUV door opened for her, Riley felt a sense of Deja vu. This was where she had started her journey with Liam in Cordonia all those years ago. And now, here she was, back again. 

"Do you want me to take you and William to the guest wing, or do you want to stay in my chambers?" 

"I would like to stay with you, if that's okay." 

"Of course, Riley. I would love that." 

It was surreal for Riley as she walked the pristine palace halls towards the Royal Chambers. Liam carried William, who was fast asleep in his arms beside her. 

 The memories of the past times she was here flooded her mind and her heart ached as she pushed the painful memories aside. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. 

As they reached the large double doors of the entrance to the Royal east wing, the guards opened the doors for Liam and Riley to enter. 

Riley stepped inside; the same chambers where she had spent so much time before. The familiar scent of Liam's cologne filled the air, sending a wave of longing for a past time through her mind. 

Walking into her room ... it was exactly as she remembered it. Everything was in its place, from the elegant chandelier hanging above the bed, to the intricate paintings adorning the walls. 

Riley took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked around the room, taking in every detail. 

 She felt a pang of sadness as she remembered those past times. 

After tucking William into his bed in the adjacent room, Liam came in and sat down next to her. He gently placed his hand on hers, and she looked up at him, their eyes meeting. 

"What are you thinking about Riley?"  

"I'm okay, Liam. I was just thinking about how much things have changed since I was here last." 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. "I know it's a lot, but I'm here for you, and I'll help you in any way I can," Liam whispered. 

"Thank you, Liam." 

He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands, staring into her eyes intently. "You're welcome, Riley. Always. Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.” 

He moved in to press his lips to hers, and she melted into his kiss. 

It was soft and gentle, and full of longing. 

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. "God, Riley, I've missed you." 

"I've missed you, Li." 

He leaned down and kissed her again, deeper this time. 

His tongue swept across her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to him. 

Their tongues tangled together in a dance that was familiar and yet new. 

They were no longer the same people they were when they had last been together. They were both older and wiser, and the passion between them burned even brighter. 

Riley pulled away and put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm. 

"Liam, I..." 

"Shhh." 

He placed a finger over her lips. "Don't say anything, Riley. Just feel." 

His lips found hers again, and the world disappeared. There was nothing but the two of them, lost in each other. 

She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

She moaned into his mouth as he slid his hands down her back and pulled her closer. 

He broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. 

"Riley," he breathed. "God, I want you so much."

“Liam, I ...” 

Liam pulled back and looked into her eyes, “stay with me tonight.” 

📌All fics & edits: @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234

📌Liam x Riley, OC: @emersyn-in-cordonia @mainstreetreader @belencha77 @walkerdrakewalker @iluaaa @mysticalfangirl @queenwalton @bascmve01 @umccall71 @choicesfrog @amandablink @ownworldresident

📌Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics @choicesjanuary2024

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #75: Rhaegar Wins, but make it Le Morte d'Arthur

Having done two takes on what can roughly be called Lancelot-Guinevere AUs where things end more or less well for our heroes, I thought: why not go all out? why not have the affair be the downfall of the Targaryen Dynasty?

Or: What if Jon Snow, the infamous bastard son of King Rhaegar, had an affair with his aunt, Princess Daenerys?

Aka: The Duncan the Damned Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon until the Battle of the Trident, during which Prince Rhaegar slays Robert Baratheon in single combat, ending the rebellion. He leads his forces and those of the rebels who submit to him against his father in King's Landing - and is forced to kill the Mad King when he calls for the wildfire caches to be lit. Although everyone agrees he did the right thing, he's forever known as Rhaegar the Kinslayer and many whisper his line is cursed.

Ned Stark is severely injured trying to rescue Robert at the Trident and as such is unable to retrieve Lyanna from the Tower of Joy. Rhaegar sends Prince Lewyn instead...

...who returns with his three brothers-in-arms, a baby boy, and the bones of the King's paramour. It's hard to say which of the latter the King is most angry about. In the end he orders a great mausoleum built over the Dragonpit to house Lyanna's bones and leaves the raising of the bastard to his mother.

Dowager Queen Rhaella is thrilled to have another child to raise, regardless of how the babe came about. (She's less thrilled her son is so disinterested in the boy that it falls to her to name the child over half-a-year after his birth; she calls him Duncan, after her favorite uncle.) She raises Dany and Duncan together until Dany is old enough to be brought to court... and Duncan stays in more or less exile with his grandmother in the shadow of Summerhall as builders work to return he castle to its former glory.

Duncan is raised to knighthood by Oswell Whent, Rhaella's protector and lover during her self-imposed exile. While he does the job as well any could hope, he teaches young Duncan that getting the job done is more important than how you do it - in short, that gallantry is all well and good, but it's better to be dishonorable and alive than dead with a song.

And so the bastard prince who visits at the Red Keep for the first time in 298 has more in line with The Rogue Prince than any of his Stark forbearers. He's dashing, daring, and dangerous - the exact opposite of his half-brother Aegon, who is gallant and chivalrous and brave, but decidedly lacking the bad boy aura.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar hasn't given up on his prophesy. Deciding that his sister Daenerys must be the third head of the dragon, he arranges for Aegon to wed both his sister Rhaenys and aunt Daenerys, which causes many a discontent murmur.

Having been spoon-fed prophesy since birth, Aegon goes willingly along with his father's plan, but Rhaenys is less eager to be one of a pair of sister-queens and Dany...

...well, Dany takes one look at her bastard nephew, so different from his brother, and fancies herself in love.

Duncan for his part is more than a little peeved that his goodie-two-shoes half-brother gets all their father's attention and two royal wives. He choses to pursue Dany as much to get one over on the family that ignored him as any lust he may feel.

Dany and Duncan carry on an affair that is as much passion as it is destruction. It is deeply unhealthy for everyone involved and hits every unhealthy relationship milestone, from Duncan flirting with Rhaenys to make Dany jealous to Dany poisoning herself to get Duncan's attention back and blaming her rivals.

This manages to go on for about five years without anyone too important finding out - though Rhaenys suspects and at least one member of the court attempted to blackmail Duncan over it before succumbing to an accident - when several things happen all at once:

Dany and Rhaenys announce they're finally pregnant within several weeks of each other. Rhaenys gives birth first, to a pair of stillborn abominations with wings. Dany gives birth a short time later to a child that has such Stark looks its impossible to deny his parentage.

An argument breaks out between Aegon, Rhaegar, and Duncan which quickly grows heated. At the end of it Rhaegar lies dead, with no one quite sure whether Aegon or Duncan had landed the fatal blow. The brothers point fingers at each other and order the other jailed for kingslaying.

Things very quickly break down into civil war as both brothers vie for the crown. Duncan manages to hold King's Landing, but Aegon has Dragonstone and superiority of numbers. Even so, Duncan is ruthless and cunning enough that he just might be able to pull off a victory-

-or would have, if Dany didn't start working at cross purposes to him, their relationship very quickly falling apart without the danger and excitement to hold them together. Dany ends up betraying King's Landing to Aegon's forces during a siege, fully expecting to be reinstated as Aegon's second queen after the war ends. Duncan is killed in the fighting and Dany is executed for treason and adultery. Their son, Daeron, is kept as a hostage until he's old enough to be sent to the Wall.

Aegon manages to hold onto the throne for the rest of his life, but he's faced with more outbreaks of rebellion as people finally rebel against House Targaryen, their wars, and the taxes they've leveed to pay for those wars. What's more, Rhaenys never manages to give birth to a living child (some claiming poison, others claiming inbreeding), so that his only heir is his bastard nephew - who quite simply vanishes from the record before his tenth birthday. (Many historians believe he was killed, but there is a strong King Under the Mountain mythology that grows up around him.)

House Targaryen eventually collapses - not with a bang, but a whimper - when Aegon dies in his mid-30s after choking on a fishbone. Rhaenys tries to hold the throne in her own right, but years of fruitless childbirths has wreaked her health and she's very quickly captured, imprisoned, and quietly killed. The Seven Kingdoms eventually devolve into seven separate kingdoms, not to be reunited for another five hundred years.

Bonuses include: 1) Something fatalistic running throughout the narrative, with Rhaegar planning his whole life for an apocalypse that doesn't come - and allowing everything his house built to come to ruin; 2) The full gambit of toxic relationships, including but not limited to: Rhaegar treating Aegon from a young age as a hero in waiting who can do no wrong, Rhaegar treating Duncan as irrelevant to the plot for not being born a girl, and Dany and Duncan's deeply unhealthy romance; and 3) There being a moment after Aegon captures King's Landing where it's possible for Duncan to escape with his son and live to fight another day and in that same moment realizing Dany betrayed him... and rather than choosing to escape, is killed trying to get back into the Red Keep to kill the mother of his child.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Black Prince | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Duncan the Damned | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon the Fair | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Lord Protector | Maekar the Maester | People's Queen | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Queen of Nightingales | Red Queen | Rhaegar the Righteous | River Queen | Shiera Snowbird | Visneya the Victorious | Weirwood Queen | Wolf Queen

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[integra1127grimmreaper]

His Warrior Princess - Part five

Series Masterlist

Part 4

It was the third year after your mother's passing and your departure from Kings Landing, the day you had fled to Dragonstone and never turned back. That day you had sore to yourself to never step foot in Kings Landing ever again, and yet here you were flying on the back of Vhagar to make your return back to that cursed place.

Your reasons for doing so, your other half, your twin sister.

Rhaenyra and you kept in constant touch with one another through letters and she would fly to Dragonstone whenever she needed the comfort of her twin. During the start of your self-imposed exile, Rhaenyra had begged for your return; claiming that you both needed each other more than ever after your loss, yet you could not bring yourself to doing so. The image of your mother's lifeless corpse, lying in a pool of her own blood still too fresh in your mind.

Eventually she had accepted your reasoning and spoke no more of it thereafter. But as the years went by, your sister had become lonelier each day. With Daemon having been banished and Alicent ending up married to your father, your sister was left alone to drift in the dark waters known as the court of Kings Landing and felt as if she was slowly drowning.

You had mourned long enough for your mother and brother, now it was time to return to Kings Landing to be by your sister's side, to fight any and all that stood against her claim as heir to the Iron Throne. And what better time to choose to do so than at the second nameday celebration of your half-brother.

You could have made your arrival a day earlier, but where was the fun in that... and what better way to make a grand entrance than landing in a nearby clearing of the Kingswood upon the back of Vhagar.

Those standing outside the encampment watched in confusion as the Princess Rhaenyra stormed out of the royal pavilion, swiftly mounting her horse and fleeing the area in a fit of rage, her sworn shield; Ser Criston Cole, hot on the heels after her.

Just as all believed the drama to be over for the day, they were in for another surprise as the loud screeching of a dragon was heard coming from a distance, before they knew it; the entire encampment was overshadowed in darkness as the large form of the Queen of All Dragons, Vhagar, flew over them.

"Is that...?" Ser Harwin Strong speaks out loudly to his brother as they stared up at the sky following the dragon's movement after having heard the disturbance.

"The Disaster..." Larys answers with a head nod.

"I thought it was named, Vhagar?" Harwin looks to his brother in confusion.

"My apologies... I thought you were speaking of the Princess" Larys chuckles out.

"Princess...?" Harwin asks as they watched three guards, along with a fourth horse rush off toward the area that the dragon had landed.

"The Princess Visenya..." Larys responds, "she is the rider of Vhagar."

"The King's younger daughter?"

"And twin to Princess Rhaenyra" Larys replies with a head nod.

"I remember her vaguely when she was little..." Harwin remarks deep in thought. "She was the stout one between the two?"

"My guess is that you have not seen her of late then..." Larys chuckles.

"Not really" Harwin frowns, "why do you ask?"

"She is now known as the Rebel Princess. She was trained by her uncle, Prince Daemon, in the art of combat and swordplay like any other knight. She would even be out at night with the City Watch when Daemon was still Commander."

"A Princess being part of the City Watch...?" Harwin looks at his brother in surprise.

"Aye..." Larys nods smirking. "They refer to her as the strongest woman in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Strongest woman, huh..." Harwin softly remarks deep in thought.

"Not only that, but they also say that she has grown to be quite a beauty. That stoutness has grown into womanly curves, some would say that she is even more beautiful than her twin. Men have lusted after her since she was at the age of five-and-ten."

"Mmm..." was Harwin's only response as he stared off into the distance that Vhagar had landed.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Dear Brother..." Larys snickers, "but it does seem as if you have become enamoured with the Princess already..."

Before Harwin could utter a retort, the sound of riders could be heard nearing the encampment.

The riders came to a holt within the encampment, the three guards that had left, and a fourth dressed in black armour and helm. It was clear that the fourth rider was a woman, the armour being tight fitted on her body, visibly showing all her womanly curves.

Harwin watched in silent fascination as she dismounted without any assistance, wild silver-gold curls bouncing about when she removed the helm.

"She is..." Harwin stammers almost trance like.

"Beautiful" Larys finishes the sentence for him and Harwin silently nods in response.

"Seems as if you are not the only one whom has the Princess in your site."

Harwin looks to his brother with furrow brows, and Larys points with a tilt of his head toward Jason Lannister, who was staring lustfully at the Princess.

"Mere minutes ago, he was trailing like a dog with a bone after the Princess Rhaenyra and now he has his eyes set on the Princess Visenya..."

Jaw clenched tightly, Harwin could feel the anger in himself slowly rising up as he watched Jason Lannister following the Princess's every move with his calculating stare.

Part 6

Tag:  @missusnora​​  @alexandra-001​ @green-lxght

[triviareads]

Tastes Like shakkar sounds so good! What are your top 5 books with brown or desi characters?

I enjoyed Tastes Like Shakkar a lot more than I was expecting, and have relentlessly been shilling it ever since. It's such a solid romance, the sex was good, a lot of the desi family stuff (the concept of being a "family manager") really hit, but it never took away from the main romance. Also, it's always nice to feel "seen" in the books you read even though it's pretty rare for me, but since this was specifically about Indian-Americans in the NY-NJ area, I really felt that.

Here are books with desi rep apart from Tastes Like Shakkar that are in my top 5:

Wrong to Need You by Alisha Rai: I debated putting my other fave by Alisha, Serving Pleasure, on here but Wrong to Need You portrayed a less-troubled desi family dynamic than Serving Pleasure so I'm picking this. Sadia is a widowed single mom grappling with her attraction to her brother-in-law, Jackson who's just returned after a self-imposed exile related to a mysterious fire. The restrained tension between these two is so hot (ok maybe not entirely restrained; she doesn't recognize him when he first returns and nearly has sex with him lol). Also, Sadia, like Jiya below, subverts the passive Asian woman trope on multiple levels, and based on the dynamic between her and Jackson.

I also liked how Sadia's large, close-knit Pakistani-American family was portrayed; they may not see eye-to-eye all the time, but they love one another and are willing to learn and compromise.

Take a Hint, Dani Brown by Talia Hibbert: Zafir Ansari is truly a prince among men; him and Dani go viral for his rescue of her, and they start fake dating so his football charity can get some positive attention and donations. I like how Zafir was the romantic one among the two of them (and is a Bollywood romance fan, predictably), and is also great in the sack so... a winner, basically.

Also, Talia wrote this lovely exploration of grief (Zafir lost his dad and brother) and this really sweet relationship between Zafir and his SIL, and his family as a whole which I appreciated.

Sink or Swim by Tessa Bailey: I know Tessa has gotten a lot of flak for her portrayal of Latinx characters (which, deserved imo), and she's otherwise by and large stuck to writing white characters, but I can't deny she did pretty damn good job of writing Jiya and her family, who are desi, in this book. Here are my full thoughts on this.

The Roommate Risk by Talia Hibbert: Friends to lovers AND probably one of the only unrequited love books I'll ever recommend only because I love Jasmine so much (even while she's STRUGGLING to figure out that yes, Rahul has had feelings for her ever since she deflowered him on the... I wanna say library floor), and Rahul Khan is adorable and a stern, stern man who can absolutely get it. Similar to Zafir above, Rahul's dad also dies during the book (there's a lot of flashbacks) and Talia portrayed Muslim funeral customs and just the general family dynamics thoughtfully and in such an emotional way.

Hard Way by Katie Porter: lol my problematic fave because there are a few things that are just so weird in terms of rep: For one, the author keeps putting Sunita, the heroine, in "indian inspired" clothes, for example, some kind vaguely described professional suit inspired by a saree? Like, this woman is an attorney who works for a United States congressman. She's probably wearing a regular-ass suit like the rest of the people in that office. Also, her nickname in law school was the "Ice Queen of Bangalore" which was meant to be microaggressive, but the nickname literally makes 0 sense to me since she was raised in AMERICA, and considering half the Indians I know can't make the connection between being Kannadiga and possibly being from Bangalore, the capital of Karnataka, what are the chances these white mfs can, right? And the weird thing is, she narratively sort of "reclaims" her nickname, but it was such a cringe one to begin with and I don't even know why the authors bothered to put it in in the first place.

BUT Sunita is the only Kannadiga heroine I've ever read (I am. kannadiga, to clarify), she's a martial artist, she's struggling to work out her marriage with her husband (I'm a sucker for that shit), she's good with being kidnapped and zip-tied straight from the grocery store by her husband because it's a mutual fantasy, and she attends yakshagana performances (also very personal to me and my family)! Do you know how rare it is to see any of these things as far as brown heroines go? Maybe I have a lower bar for South Asian rep because there are so few romances that have South Asians who don't hate themselves/the culture AND have good sex scenes, but hopefully that will change as time goes on.

[aebi12]

Sinful Desires - Chapter 7 

Her exile is self-imposed. Though exile probably isn't the right word to describe her decision to avoid her mother and stepfather.

Alyssa spends the days following her fight with Rhaenyra between her bedroom and her younger brothers' playroom. Little Aegon and Viserys are so demanding and dependent that provides a welcome distraction that helps her not to think too much about what is to come in her life.

The idea of marrying her still stands, she knows that well, although fortunately her mother seems to have given up on her taking classes with the septa again. At least no one has yet come looking for her. No. There is only silence from Rhaenyra’s side. And Alyssa knows that her mother is probably feeling repented for treating her that way, but that doesn't make her bitterness toward her lessen.

That's why she forces herself to think about something else. Anything else but him. The memories of him and their night together are becoming more painful with each day. Remembering what they experienced only increases the nostalgia she feels for a future that she will not be able to have, and repeating in her mind each of his caresses only feeds a vain illusion.

So, Alyssa avoids thinking about Aemond. And about whatever it is she feels for him.

"Another crow came last night for Master Gerardys"

She looks up from the book she is reading and meets Luke's green eyes. She knows what his words mean. News about her suitors.

"Do you know where it came from?" She can't help but ask. The lack of news about the candidates selected by her mother keeps her in a perpetual state of anxiety. Half of her mind wants to know who they are, and the other half of her is terrified at the thought of having to marry one of these strangers. Her brother shakes his head and she sighs, "I guess I'll find out soon enough."

Alyssa returns her gaze to her book, though her thoughts fly far away, like the crows the maester had sent.

"I wish there was something I could do." It's Luke's turn to sigh.

She doesn't respond as Jace suddenly enters the room.

"Mother requests that we meet her at the stone table" he tells them panting. Apparently, he had been training because his hair looks messy and his face is flushed.

“I'll see you guys after dinner,” Alyssa replies.

"You must also join us"

"What?" she gasps, closing the book, “Mother ask for me too?”

Jace seems to want to say something but he ends up closing his mouth and looking at her with a pained expression. Alyssa instantly understands. She is being summoned because her mother has probably already chosen a husband for her.

"Very well, then," she replies, nodding as she stands up and straightens the folds of her gold dress, "Let’s go”

Alyssa doesn't wait for her brothers but rather walks towards the room with the stone table with firm strides while her mind repeats encouraging phrases.

This will all be over soon, she thinks to herself as the guards at the gate part to let her through. Keep calm and be the dutiful daughter you've always been. You can do it.

Alyssa is surprised to find the room much more crowded than she expected. The maester, her mother's three lord counselors, her cousins, and her stepfather are all there. Rhaenyra stands at the end of the table near the fireplace, offering her a soft smile as she sees her approach.

"You sent for me," she greets as her eyes drift to the open letters on the side of the table.

Her siblings enter the room, and Rhaenyra clears her throat.

“I believe that everyone in this room knows my intention to marry off my daughter as soon as possible,” she says, “The marriage of a princess is not something to be taken lightly and I know Alyssa understands this as well as I do.”

She rests her eyes on her mother's. There is no resentment in them, hardness yes, but also something that seems like... sadness. Sudden urges to yell rise up inside her. To yell, run, escape and avoid her fate. But she holds back all these urges because ultimately, she's not stupid. She knows, deep inside her, she knows that her mother's words and actions make sense, that her marriage will have to be quick to avoid possible rumors. Besides, she's already tired of this untenable situation, of having to feel defensive against her mother. And Rhaenyra seems to feel the same way because she holds her gaze and with a gesture she makes a silent request for a truce, Alyssa just nods and watches her mother sigh in relief.

"Master Gerardys was compiling a list of suitable candidates and he has just presented it to me, that's why I gathered all of you here to be able to evaluate the most suitable one"

Alyssa bites her lip at the word suitable. What exactly does that imply? Would it be the most powerful? The wealthiest? The one with land and a bigger army?

"Princess" the maester addresses her mother, "The first option to consider is house Tully"

“Surely, maester, you are joking. Lord Grover is an old man."

The claim comes from Jace. Rhaenyra silences her son with a look, and Alyssa takes her brother's hand, feeling inwardly grateful for his outrage.

“Lord Grover Tully was fervently against the idea of Rhaenys occupying the throne during the Great Council,” says her mother, “Is it wise to consider him an ally?”

“Lord Grover is an old man who no longer gets out of bed. His grandson, Elmo, is the one who assumes all of his roles and has the power and loyalty of his men. According to the maester of Riverrun, Lord Elmo does not share his grandfather's opinion about this matter."

"Yes, but Lord Elmo is a married man with no need for heirs."

"The princess's suitor would be his eldest son, Kermit" the maester looks briefly at Alyssa, "He is a young man of 19 years, brave and..."

"It would be a waste to marry Alyssa to someone we know supports Rhaenyra and will accept her future reign," Daemon cuts in to the maester, "Who's the next candidate?"

Alyssa bites down harder on her lower lip as she hears the names of the other candidates: Joffrey Arryn, Benjicot Blackwood, a young Bracken, and a Tyrell.

"The most important northern lords would be the Manderly and the Starks" says the maester

"Old King Jaehaerys meant to unite our houses," Rhaenyra nods, "But I thought Lord Manderly was married."

"His son Medrick is single, princess."

"Cregan Stark would be a better ally," says Daemon

"Lord Stark was recently widowed," the maester reports, "His son is but a babe."

Alyssa feels her mother's gaze scanning her from across the room. Her heart is pounding. The North seemed the least attractive option of all. Although she had fantasized once, as a child, about seeing this part of the continent, now the prospect of living permanently in Winterfell seemed terrifying.

“My daughter is too young to shoulder the responsibility of being a substitute mother for a baby,” says Rhaenyra. Alyssa looks up and smiles briefly at her mother. Daemon snorts next to her and her mother glares at him.

"It is known that Lord Cregan has no intention of taking a new wife," continues Gerardys, "The Master of Winterfell communicated in his letters that Lord Stark was very close to his late wife."

“Then perhaps the Manderly are an option to consider,” Rhaenyra ponders, “I’ve heard that White Harbor is a big city with many attractions. Medrick is a young man and surely my daughter and he will have topics in common”

"What about the Tully’s?" Jace asks, “The riverlands are a more strategic point of great importance to the kingdom. Also, house Tully are the Lords of the Trident, it would be more logical to unite my sister with this…”

"Kermit, my prince" says the maester

"Kermit Tully, that's it"

Her mother nods, "I'll have to think about that."

Her mother's advisors begin deliberating, her siblings join the debate, and she steps aside. Alyssa doesn't notice the moment her mother came towards her so she is surprised when she bumps into her.

"You haven't said anything during the whole meeting," Rhaenyra says quickly, "I'm sure you have some personal preference."

"Does it really matter?" she can't help but ask

Rhaenyra sighs and takes her daughter's hands in her own.

“Alyssa, I know that this is not fair. Trust me, I didn't want it to be this way, but your actions…”

“I didn't ask for any of this,” she replies, releasing her hands, “I just wanted…”

“I know what led you to do what you did”,” Rhaenyra hastens to cut her off, looking at her with pleading eyes, “But it was foolish. Especially the person you chose to be free with. Alyssa, believe me, I know you think this is the end of your life, but it's just the beginning. I am going to choose a man that I know will be able to care for and respect you, someone suitable with whom you can have whatever you think you had with my half-brother."

Her words hurt, but she just nods, even though she internally doesn't agree with them. She can't imagine experiencing with any lord what she felt with Aemond, ““I would just prefer if you didn't send me to the North. Without a dragon it would not be as easy for me to travel as it is for you and I would not bear to spend long periods of time without seeing my family”.

“I have no desire to send you that far, believe me,” her mother smiles at her, “I met Elmo Tully when my father made me go on a tour around the kingdom while trying to find me a husband.” Rhaenyra smiles wistfully, "He was quite a formal and pleasant young man, his son is surely similar to him"

A guard enters announcing that Rhaenys Targaryen and her dragon have been sighted coming down to the castle. Rhaenyra orders everyone to leave the room and she and her siblings return to the children's playroom.

"The Tully are the best choice," Jace says when they're alone.

“Alyssa Tully, that doesn't sound bad,” Luke comments with a smile.

She tosses one of her little brothers' pillows at him before sighing, "I guess Riverrun must be charming."

"The riverlands are not so far away from King's Landing." Jace sits down next to her, "We could visit you often."

"Besides, this Kermit guy won't be the lord of Riverrun for a long time so you won't have so many responsibilities so soon"

"That is true," she admits, considering the possibility, "certainly the Tully must be closer in manners to us than the Northerners."

Alyssa's vision of a possible future as the lady of Riverrun is cut short when several maids run past the door. The three siblings look at each other and all three are aware that something is not right. The news does not take long to reach them.

The death of King Viserys.

Aegon's coronation in the Dragonpit.

The greens usurping her mother's throne.

Her mother writhing in pain in her room because the labor was early.

Dragonstone turns into chaos.

Alyssa's mind is in chaos.

Half of her heart aches for her mother, whose cries of pain echo through the fortress. She wants to help her, but Rhaenyra doesn't allow anyone near, she just wanders the room, sore and feverish while her midwives can't do anything but watch her. Eventually Alyssa gives up and returns to her room, filled with anger and frustration at not being able to do anything to comfort her mother.

When she is alone, her thoughts turn to Aemond and his betrayal. Because if Aegon is king and his mother demanded that Princess Rhaenys support them, that means that Aemond also supports the betrayal committed by his family. And that hurts her and fills her with disappointment. How could they have dared to usurp her mother's throne? Weren't they aware of what their actions would cause?

Alyssa is not an innocent girl. She knows that at this very moment Daemon and her mother's lord councilors are planning the best war strategy to take King's Landing and establish Rhaenyra on the iron throne. Her heart flutters, and she has to force herself to breathe through her mouth and try to calm down at the possibility of her relatives fighting each other to the death.

Rhaenyra’s scream fills her room once again and she is unable to take it anymore so she heads towards the stone table, where she finds her stepfather.

“My mother won't stop calling you, you should go with her” she says as she walks towards him.

Daemon shoots her an irritated look and waves to the lords, who hastily leave them alone.

"My mother needs you, go with her" repeats Alyssa

“Your mother doesn't need me on her birthing bed. Rhaenyra needs the men loyal to her to start planning her war."

"I am sure she will decide the best course of action once she has had your child."

He smirks before answering, “You know Alyssa? I'm really looking forward to the chance to meet my nephews in battle. I will finally be able to take it upon myself to eliminate the consequences of the mistake my brother made by marrying that Hightower girl."

Alyssa understands the meaning of his words and a knot forms in her stomach because she doesn't doubt the veracity of her stepfather's words, “Would you dare to kill them? They are also your nephews, your own blood."

Daemon makes a dismissive gesture before shrugging, “I never considered them part of my family. They are nothing more than treacherous cockroaches and usurpers”

“Maybe you see it that way,” she says, “But I'm sure my mother won't take the idea of hurting her siblings so lightly. She will surely choose the diplomatic route to try to fix all this situation”

"If you really believe that, then you are more stupid than I thought." Daemon doesn't give her the option to answer, he summons the lords again to plan their war while her mother continues to call him.

No one else pays any attention to her and she stands to the side of the room until a maester approaches Daemon and suggests that he go see Rhaenyra. He doesn't answer, just looks at the man until Jace walks in and demands that the council end because her mother doesn't want them to act without her consent.

There is a tense exchange of glances between her stepfather and her older brother. There is also a change of attitude in Jacaerys voice and posture, in the way he faces Daemon. Alyssa is then aware that her brother is now the heir to the iron throne and that he holds higher rank than her stepfather. The man also seems to notice that fact and, for some reason, she remembers the words that Daemon just said to her about not considering Alicent's children as part of his family. Could it be that he feels the same towards them? Could it be that he would prefer young Aegon to be the next heir to the throne?

Jace follows Daemon somewhere outside the castle and Alyssa returns to her mother's room, where she finds her cradling a small lifeless bundle.

***

Visenya's funeral takes place the next morning near the cliffs. The little body of her sister is placed on the pyre and Syrax bathes her with her flames while all the attendees observe the scene in total silence.

Silence that is broken by the arrival of Ser Erryk Cargyll, who presents the crown of the late King Viserys.

Her mother is crowned queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the assistants swear allegiance to Rhaenyra by kneeling and accepting her as their rightful sovereign. Despite the sadness of the funeral, Alyssa's heart is able to feel the solemnity of the moment, and she smiles proudly as she watches her mother, who seems to have a new aura of grandeur and authority surrounding her.

Council meetings starts again. Her mother is clearly torn between the possibility of initiating violent actions of war or seeking some diplomatic solution.

"We must know our allies" Rhaenyra ends by saying

The lords begin to debate which houses support them, how many men each have, and which places in the kingdom they must secure to gain an advantage over the green faction.

The meeting is interrupted when sir Erryk reports that Otto Hightower is on Dragonstone.

Her mother rides Syrax to greet him, and Alyssa and her siblings watch from the castle. For a moment she contemplates the possibility of the meeting ending in bloodshed, but her mother and stepfather return a while later and the meetings resume.

***

A couple of days later, her mother has still not agreed to commit any formal acts of war against Aegon. Alyssa is aware that her stepfather is beginning to despair because he is not a patient man, nor are his advisors who assure that victory will be easy considering that they have many more dragons than the greens.

"Vhagar is not a beast to be taken lightly," Rhaenys says, "she is several times larger and more experienced than any of our dragons."

“But if we get a coordinated attack, 3 or 4 of our dragons can overcome her. She has grown slow over the years,” Jace replies confidently.

Alyssa's stomach lurches as her mind conjures before her a vision of Aemond riding his dragon to war. And being received by her brother and other relatives, all ready to kill. Or die. Her body seems to suddenly weaken and she clings to Rhaena to stay on her feet.

"Are you okay, cousin? You look pale"

Her mother's eyes land on her, but Alyssa avoids her gaze and looks at Rhaena instead, "It’s nothing, I’m fine."

***

Her mother is absent at dinner that night.

Alyssa eats with the rest of her family and is about to go to her room when Rhaenyra walks in and takes her place at the head of the table. She knows immediately that something is wrong. Her mother looks strangely tired and her eyes are swollen from crying.

Her siblings seem to want to liven up the mood, but they give up after a while when their conversations hang in the air. They eventually say goodnight and Alyssa rushes off after her brothers.

"Alyssa, stay, I need to talk to you."

Her mother's voice also sounds tired. Jace and Luke look at their sister and mother before leaving them alone.

"Is everything okay, mother?" she asks as she sits back down

“I have news about your engagement”

"Oh," she shifts uncomfortably in her chair, "I thought under the circumstances the engagement could wait."

“Now more than ever we must act quickly. The greens will use any weapon at their disposal to hurt your mother's claim" it is Daemon who responds

Alyssa winces and turns to her mother again, “A war is coming, mother, and I want to be with you and fight. My brothers are going to use their dragons and…”

"You're not a dragon rider," Daemon smirks, "You wouldn't be of much use to us."

"I can try to claim one," she replies irreverently.

"Would you really dare to do that? You were lucky that I was around last time so I could calm Vermithor down. If I hadn't pulled you from his flames in time, you wouldn't be here now."

Rhaenyra shudders, “No, no, Alyssa, I don't want you to try to do something that stupid again. I'm not going to risk your life in vain."

Alyssa feels a pang of discomfort at her mother's words, “A dragon isn't the only weapon. I can fight in battle, I'm good with a bow and arrow, very good actually."

Her mother doesn't answer right away, but she exchanges a look with her husband and Alyssa looks at them, "I could be of great use, you both know it well."

"But how could we be sure that you would not join your lover if you had him in front of you on the battlefield?"

It takes Alyssa a few seconds to process what she just heard and she just watches them, astonished, before letting out a humorless laugh, "Surely you don't doubt my loyalty to your cause."

"Alyssa..."

“Mother, no,” she replies, offended, “How can you believe that I would betray you? You really don't trust me?"

She doesn't need her to answer because she has the truth painted in her violet eyes. Alyssa swallows and tries to calm the tremor in her hands. Daemon continues, “Let's not fool ourselves, Alyssa. You know you wouldn't be able to act against him if it came to that."

She wants with all her heart to contradict Daemon’s words, but she knows that he is right. Alyssa could never deliberately hurt Aemond. She does not conceive the idea of seeing him suffer.

There is an awkward silence until Rhaenyra speaks again, "I have decided that you are to marry Lord Cregan Stark."

"But you yourself said that you would not send me to the North"

"I remember what I said, Alyssa, but it's the best option for you right now."

Daemon interjects, "An alliance with the North is just what your mother's cause needs."

“Master Gerardys said Lord Cregan is not looking for a wife. Nothing assures us that he will agree to this union”

“I will send a messenger to Winterfell to convince Lord Stark. If he doesn't accept, Lord Manderly son will be the next option. His house is the second largest in the North and he controls dozens of smaller houses."

She just nods at all that information, though none of it really matters to her, "Should I get ready to leave soon?"

"A ship will leave for White Harbor tomorrow afternoon," Rhaenyra sighs, "You will be Lord Manderly ward until the details with Lord Stark are worked out."

"And Lord Manderly will not be offended by being used as a mere intermediary?"

“It was his idea for you to be his guest of honor. Furthermore, I intend to offer to betrothal Joffrey to his youngest daughter once you marry Lord Stark."

Clearly her mother had thought of everything. Alyssa nods again and takes a deep breath before looking at Rhaenyra, “Very good. If this is what you need from me, I will fulfill my duty. I will be a compliant ward to Lord Manderly and the best of wives to Lord Cregan."

Maybe then, Alyssa thinks, her mother would trust her again.

***

"We need allies"

His grandfather says out loud what everyone already knows.

Although several minor houses and some major ones have also sworn allegiance to his brother, they need to secure the support of the other lords in order to have full control over the kingdoms.

"Lord Grover Tully has made public his disdain for the idea of Rhaenyra being queen," Aemond says from the end of the private council table where he sits, "Lord Stark, however, has remained silent."

"Yes, but Lord Grover is a cunning old man, he will surely remain neutral during the battles to come" answers Tyland Lannister

“We must secure the North,” Otto continues, “Lord Stark has a son of Jaehaera's age. A betrothal would be the best way to get his support."

"Jaehaera will be the queen of Jaehaerys one day." Aemond plants his good eye on his grandfather

"I like the idea of betrothing her to the North," interrupts Aegon who has been listening to his council while fiddling with the Valyrian steel dagger that used to be his father's, "My daughter will not marry her brother."

Aemond turns to look at his brother. Since his coronation a change seems to have taken place in him. At least in some respects. Although he continues to spend his nights getting drunk and much of his time is spent on the back of his dragon, he has made an effort to be present at council meetings.

"Jaehaera is a Targaryen, her place is here with her brother. Would you rather send her north with a stranger with no guarantee of what her future will be like?"

"I agree with Aemond" Alicent chimes in and Aegon chuckles.

"But I am the king" Aegon addresses his grandfather, "Start negotiations, but make sure you let Lord Stark know that the wedding will take place only when they are both adults."

Aemond starts playing with the porcelain sphere in front of him to control his temper. He will have the opportunity to make his brother desist from such a ridiculous idea.

“We also need Storm’s End to support the king,” Tyland Lannister continues.

“Borros Baratheon is an ally of ours,” says Otto, “but he is also a proud man. If we want his support in the war we will have to offer something”

"Another betrothal perhaps?" Tyland smiles

"Borros has 4 unmarried daughters, surely a union with a prince is honor enough for the Baratheon ego"

Aemond feels the gaze of the council rest on him and he stands up suddenly, "Must I now also sacrifice myself for your cause?"

"Aemond" Alicent stands up as well and walks towards him.

"I don't need you to explain to me the advantages of such a union, mother, I know perfectly well that it is the most practical option” he replies when he feels his mother's hands on his arm.

“You are at the perfect age to take a wife,” says his grandfather.

Yes, he intended to take a wife, but she definitely would not be one of the Baratheon girls.

"Maybe my brother already had a candidate in mind" Aegon looks at him amused and there is something in the tone of his words that makes him feel suspicious.

"Is that true?" Alicent asks

The eyes of the council are once more on him and Aemond is suddenly uncomfortable. He focuses his gaze on his mother, her eyes look worried, her face looks tired and everything in her shows the anxiety that hasn't left her since the afternoon of Aegon's coronation. He takes her mother's hands and gently strokes her wounds around her fingernails.

"Aemond we need you to marry one of Lord Borros's daughters," she says quietly, "Having the support of Storm's End would make things easier for us."

He hesitates. He has never denied his mother anything and he knows that, if Alyssa were not involved, he would have no problem marrying whoever woman who helps Aegon's cause, "Daeron would be a better candidate than me"

"Daeron is not yet old enoughg" she shakes her head, "You are the second son of Viserys, you are more suitable than him"

Her mother does not know what she asks of him, she is unaware of what Aemond would have to give up to secure the Baratheon blades. Still, Aemond wonders if his mother would change her mind if he told her about his feelings for Alyssa.

Probably not.

"I plan to fight my brother's war," Aemond says after a few seconds' hesitation, "There will be no wedding yet, I will marry the girl once the kingdom belongs to us."

Alicent sighs in relief and smiles at him as she caresses his face and Aegon rolls his eyes. Aemond doesn't like the idea of breaking his oath, but he'll find some other way out when the war is over because letting Alyssa go is not an option in his mind.

“I will go to Storm's End myself to offer the betrothal,” he says as he sits back down, “Vhagar and I will leave tomorrow.”

***

Her trunks full of her belongings are brought to the dock while she escorts her brothers to the castle battlements.

"I can't believe you won't be here when I get back" the sadness of her twin is visible in his eyes

Alyssa fights back her tears as she hugs her two older brothers. She has already said goodbye to Joffrey, Aegon, Viserys and her cousins, but she knows that nothing is going to hurt like letting go these two, her eternal companions for games and jokes.

“The three of us have roles to play now,” she says. Her brothers volunteered to be Rhaenyra's messengers at Storm's End and Winterfell so that they could bring these two important lords to her mother's cause, "I trust also that this farewell won’t be for too long."

“I'll definitely take Vermax to White Harbor,” Jace says, “and I'll make sure Cregan Stark is a good man. I won't have you join him if he is not."

Alyssa smiles and takes her older brother's hand, "Thank you Jace."

Jace hugs her once again before looking at his siblings, “I'll give you a minute. I'll go see mother."

Alyssa approaches Luke when they're alone, and since she's as tall as he is, their foreheads meet. She also joins their hands, "I'm going to miss you every day"

“Me too,” he admits, “promise you'll write to me if you don't like something or if you're not treated properly. I know you're not too excited about flying, but Arrax and I will come to your rescue if you need it."

"I will write to you so much that there will be no crows enough to send all my letters" she smiles sadly, "Thank you, my brother. It is time for me to be brave about my new… challenge with and you must do the same" Luke rests his eyes on hers and she is able to see the fear and the indecision in them, “I know you feel pressured by the work you have to do in Storm's End, but remember that you are the queen's son. You are a Targaryen, the blood of the dragon and heir to the throne of Driftmark. Be brave and act like it."

Her brother smiles at her and she clings to him for a long minute until they go to meet their mother.

Rhaenyra makes her brothers swear not to take part in any fight, she says a few words to them and lets them go. Luke gives her a final smile as he goes after his dragon. Alyssa stands next to her mother and watches her siblings depart until they are tiny dots in the sky.

"Do you really think Lord Baratheon will welcome Luke with open arms because of our supposed relationship to Rhaenys?"

She never called the princess grandmother because the woman did not show special affection for any of Rhaenyra's children.

"Alyssa, please" her mother turns to her, "I don't want us to say goodbye on bad terms"

“It's just a question, mother. Just that” she tries to smile to comfort her, but her heart still feels heavy at the thought of having to leave her whole life behind.

“The North will be a good place for you,” Rhaenyra says, “The men there value the opinion of their women, they recognize their strong leadership, and don't downplay on them. I really think you will be happy there."

Alyssa just nods, although she internally thinks that those words sound more like lies that Rhaenyra tells herself to feel better about her decision.

"I should go to the port now" she says, "I hope I’ll see you soon, mother"

Rhaenyra wraps her in her arms and she holds back a sob before turning away from her mother and heading towards her new destination.

***

Vhagar is the first to notice their arrival. Her roar echoes through the fortress with such force that seems to shake its foundations.

"Is your dragon afraid of the rain?" asks Borros Baratheon with a stupid giggle, though Aemond is able to see that the lord of Storm's End seems concerned.

"Vhagar is not afraid" he replies

No, his dragon is angry. And Aemond soon learns the reason when a few minutes later a drenched Lucerys Velaryon enters the room wanting to talk to Borros.

Aemond stares at his nephew, enjoying the reaction he provokes from the boy. Tonight, Lucerys doesn't have the smirk of satisfaction, but an expression of concern and fear that makes Aemond feel gratified.

Lucerys exposes his mother's cause and Aemond never meddles, although inside of him the rage that the presence of his nephew always causes begins to accumulate. Seeing Lucerys is a constant reminder of the taunts and humiliation he was subjected to as a child.

"I'm not free to marry, my Lord” Luke replies when Borros asks which of his daughters he will take as his wife. The old Lord of the Storm does not take his answer kindly. He is a proud man and Aemond has had to play courteous guest all morning while he praised his daughters.

"What about your sister?" Borros suddenly asks, “I still don't have a son. Your sister could be the one to give me one."

Aemond's blood begins to boil within him and his good eye glares at the old man. How dare he even suggest the idea of his Alyssa joining him in marriage? The possibility nauseates him.

“My sister is already betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark,” Lucerys announces.

Borros' answer, Aemond doesn't hear. His hand goes automatically to the dagger that he wears at his waist. So, his sister had already dared to betrothal Alyssa in marriage. Anger at hearing the news begins to overflow inside him. Why did Rhaenyra and her family insist on taking what was most precious to him?

When Borros Baratheon makes it clear to Lucerys that he will not support his mother, Aemond knows he must let him go. He knows it's better not to confront him, that he won't obtain anything by giving in to the urge for revenge that he has latent inside of him. But his judgment is clouded when he hears that he refers to his mother as a queen. Aemond once again brand Luke a bastard, a traitor and demands that he remove his eye as a form of justice for having lost his.

Lucerys doesn't manage to do anything, he only says that he came as a messenger and that he made a promise to his mother. His lack of decision drives him crazy. Is this the boy who made life difficult for him years ago? The boy who mocked him for his lack of a dragon? The rage gets the best of him again and he is about to take him with his hands when Borros intervenes, driving them away.

Aemond quickly goes in search of Vhagar. He needs to teach his nephew a lesson. He needs to make him understand that it is now he who has the power, it is Aemond who rides the biggest dragon in the world and who is infinitely superior to him in every way.

And he also needs to make it clear to him that his side doesn't stand a chance against them. That his brother's throne will not be taken so easily. That Alyssa won't be taken from him as suddenly as he took his eye. He has to put Luke in his place.

Vhagar takes flight and hides in the clouds while Arrax plows through the strong winds of the storm. Aemond directs the dragon towards Arrax's tail, starting a dangerous game to make Luke understand that he must now take care of him.

But at some point, things get out of hand. When a frightened Arrax attacks Vhagar he knows his dragon is no longer playing. Aemond struggles to maintain control, pulling hard on Vhagar's leashes and barking orders in High Valyrian. But it's not enough. He can sense Vhagar's killing intent within him, and though he tries to the last minute to stop her from going against Arrax, there is no way to actually go it. The experienced dragon easily hunts down his nephew's dragon and closes her jaws around it, tearing it to pieces.

Aemond watches the pieces of Arrax and Luke fall into the sea as he is fully aware that his reckless actions have started a war.

But more importantly, Aemond is certain that he has lost Alyssa for good.

***

The waves break violently against the ship that morning and Alyssa begins to feel dizzy. Two days have passed since she left Dragonstone and the sea has been raging at all moment.

“If the storm continues, we will have to stop at one of the ports, princess. It will not be safe to continue in these conditions" informs the captain

Alyssa is inwardly pleased with the man's decision. She is in no hurry to get to White Harbor, but she is in a hurry to be on the mainland.

"Where are we exactly?" she asks

“Near Gull Town, princess. We will surely be able to find decent accommodations for you once we land there. Perhaps the Graftons can welcome you into their castle."

"Perhaps"

Alyssa knows that the Graftons are vassals of the Arryns and that the Vale supports her mother as lady Jeyne Arryn and Rhaenyra are related, but perhaps it would be better not to risk it and remain incognito in an inn. This way she would also have more opportunities to explore the city until the storm passes.

A couple of hours later they land at the port and Alyssa and her maids are led to an inn that looks quite large and clean.

"Should I prepare your bath, princess?"

"No, no, I would prefer just something to eat and a good night of sleep"

The young maid closes the door behind her and Alyssa begins to untie the braid of her hair so she can dry it properly. Her clothes are also soaked so she goes for a nightgown, but suddenly a noise is heard outside the inn.

Alyssa crosses the room to go get her bow and arrows, but two men suddenly break down the door and grab her before she can arm herself.

“What do you think you are doing?” she demands to know as she wrestles against one of them, "What is the meaning of this?"

She doesn't get an answer. The men don't say a single word, they just start dragging her out of the room, but she manages to kick one and bite the other's hand.

Alyssa breaks free of her captors and runs to try to reach her guards, but a third man appears at the door and she knows there is nothing else she can do.

The man raises her huge hand to strike her and Alyssa is able to hear the roar of a dragon before losing consciousness.

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Read on AO3 - Sinful desires by Aebi12