#rolled bad for a character's first childbirth

[pachnychnyszek]

Just had a MOMENT in my sims decades challenge that I MUST commemorate as a drawing. Shaking, crying, etc.

[wordstome]

kingdom come - iii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

7.7k words

tw: explicit smut, animal death, mentions of child death, violence, mild body horror, ableist language (use of the word "cripple")

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"I'm not going to sleep with you." -quote from woman who is about to sleep with him

There’s a portrait of a woman in your room.

Of course, König offered to have it removed or replaced, but you’ve procrastinated the decision because you never thought you would be here long enough for it to matter. Yet here you are, staring up at this lovely young woman on the wall.

You tilt your head, studying her. Her expression is neutral, almost pensive, but the artist captured a playful sparkle in her eyes, as if she’s keeping some sweet secret.

It’s the first queen, of course. König’s first wife. The one who died many years ago. It’s strange that after so long, he hasn’t gotten rid of the portrait.

What happened to you? you wonder. If someone had asked what you thought when you first arrived here, you would have said, without hesitation, that König had her killed. All your life, you had been taught that he and his father were evil, unfeeling tyrants. Now, this conviction has wavered.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s ridiculous, to be thinking better of his character. You only ever wanted to know him better to kill him. But the more you understand about what makes him tick, the less you think that he would do such a thing. Perhaps it’s true, then, that she died in childbirth.

Your eyes travel all over the portrait, poring over every detail of her features. Did you know him? Did you understand him? Did you love him?

Did he love you?

What did that feel like?

“Good. You haven’t left yet.” Calliope comes into the room, bustling with energy even before the sun comes up. You don’t know how she does it.

“We’re about to.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You notice she’s wearing gloves, but more importantly, she’s holding a necklace: a silvery chain with a small, intricate pendant. Vine-shaped pieces of metal hold a white, almost clear jewel in place, its various facets reflecting the candlelight in vivid colors.

“Jewelry? I’m going to be living in the woods for the next few weeks,” you tease as she lowers the necklace over your head. It does look quite durable, but you’re not exactly dressing for a costume ball here.

“Consider it a reminder that I await your safe return,” Calliope responds, securing the necklace behind your neck. “Look at it and remember me. You’re not to do anything reckless out there, am I understood?”

“Understood.” You give her a soft smile as she arranges the necklace on your collarbones. You’re grateful for the gift: though she can’t come with you, a small piece of her will always remain with you.

“Good. And don’t let that handsome husband of yours distract you and get yourself killed.”

“Calliope! What happened to ‘something’s not right with him’?”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t handsome!”

You snort and roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face.

You used to think that living in König’s home already exposed you to an exhausting amount of the man. As it turns out, going on a journey with him is even worse.

There’s nobody else to talk to, nowhere to run or put distance between you two when he frustrates you. It’s not so bad for the first few days: the towns surrounding the capital are still populated enough to provide some respite from him. But once the two of you have made your way outside the bounds of civilization, it doesn’t take long for things to become stilted and awkward.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the last town.”

“I don’t feel talkative.”

“Really? I’m out of my mind with boredom right now. Come, you’re not in the mood to get to know each other a little?”

You give him a look. “What else is there to know? I’ve lived with you for several months.”

“But we don’t talk.” König nudges his horse to walk closer to yours. König is such a large man, his horse is massive too: comically so, next to your normal one. You let out a sigh.

“There’s nothing to know about me.”

“I doubt that. All I know about you is you’re a princess trained to be an assassin. ‘Your whole life’, according to yourself,” he says with a touch of mocking.

You purse your lips, determined not to let him get under your skin. “There’s nothing else to know.”

“Truly? Nothing about what you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…your favorite food. Or hobby.”

“Hobby? …I suppose I spend a lot of time at target practice.”

“That’s not a hobby.”

“It’s relaxing to hone my skills.”

He gives you an amused look. “You remind me of myself as a young man.”

Something about that irks you. “We’re nothing alike.”

“I used to have the same mindset as you, at least. I held one objective in my mind and didn’t seek purpose outside of it.”

“I…”

As much as you loathe to admit it, he’s right. You have been focused on one objective your whole life. If you probe deeper, you can’t remember having any friends outside of Calliope, nor any interests outside of the curriculum your father set for you. “It wasn’t as bleak as you seem to think it was.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I never had fun. I had my own way of finding it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, when my training progress stalled, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Naturally. I eventually learned how to climb out of my window at night and go foraging in the woods for something to eat.” A smile curls your lips as you reminisce. “Eventually I even worked my way up to hunting—little things, like squirrels. I spent many a cozy little evening cooking for myself over a fire.”

You turn to find an abject look of horror on König face. “What? What’s wrong? Is there danger?” You turn around to scan your surroundings, but nothing immediately jumps out at you.

“No. No danger. I just…he sent you to bed with an empty stomach so many times you learned how to crawl out of your room and hunt squirrels to eat?”

You blink at him. “You’ve never had squirrel before?”

He looks scandalized. “Of course I have! That is not the issue with what you just said.”

You shrug. “It was important discipline. Besides, it gave me hunting experience at a young age. Squirrels are hard to skin, but I could do it in twelve seconds flat if you gave me one now.”

König looks like he wants to say more, but instead he looks up at the sky. “We should make camp soon.”

“Is it that time already?”

“It needs to be set up before it gets dark. We should also start hunting while it’s light out—not all of us can catch things in the dark, squirrel-girl.”

“Hey!”

Later, you’re both chewing on a rabbit when he speaks.

“You know, when you said you wanted to travel with me, I was quite concerned.”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t think I was capable of handling myself.”

“Not just that. I was worried you would be…unaccustomed to living rough.”

“You thought I would be a spoiled princess.”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes.”

You snort. “Well, now you know. I can handle myself in the outdoors.” You toss the rabbit bones you’ve just picked clean into a small hole dug into the dirt. When you leave, you’ll cover it with dirt to prevent predators from smelling the remains and following you on your journey.

“You want the other leg?” you ask. König seems startled, for some reason.

“You caught this one.”

“Yes, but you’re bigger than me. You need the food.” You reach up to pluck a leaf from a nearby tree and wipe your hands. Rabbits sure are greasy…

There’s a strange look in König’s eye as he regards you. You raise an eyebrow at him in response. “What?”

“…nothing.” He reaches for the rabbit while you shrug and walk off to find some water. The back of your neck prickles as you go, as if his stare is physically touching you.

You can’t stand to be near him nowadays, and you don’t know why.

Of course, you have no choice but to. There’s a tension that feels weighty, forbidden. You know he can tell, because he’s been more cautious around you, giving you as much space as he can afford to. Somehow, that irritates you even more.

Tonight, the two of you are camping in a dense, thick part of the forest not far from a road. It’s quiet, secluded: even the usual soundscape of ambient animal noises is silent.

The fire crackles and pops as you stare into the flames, as if you’ll find any answers in it. Instead, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as König returns from washing himself in a nearby stream, approaching you from behind.

“This won’t work if you’re constantly upset with me for some unknown reason.”

You don’t turn to look at him, though some invisible force compels you. “Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’m worried about your comfort too, you know. If you just told me what I’ve done wrong, then we can resolve it before it breeds resentment.”

“I’m just stressed.” Everything he does or says seems to irritate you nowadays, but you know in your heart of hearts that it’s not his fault. It’s your own problem—you assume camping outdoors for so long has taken its toll on your psyche.

He frowns at you, but doesn’t pry any further. You can’t help but watch as he walks around to the other side of the fire, drying his hair with his shirt. God, he is a work of art: all chiseled muscles and glowing skin. Your eyes travel down his torso, drawn by the line of his abs, down to the happy trail leading to the slightly askew waist of his trousers.

“You’re drooling, princess.”

Your eyes snap back up to his face. His eyes are dancing with mirth as he realizes he’s just caught you ogling him. You make a face at him, but it only makes him laugh. “Was not.”

“Incorrect answer. You should have attempted to strike at my ego. Now I know you were looking.”

“I think I’m just being driven mad by spending so much time alone with you in the woods.”

“I know several ways to drive you mad, sweetling.”

You slouch against a tree, your face hot—and not from the fire. In a blink, he’s standing before you, with a gleeful expression on his face like he’s just discovered a cure for dropsy.

“I know what’s making you sour as vinegar. You need to be fucked.”

You bury your face in your hands, unable to look at him. “I thought we had moved past this,” you groan, trying to ignore your rapidly quickening heartbeat.

“What, your ever-growing carnal lust for me?”

“You being a pervert.”

“I’ve never made a secret of it. You, however…” You suck in a startled breath as he leans down, trapping you against the tree just like he had the day you sparred with him. “You’ve been denying yourself.”

Your breath is ragged as he looks you in the eye, the tension between the two of you as taut as a bowstring. A familiar sense of panic rises in you, the same way you feel every time he’s close to you like this. Before, you thought it was because it felt dangerous to be so close to your enemy. Now, you’re second-guessing yourself.

“So what if I have?” you mumble.

“There’s an easy way to fix that.”

“…The last time you had me in this position, you were threatening me.”

He tilts his head slightly, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t feel threatened now?”

You don’t respond immediately, and heavens forbid, he takes it as hesitancy, his demeanor instantly transforming. “One word. One word, and we will never speak of this again. But if you tell me you want this, I will fuck you senseless.”

“Yes,” you whisper, and his lips on are on yours.

It’s a strange sensation, considering half of your mouth is pressed against the cold, smooth surface of his mask. You don’t even ask him about removing it—it’s become a part of him in your mind. And maybe part of you even finds the mystery of it alluring.

You all but melt into the kiss, against him. It’s different, everything is different than that first awkward kiss from when you were younger. It makes you ache, makes you long for him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before.

You have to separate to breathe, but your reluctance to break apart from him is clear by the way you chase his face with yours. He laughs at you, but it’s not condescending at all. It settles in your chest, warm like honey.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmur.

“Luckily for you, you’re in good hands.” It’s the cockiness in his voice that does you in, what makes you let go and give yourself over to him.

You feel flustered, awkward, and like the least desirable creature on earth, but he looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like there’s nothing else he wants more than to have you right now.

“You can trust me,” he says softly. You try to respond, but suddenly find you’ve gone mute. All you can manage is a small nod.

To your surprise, he lowers his mouth to your neck. You gasp, a full-body shiver running through you as he kisses you there, sucking and nipping at you as he goes. “W-wait, I’m—”

“Sensitive? I can tell.” You squeak as he continues to lavish you with attention, his fingers trailing down the front of your torso to undo your pants. His movements are deliberate but slow, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. But of course, you don’t.

You let out a quick little breath as he finds his way to your pussy, his deep chuckle reverberating against your throat. “You’re so wet…did I do that to you, liebling?”

You’re about to respond, but instead let out a sharp gasp as he dips a finger into your pussy. “How are you ever going to take me into this tight little hole of yours…” he taunts.

Oh, God, you hadn’t even thought about that. Your mind flashes back to your wedding night, and the first time you tried to kill him. You had mostly been shocked by his audacity, but only now do you recall how big he had felt between your thighs.

He’s gentle with you at first, patiently stretching you open as you whine and beg in his arms. You just about sob when he finally pays your clit attention, circling it with his thumb, and in what seems like no time at all, you’re cumming, hard.

“That didn’t take long at all,” he says with that awful smirk of his.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you stammer. “You know…”

“I’m only teasing you.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead as you come down, shivering with pleasure.

He makes you cum twice with just his hand. Your legs are trembling by the time the two of you properly get undressed. You’re soft and pliable, helpless putty in his hands as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Ready, liebe?” he asks.

“That is not going to fit,” you say, eyes wide and fearful. There’s absolutely no way, you think, staring down the absurdly thick and long monster between his legs.

“Trust me, remember? We’ll take it slow,” he reassures you. You bite your lip and nod, giving him the go-ahead to sink into you.

Instantly, you realize that no matter how well König could have prepared you, there was no chance that it would have been enough to ready you for the stretch of him. You feel like you can hardly breathe as he splits you in half with his cock, your mouth dropping open in a wordless cry.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he groans, but he keeps his promise to go slow, feeding himself inch by inch inside you until he’s sitting snug up against your cervix.

The two of you stay there, suspended in a moment in time, connected to each other in the most intimate way two people can be. It makes your head spin, makes you dizzy with the sensation of his body pressed against yours.

You nod, and he starts to move.

If you had thought before that his fingers felt good inside you, then his cock is something else. The delicious stretch of him is almost electrifying, and you wonder how you went all your life without it.

All you can do is let him take control—you don’t have the presence mind to do anything but hold onto him, gasping and moaning. He’s all around you, above you, inside you, and it feels like nothing else in the world matters, or that there is a world other than König, König, König.

Your third orgasm surprises you, waves of pleasure flowing through you as you cry out, your pussy sucking him in as if it wants him to stay inside forever. That’s what seemingly pushes him over the edge too, a string of expletives bursting from him as he floods you with his cum.

You’re limp and weak, all but purring as he shifts to lay next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You are sweet when underneath me like this,” he purrs.

You swat him in the chest, but it must feel no heavier than being hit by a branch, because he just laughs.

“There’s no reason to be shy now. I’ve seen everything at this point.” You pout at him—something that only seems to bring him delight, because he pulls you in for a kiss.

“This isn’t how I wanted to take you the first time,” he says, a hint of shame in his tone.

Your heart twinges with affection. This isn’t how you imagined your first time, either, but the idea of him wanting you so badly he thought about it beforehand, fantasized about it even…“I’ve slept in trees before, this is nothing,” you reassure him.

He shoots you a concerned look. “You continue to share alarming events from your childhood.”

You sleep together that night, curled up against him with your legs tangled with his. He falls asleep first, the slight rumble of his chest as he sleeps against your cheek. You lay awake a little while longer, watching him, breathing him in. Now, you have no choice but to be confronted with the truth that you’ve been refusing to acknowledge this whole time.

You don’t hate him anymore. You don’t even dislike him now. And you certainly don’t want to kill him.

On one hand, things are easier. Crossing the line feels more like having torn down a wall, with no more need for pretense. On the other, König is somehow even more insufferable than before. Or perhaps insatiable is a better word for it. You go from having daily sexual tension with him to daily sex, period.

It’s like the floodgates have opened. He’s always loved to tease you, but it gets a hundred times worse now that he knows just how to make your cheeks feel warm.

“I was thinking…” he muses one night as you cuddle by the fire. “You may have to start riding on my horse.”

“Don’t I already do that?” you ask, sleepily playing with his hair.

He snorts. “Your susceptibility to my corrupting influence is truly something to marvel at.”

“You’ve been enacting psychological warfare on me for months.”

“Anyhow, as I was saying.”

“Your horse is quite large, but I don’t think it could handle me astride it as well.”

“Well. Certainly something else that’s large could handle that…”

You sigh. “Get to the point.”

“It’s becoming quite distracting, watching you moving up and down with the horse’s stride.”

“I cannot believe you. Innuendos twice in a row?”

“This is a legitimate grievance!”

“Riding on your horse would not fix the problem. Unless you plan for me to sit behind you in the saddle, which I refuse to do.”

“You’re no fun.”

You lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth instead of responding.

Your newfound…activity, however pleasingly distracting, can’t eclipse what comes next.

The mood is somber as you arrive in the village: it’s a quiet, sleepy place, just a scattering of simple houses dotting rolling hills and one singular street lined with buildings in the center of it all.

In sharp contrast to his playful, almost jubilant mood on the road with you, König instantly snaps into his authoritative persona. It especially suits him when he puts on the hood: it makes him seem that much more intimidating and threatening. Almost inhuman.

The first order of business is to hold counsel with what passes for the leader in this tiny village: a local merchant patriarch. He’s a sturdy man in his older years, face lined with both wrinkles and scars. He must have been quite the warrior when he was young: you can tell by the way he carries himself.

He gives both of you the lay of the land, and it’s a grim predicament indeed. Herding the livestock is a job most often given to the children, as it’s a relatively safe job with less skill required than the tasks the adults take care of. That’s changed, of course, with the arrival of the beast a few weeks ago. He confirms the most gruesome details that have been brought before König by previous messengers, and it turns your stomach just to imagine it. Those poor children…

The two of you set off early the next morning, with directions from an experienced hunter who had been keeping track of the beast and reporting its movements. At first, it feels normal: just another walk in the woods with König. The solemn silence between the two of you serves as a stark reminder that this isn’t like normal—followed promptly by increasing signs of a presence in the woods. Snapped branches, giant pawprints, and worse, streaks of blood.

Then you break though into a clearing, and your blood runs cold.

The beast before you could only be described as a wolf for lack of a better descriptor. It’s monstrously large, being König’s height and half again, with all of its proportions just slightly wrong: its legs scrawny and just slightly too long for its body, the snout lean and far too sharp to fit the rest of its head. Dried old blood crusted into the fur of its muzzle and chest belies the savagery of the creature, even streaking onto the fur along its neck. And the most obvious tell-tale sign of an unnatural creature is that fur: a dark, rusty blue that shifts with impossible pinpricks of light, like the night sky is ensnared in this feral animal’s coat.

You heard its growl before you saw it. But now when it lays eyes on you and König, it opens its snout and…speaks.

“What do we have here?” The voice comes out as a broken, reedy croak, as if stretching vocal cords that haven’t been used in a long time.

Something about it raises your hackles, like your body’s responding to an ancient, ingrained fear. Fae.

“Don’t listen to anything it says.” König’s voice is suddenly soft, dangerous. “None of it is trustworthy.” Slowly, deliberately, his hand moves to his back and draws his sword.

“Ah, the boy king,” hisses the beast. “You simply couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“You’re eating my subjects,” König responds. Your eyes flit to where his hand tightens its grip on his sword. “This is not personal.”

“But it always is, is it not?” The beast and König circle each other, like two combatants in an arena. “You are as ever driven by your past mistakes.”

“König, what is it talking about?” You feel like you’re witnessing a conversation you shouldn’t be, but you feel helpless to do anything about it. If you tried to make a move towards the beast now, it would have its jaws snapped around you in an instant.

“It’s lying, liebling. It’s what they do. It’s trying to throw you for a loop so it can catch you off guard.”

“Liebling now, is it?” The beast lets out an awful, barking laugh. “My, the two of you have come far. But not far enough, it seems.”

König gives you a quick, sidelong glance, then tilts his head back towards the beast. The message is clear. We need to distract it. I’ll keep it talking.

“From her response, it seems you’ve been keeping secrets from your lovely little bride.” The beast shakes itself, its fur puffing up to look larger and more intimidating.

“There’s nothing to keep. None of that is important.”

“I would beg to differ. And if your liebling knew what it was, she would disagree as well.”

“You know nothing about us,” König growls. Yes, you’re in a life-or-death situation right now, but the viciousness in his tone sends an excited shiver up your spine. You’re opposite König now, almost completely hidden behind the beast’s monstrous form.

“You know nothing about each other!” Before either of you can react, the beast whips around. Its glowing-white eyes are fixed on you. “Not that it matters any longer.”

You barely have time to scream before the beast is upon you.

“No!” König’s voice rings in your ears. You can feel the creature’s hot breath, its vile drool spilling onto your clothes, its teeth closing around your neck—

Time slows to a crawl, the events unfolding one after the other in sequence. The first thing you’re aware of is the beast’s roar of pain, booming deafeningly all around you. I’m inside its mouth, you think numbly. The second thing you notice is your necklace: it’s glowing red, as if the metal has become molten hot. But you don’t feel any burning sensation, just a faint tingle.

The third thing you see is König shoving himself between the two halves of the beast’s snout, physically holding it open with his body.

It’s truly an impressive sight, like watching Atlas hold up the sky. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up at him in awe.

“What are you doing?! Get out!” he yells, and you snap back to your senses.

You roll aside out of the beast’s range, scrambling to get back on your feet. König dodges out of the way just as the jaws snap shut.

“Is that..?” the thing wheezes. You rush to help König up as it glares balefully at you. Its beady eyes focus on the pendant around your neck, narrowing in disgust.

“Calliope,” it spits. “I should have known. This bears marks of your meddling all over.”

Your blood runs cold. “What did you just say?” What does your lady in waiting have to do with this?

“You—” The beast doesn’t get a chance to finish its sentence, because König takes advantage of its consternation to stick his sword into its neck. The creature bellows in pain and lunges at König, who barely manages to dodge the strike but loses his grip on his sword in the process. The monstrous animal whips around and around, attempting to grab hold of the sword with its teeth.

“Strike, now!” König calls before promptly getting clocked in the head with the pommel of his own sword as the beast thrashes and screams.

You don’t hesitate to spring into action, unsheathing a wicked-sharp blade as long as your forearm and sprinting towards the creature. König’s left you a perfect opening: as long as the beast is trying to get ahold of the sword, its chest is wide open for attack.

You don’t waste the opportunity. With the running start, you leap forward, sinking the blade into the wolf’s chest, right where its heart lies. The long, keening wail that the beast lets out is confirmation that your blade has struck true.

You have to throw yourself into a roll to get out of the way before the massive body crashes down on top of you. It lies on the ground, its heaving breaths growing shallower by the moment, its wounds staining the ground with a faintly shimmering golden ichor. So the fae do have golden blood, just like the old legends said, you think, watching the macabre scene with stunned terror.

“Brought low by two fae-touched mortals with barely a fight…” the beast huffs. It sounds weary and resigned to its fate, strange for a creature that had seemed so deadly and menacing just moments before. “Fate is cruel.”

“Fae-touched…what do you mean?” you ask, eyes widening. “Wait! What do you mean by that?!”

The beast doesn’t respond, its chest now hardly moving with its breaths. It’s not long for the world, now.

Behind the hulking, dying animal, you spot König staggering into a standing position. “König!” You gather yourself and rush towards him.

He’s visibly unstable on his feet, swaying slightly and looking dazed. The sword must have hit him hard, because his hood has been partially torn away. Despite everything, though, you can’t see any visible blood or injuries from this angle. Until he turns.

A bloodcurdling scream tears its way out of your throat. König cringes slightly at the sound, but you can’t help yourself. The sight is terrifying.

The skin above one half of his mouth is simply gone. He has no lip, not even any flesh up to his nose. His upper teeth and gums on one half of his mouth are just exposed, giving him a grim, unnatural appearance. He looks like Death itself, resembling the skeletal depictions in the manuscripts.

You should be afraid—scratch that, you are afraid. But you realize quickly your fear is not of him, but for him.

“Did it do this to you?!” you say, panicking. You dash forward and grab ahold of his face, turning it so you can examine the injury more closely. The act seems to startle König, who simply looks down at you in confusion.

“What are we going to do? There’s no way this village has a healer who could dress this wound…” you fret. An injury on this level is almost certainly a death sentence if he doesn’t receive adequate attention immediately, and he certainly won’t last the night if you’re forced to travel by horseback again—

“Schatzi…” König grabs your hands with his and removes them from his face. “I’m fine.”

You stare at him in shock for a moment. “You—how can—you—”

He heaves a heavy sigh, as if a massive burden has been placed on his shoulders. “I’m alright. The wound is…not new.”

“How can it not be new.”

König screws his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather his composure. “It’s been this way since I was young. Look,” he says, touching the area with a finger. “There’s no blood.”

On closer inspection, you realize he’s right: not only is there no blood, but the skin around his mouth and nose appear to be completely healed. And not even as if it were a true wound: there’s no scarring, no uneven flesh. The skin and muscle are simply…missing.

“What…how…” You’re at a total loss for words. Since he was young? What happened? How had he survived such an injury as a child? You have a million questions, but you find yourself unable to ask any of them.

You watch him, stunned, as he walks past you towards the beast’s body. It lays completely still now, all semblance of life having fled from the corpse. With one hand on the grip and one foot braced against the beast’s body, he wrenches his sword free, then bends to pull your knife out.

“I know you must have questions,” he says, wiping the blood off of both weapons onto the wolf’s fur with a grimace, “but I can’t answer them here. Please, if I promise to explain, will you…will you wait until we’ve left the village?” He turns to look at you beseechingly.

“I…” Now that the adrenaline and initial panic is beginning to fade, your whole body feels heavy and exhausted. You don’t have the energy to be angry, or afraid, or demand an explanation now. You have no choice but to agree, nodding quietly. König seems relieved at your calm response.

“So that’s why you always wear a mask or a hood,” you say numbly as you watch him take the ruined hood off, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. He gives you a sad, regretful look.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

“I never meant for anyone to find out.”

The villagers throw a celebration. A modest one, to be sure, but the relief on the peoples’ faces is enough of a reward for you. You can tell König is glad to see it as well—though every time you look at his face, hidden once more behind his mask, you feel a twinge in your heart as you remember what lies underneath it.

You can’t find it in yourself to enjoy the celebrations, even as excited children and grateful parents swarm you to give their thanks. You give them all a smile and a kind word, but that’s all you can manage. Dread and curiosity mix to form a terrible feeling in your gut.

The days between your defeat of the beast and your departure go by in a blur. You’re grateful for the rest, but you can’t stop thinking, worrying, about König’s condition. You manage to stop being petrified that he’s going to drop dead of infection at any moment, but you can’t look at him anymore without thinking about it. About the secret that he’s kept from you, from everyone who’s ever met him. You can’t even wrap your mind around what it all means. You have no point of reference for what could have happened to your husband’s face.

Husband. What a strange thing, to be wed to someone whose full face you had only seen a few days ago, months into your marriage. You haven’t thought of him like that at all. He’s always been König: the king, the enemy, the annoyance. And your lover, you suppose. For the first time, you start to wonder exactly what kind of man you’ve bound yourself to.

Because it’s exceedingly clear to you now. You can’t kill this man. Not just because you don’t want to anymore, but because he might be unkillable.

The village hasn’t yet vanished in the distance behind the two of you when you speak. “What the hell?”

König’s eyes slide to you, then back to the road ahead. “Language.”

You sputter in indignation. “Lang—that’s not what I want to hear!”

“Forgive me. I couldn’t resist.”

“König, this is serious! You promised an explanation.”

“I know what I promised,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“Well?”

König takes as deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

Then he begins.

“Well. What do we have here? You’re awfully young for this, little prince.”

He’s fourteen. He’s about to make a decision that will shape the rest of his life.

He had done as the crone’s old tome instructed. Bone from an animal slain in its youth. Flowers bloomed under the cover of pitch black night. A blade whet on the summoner’s own flesh. He’s knelt under the light of the full moon, round and blindingly white.

The ethereal creature standing before him is easily twice his height, with an unearthly glow to their skin and hair and a smile that could almost be mistaken for kind and benevolent on their unnaturally beautiful face.

He’s done it. He’s summoned a fae.

With no small amount of difficulty, he rises to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane that helps him walk. The fae lets out a noise of amusement as they watch the young boy struggle.

“Usually, mortals don’t gamble away their lives until they’re older, and greed begins to dictate their actions.”

He glares at the fae but doesn’t respond.

“Come, now. Do not look at me so. Give me your name, little prince.”

“…you may call me König.”

The fae’s expression sharpens, ever so slightly. “Clever boy. ‘König’…don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

“I want to make a deal.”

The fae sighs. “Straight to the point, I see. Well, I can’t fault your efficiency. Or is it desperation?” They smirk at him, their eyes taking the rest of him in. He knows he must make for a pathetic sight: a cripple with a harelip, spine curled and legs thin and spindly.

He doesn’t care. This is the last day he will ever be this pathetic.

“Let me guess. You wish to no longer be a cripple.”

“I want to be able bodied. I want to be strong enough to defeat my enemies. I want to be rid of my harelip.” Clear, concise language. He’s spoken these words to himself in the mirror countless times.

“You’ve certainly done your research. Then you know what price I will ask for such things.”

He swallows nervously. “Yes.”

“Very well then. Let us begin.”

It starts in his toes, the strange sensation that flows up through him that he will know all his days. He can feel the strength rushing into his limbs, feel his spine straightening, withered muscles coming to life.

Then comes the pain.

It’s white-hot torment, as if his body has become a living coal. He falls to the ground again, screaming and writhing as his bones crack and realign themselves. Somewhere, in the distance, he can hear the fae’s cruel laughter as they watch him suffer. For a brief moment, some primal, animal part of his brain thinks he’s going to die.

“Fret not, boy king. You won’t perish—I won’t let you until you give me what you’ve promised me,” the fae says, as if they can hear his thoughts.

He’s not sure how long he lays there on the ground, body wracked with agony. It feels like hours pass before he regains use of his limbs. But the pain does eventually fade away, leaving him dazed but still alive. Slowly, he manages to stand up again.

He stares at himself in wonder, legs and arms stretching. For the first time ever, he’s able to stand tall and straight on his own, his cane discarded to the side. And he feels strong. At last, he doesn’t feel weak for once.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The fae’s face has changed: they still look the same, but there’s a beastly, ugly quality to their lovely features that chills him to the bone.

His hands fly instantly to his face. The harelip is still there, he notes with displeasure.

“You forgot something,” he says, frowning in his lopsided way.

“Oh, I didn’t.” Before König can react, the fae’s eyes hollow and grow dark, becoming two pools of endless void. Their teeth sharpen, their face grows gaunt.

“Remember what you owe, boy king,” they remind him. “On the day and the hour your first child is born, I will come to collect.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream before the fae reaches forward with black talons and tears off his mouth.

You’re rendered speechless by his story. Where do you even start?

Your first thoughts are of the way he described himself as a child. König, weak and crippled? König? You look at him now, eighteen hands high astride his horse, the picture of raw strength and dominance. You can’t imagine it at all.

Your second thought is— “You made a deal with the fae? Do you know how foolish that is? Fae never give you what you want, and the cost is always far too high!”

“Don’t lecture me,” he says tightly. “I know what I was getting myself into. I had no other choice.”

“What do you mean, no other choice? You were the king’s son—you are the king! You could have had servants carry you everywhere if need be!”

“You don’t understand what it was like,” König snarls, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “Nobody would have accepted a cripple as their king. My life would constantly have been in danger, having to rely upon others. Unable to even defend myself if an assassin set upon me in my bed.” He’s getting angrier, more worked up as he goes.

“I told you that I was once poisoned as a child with nightshade berries. Did you wonder why there was such a plant in my mother’s garden? Why the royal heir was unsupervised for so long in the first place?” König’s expression is twisted, his voice turned bitter with betrayal. “It was a plot against me by some of my father’s advisors. They conspired with my nursemaid to make it seem like an accident…they expected me to die.”

“I…I’m sorry, König. I didn’t think.”

He glances at you and takes a moment to collect himself before speaking. “I was lucky. My father sent for the best healers he could find. My mother cried at my bedside for weeks.” His brow furrows. “My lot in life could have been worse: my parents loved me, at the very least. But it made me hate myself even more—that I was such a profound disappointment.

“My mother had a difficult birth. Some whispered that it was penance for what my father did: that the spirits of those slain during his campaigns had cursed my mother’s womb. She never was able to conceive again…so all their hopes rested upon my shoulders. My crippled, useless shoulders.”

The venom in his voice when he talks about himself makes your heart ache with sympathy. You move your horse closer to his and put a hand on his arm, squeezing him in what you hope is a comforting manner. His expression softens as he looks down at you.

“It would have been easy for you to kill me if I were still like that, liebe.” You feel your face grow warm again at the term of endearment.

“It makes sense, your strength being fae-given…Calliope said there was something not right about you.”

“Calliope is a perceptive woman.”

You study his face, eyes regarding his mask in a new light. “It really doesn’t look so bad. I only reacted that way because I thought you were injured.”

He shrugs. “Never was that good-looking anyway.”

You make a face. “Are you suggesting I sleep with ugly men?”

“You’ve only slept with me.”

“I’m trying to compliment you.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“When you’re not annoying me.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, now you know.”

You study him. He seems relieved to have finally gotten this off his shoulders. “Do you regret it?”

He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “…No.”

The village’s leader had advised an alternate path back home: it might take you a day or two longer, but it was less remote and lined with other villages. You arrive at the first inn just as the sun is about to duck beneath the horizon, the sky streaked with orange.

It’s a serene part of the wood, and the inn is quite quaint as well. Whoever runs it has done well for themselves, you think absentmindedly as you and König dismount and prepare to unload.

A side door swings open, and a quite frankly huge man walks out, facing away from the two of you. Your sense of scale is attuned to König now, so he’s of course not the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but he’s broad-shouldered and thick with muscle. You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can just about spot his blond hair—

“Shit. Shit.” König instantly spins around so his horse is between him and the man who’s just walked out of the building. You squint. Is he…hiding?

“What’s going on? Should I be worried?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Is he cringing? “Do you think it’s too late to set up camp?”

“Set up camp? When there’s a perfectly good inn right there?”

“Yes!”

“What has gotten into you? That man is quite big, but he’s not that sc—”

“I’m not scared of him, I just recognize him. And I don’t particularly feel like seeing him.”

You’re agog at the scene before you. “You’re the king.”

“Even kings have their hangups, alright?”

“I am not sleeping in the woods.”

“As your husband and supreme ruler, I demand it.”

“Come now. I know you’re tired of fucking me outside.”

That gives him serious pause, which almost makes you giggle. Ridiculous man. You could probably lead him onto an executioner’s block if you held him by the cock.

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward to hold his hand and giving him the biggest, most wide eyes you can muster. “I’m not ready to go back to sleeping on the ground yet.”

His face scrunches up in a hopelessly endearing, almost childlike way. “Fine. But you have to go in and talk to the innkeep. I’m going to stay out here.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is, but fine. You big baby.” You hand him your horse’s reins and make your way to the front door of the inn.

You’ve barely pushed the door very far at all before you hear a friendly voice from inside. “Welcome, traveler! Come on in.”

“It’s wonderful to make your—” You stop in the doorway, frozen with shock.

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, your highness.” A pair of familiar sparkling eyes look back at you. “And you can tell his majesty that he can come inside, I’ve already seen him.”

König’s first wife stands before you, watching your reaction with clear amusement.

Forgive me for that smut. It's been years since I've written anything nsfw, and I wrote this at like. 5AM after a very long day because when I'm not exhausted, writing smut becomes impossible. It's quite the pickle.

Well...I did say that part 3 was going to be a doozy! I'm looking forward to all the reactions...🤭

Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @keiva1000 @catluvwr @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @channelsoph @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @lexuria @complexivelovely

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Eighty-Seven

She was unsure how long it had been. Hours? Days? Maera had seen both the sun and the moon whilst she was confined in her chambers. One thing was consistent though: the presence of pain. At first, it was bearable, akin to really bad cramps during Moons Blood, happening every few minutes. She remembered this pain from when she had first flowered, a dull, relentless ache that spread from her lower abdomen and tightened her muscles. Each wave of pain rolled through her body, forcing her to breathe deeply and steadily, focusing on staying in control.

Maera had dismissed her husband from attending the labours. She had seen enough of them occur at Rain House to know that they were not a pretty sight. The women who laboured were very vulnerable in that state, and Aemond had already coaxed her vulnerability out of her a few days prior. Maera did not wish to allow her walls to come down again so soon. The thought of him seeing her in such a state, of hearing her cries and witnessing her struggle, was unbearable.

Even though she just wished to labour with the support of her midwives, Maera was not cruel. She promised to send someone to provide Aemond with updates regularly. The thought of him pacing outside her chambers, anxious and restless, brought her a small measure of comfort amidst the pain. She imagined him standing there, his brow furrowed in concern, his fists clenched in helpless frustration. It was a strange solace, knowing he cared enough to worry.

During the early stages, Maera coped well. A tub was brought in, and while the water was not the temperature she would have liked for fear of scalding the babe if it came out, the water soothed her temporarily. She even managed to eat some oatmeal, its warmth settling her stomach, and slept for a few hours.

As she lay in her bed, the midwives standing vigil, her thoughts drifted back to her husband. Was he still waiting for her? Or had he been forced to attend other matters? After all, he was now the… No, she couldn’t think about that now. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of her breaths, trying to maintain her composure.

She was awoken by a feeling of a pop from within, followed by the consistent flow of warm water between her legs. The suddenness of it startled her, and as the midwives hurried to her side, their experienced hands assessing the situation, Maera's heart raced. After that had happened, her tolerance for the pain became nonexistent. Each contraction was a wave of agony, crashing over her with relentless force, leaving her breathless and trembling. She gripped the sheets, her knuckles white, as the pain intensified, her body no longer able to find respite.

The hours stretched on interminably, marked by the rhythmic waves of agony that washed over her. Her midwives attended her with care, whispering words of encouragement and administering soothing balms. Yet, the pain remained a constant companion, unwavering and intense.

Unable to cope, Maera screamed at the midwives, her voice raw with desperation. "How long is this going to take?" she demanded, her breath coming in ragged gasps. One of the younger midwives attempted to reassure her, her voice soothing yet firm. "You can do this. You are strong, my Queen."

My Queen?! Hearing that title made Maera want to vomit. "Don't fucking call me that!" she yelled at the women, her anger and fear melding into a powerful outburst. As she changed position, landing on all fours on the cold stone floor, the senior midwife performed another examination, her experienced hands moving quickly and efficiently.

The elder midwife concluded that there was not long left to go, that there would be a baby by the end of the day. But that did not bring Maera much comfort as the minutes of the contractions seemed to last forever. Each wave of pain stretched time into an unending torment, making every moment feel like an eternity.

Milk of the poppy helped slightly, but instead of dulling the pain, it made her more delirious and nauseous. There were several bouts of vomiting, the bitter taste lingering in her mouth, and no rest from the contractions. The relentless agony left her trembling and weak, each contraction a cruel reminder of her vulnerability.

As night encompassed the castle, Maera burst into tears, her sobs echoing against the cold stone walls. She stood against the wall, looking out of the window, her tears streaming down her face as she clutched onto her swollen stomach. "I can’t do this for much longer," she choked out, her voice breaking with despair. "I think I may die." Her fear was genuine, born of experience and history. Many women had died in their labors, including her own mother.

Through her tears, Maera focused on the sight outside the window. The night was so dark that she couldn't tell where the sea ended or the sky began. The endless blackness mirrored her own hopelessness. Alongside the relentless sound of the sea, she could hear Ēbrion calling to her, his roars agonizing to hear and a stark reminder of the life she fought for.

The eldest midwife approached gently, her voice steady and calm. “Allow me to examine you again, my Que- erm, Princess. It shan’t be long now.” Maera nodded, her tears still flowing, and sat on the edge of the bed. The younger midwives held her hands, their touch providing a fragile anchor as the senior midwife lifted her nightgown and completed her duties with practiced ease.

When the examination was done, the senior midwife looked up, her face lit with a mixture of relief and urgency. “Marvellous! I can feel the head,” she announced. "It’s time to start pushing."

Maera’s eyes widened in a mixture of fear and hope. "Is it nearly over?" she asked, her voice trembling.

One of the younger midwives nodded eagerly, squeezing Maera’s hand reassuringly. “Yes! You have done wonderfully!”

The words brought a flicker of strength back to Maera. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the final effort, determined to see the end of her torment and hold her child in her arms.

The midwives helped Maera to a birthing chair, an ancient wooden seat with a wide, curved bottom and sturdy armrests. Maera settled into it, her legs apart and feet braced against the footrests. One midwife stood on either side of her, holding her hands for support, while the senior midwife knelt before her, ready to deliver the child.

With a steady voice, the older midwife instructed, “Now with the next pain, I want you to push.” Maera nodded, feeling the pain building like a wave. "It's coming," she gasped, and the midwife responded, "Push, now."

The agony of pushing the child out was like nothing Maera had ever experienced. The burning, stinging, and immense pressure were overwhelming. She gripped the other midwives' hands for dear life, her knuckles turning white. As she pushed, she could feel the body of the babe moving down, but when she stopped, it seemed to retreat back up. It felt impossible, like an unending cycle of pain and effort.

Maera threw her head back, tears streaming down her face as she cried out, "I can’t do it! I can’t!"

One of the younger midwives leaned in close, her voice gentle yet firm. “Yes you can! You just need to push past that pain.”

The older midwife directed the other midwives to grab Maera’s legs and hold them higher than her hips, positioning her for a more effective push. They complied quickly, each movement practiced and efficient. “You can do this, the Mother is with you!” the senior midwife reassured her. "Now, push again."

With a deep breath, Maera summoned every ounce of strength she had left and pushed, screaming as she did. The pain was searing, but she pushed through it, driven by a primal urge to bring her child into the world. The room felt stifling, the air thick with the scent of burning herbs and the metallic tang of blood. Candles flickered, casting long shadows on the stone walls, creating a haunting dance of light and darkness.

The midwives continued to encourage Maera, their voices blending into a symphony of support. “That’s it, that’s it! Amazing,” one said. "Almost there," another added. Maera pushed through the pain, every muscle in her body straining with the effort. Then, the senior midwife's voice broke through the cacophony. "Stop for a moment, my dear. The head is out."

Maera breathed a sigh of relief, her body trembling with exhaustion. She remembered from childhood that once the head was out, most of the hard work was done. One of the younger midwives gently held a cold flannel to her forehead, wiping away the sweat that had formed. The coolness was a small comfort amidst the heat of her labor.

"The child is almost here," the older midwife explained, her hands steady and sure. "I'm going to move the child down the birth canal to get the shoulders out. This part will sting a bit." Maera felt the stinging sensation and blew short, quick breaths, like blowing out the candles in her room. The senior midwife smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "The Gods have blessed you with a very big child."

The other midwives laughed, and even Maera managed to muster a smile. One of the kind midwives leaned in close, her eyes shining with warmth. "Are you ready to meet your child?" she asked softly.

Maera's heart swelled with anticipation and joy. Her child? She was so close. She nodded eagerly, tears of relief and happiness mingling with the sweat on her face. The senior midwife looked at her with a reassuring smile. "One last push.”

Summoning courage, Maera braced herself for one last intense push. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and gathered every ounce of strength she had left. The effort was monumental, causing her to feel lightheaded and sick, but she bore down with all her might. Her whole body trembled with the strain, muscles burning and heart pounding furiously. She felt as if she were being torn apart, the stinging pain almost unbearable.

Then, suddenly, she felt a weight drop from her, a rush of relief flooding her body. The pain, though still present, began to ebb away, replaced by a strange sense of emptiness and lightness. The room fell silent for a moment, everyone holding their breath. Maera looked down between her legs, her heart in her throat, and saw the older midwife beaming up at her. The midwife raised her arms, and there, cradled in her hands, was a tiny, squirming creature. The baby opened its mouth and let out a loud, piercing wail, the sound filling the room. Maera stared in disbelief, her vision blurring with tears.

She joined in, crying her eyes out in relief, gratitude, tears streaming down her face as she reached out, her fingers trembling, to touch her newborn child. In that moment, everything else faded away—the war, the pain, the fear. All that mattered was this new life she had brought into the world. She had done it. She was a mother.

Two little eyes peered up at Maera, dark grey at first glance but already revealing a subtle lilac hue that hinted at the Targaryen lineage. The baby's nose had a delicate, slender bridge, leading to tiny lips that, when pouted, mirrored Maera’s own. A fine dusting of hair, as silver as the moon, crowned the child’s head. Perfect. She was perfect.

Maera could not stop staring at her daughter, a tired yet radiant smile on her face. She pressed a tender kiss to the child's forehead, inhaling her sweet, newborn scent. The baby's skin was unbelievably soft, like the finest silk, and her cheeks were adorably chubby.

Shortly after the child was born, a wet nurse entered the room, offering her services. Maera, overwhelmed by an instinctive protectiveness, couldn't bear the thought of handing her child to another woman. She gently dismissed the wet nurse and, with trembling hands, removed her own nightgown. She pressed the baby to her bare breast, and to her amazement, the baby latched on immediately, instinctively knowing what to do.

Another wave of love and warmth surged through Maera as the babe suckled. She watched, captivated, as her daughter fed, feeling a profound connection and an immense sense of fulfillment. This tiny being was hers, and the depth of her love was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

As Maera rocked the child in her arms, she couldn't help but think of her mother, the late Lady Gael. Her mother had fed all her children herself, much to the dismay of Maera’s father. He had insisted that a noblewoman's duty was to produce heirs, and breastfeeding interfered with that. Maera smiled at the memory of how her mother had retorted that Lord Jasper had enough heirs and would need to be patient. Her father had smiled and relented, unable to argue further with Lady Gael’s determined stance.

Maera gazed lovingly at her daughter, unable to bear the thought of ever parting from her. Her birth had infused Maera’s life with even greater meaning, a higher purpose. This tiny, precious being was now her reason to keep going, to find some way to win this war. All for her.

Once Maera and the baby were cleaned of the blood, sweat, and other fluids of birth, Aemond was permitted to enter. The doors opened slowly, and Maera looked up from her daughter to see her husband cautiously walking towards her. She smiled at him, a bright and cheery smile, letting him know that all was well.

Aemond, usually so stern and composed, looked visibly relieved. His single eye, usually hard and calculating, softened as he took in the sight of Maera and their daughter. As he approached, his steps were tentative, almost hesitant, as if afraid that he might disrupt the fragile peace of the moment.

Maera watched him closely, her heart swelling with love and pride. She knew that beneath his tough exterior, Aemond had a tender side that few ever saw. As he reached her, he sat by her side on the bed, his gaze locked on their child. The baby, sensing his presence, stirred slightly, and Aemond’s expression softened even more.

As Aemond gently stroked the child’s hair, his touch was delicate, as if afraid she might break. Maera, sensing his hesitation, lifted the baby and gestured for him to take her. At first, Aemond seemed unsure, almost nervous, which Maera found endearing. With a reassuring grin, Maera gently placed their daughter in Aemond’s arms. He took a deep breath, holding onto the child securely in her blankets. Slowly, he began to rock her, his expression softening as he smiled at the tiny noises she made.

Maera chuckled softly, breaking the tender silence. "Dermot was right," she announced, looking at Aemond with a playful gleam in her eye. Aemond raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression. Maera laughed, explaining, "She’s big, just like I was when I was born."

Aemond let out a chuckle, the sound filling the room with warmth. Maera looked at him, her heart swelling with love. Despite the turmoil of the realm and the challenges they faced, in this moment, all she saw was her family. A family they had created together, a testament to their love and resilience.

They sat together in peaceful silence, watching their daughter. The soft flicker of candlelight danced across their faces, casting gentle shadows in the dimly lit chamber. For Maera, it was a moment of pure happiness amidst the chaos of their lives—a moment she would cherish forever.

A thought suddenly occurred to Maera, shattering the tender moment. It brought the gravity of their new situation and stations crashing to the forefront of her mind. She looked at Aemond, her eyes clouded with worry, and apologized softly, "I’m sorry I have given you a daughter."

Aemond looked at her, bewildered by her statement. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

Maera couldn’t help but worry. After all, Maelor was gone. And Aegon, ever prideful, would not have named Jaehaera as his heir if something were to befall Maelor. That would be hypocritical of everything the Greens stood for, no matter how ridiculous. No. Aemond was now the King, something he had wanted all his life. And as King, he needed an heir, something their daughter could not be.

Her husband shook his head firmly, dispelling her concerns. “You give me the greatest gift anyone has ever given me and you apologize?” He then reached out and cupped Maera’s face, his large palm pressing gently against her cheek. Maera leaned into it, desperate for the touch to take away her worries.

“Tis I that should apologize to you. For all I have put you through,” he muttered, his voice filled with a sincerity she had rarely heard from him. He had done unspeakable things to secure her to him, but those things had led to the birth of their daughter.

And yet, Maera's worries continued to gnaw at her. She could not shake the horrible feeling within her. As much as Aemond's words and touch provided comfort, the shadow of their uncertain future loomed over her, as well as the shadow of their past.

A great dynasty will be born from the blood of Aemond Targaryen. The words echoed in Maera’s mind. My son… and your daughter will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory. From their union will come the Prince that was promised.

Maera squirmed against the pillows on the bed, her dark brown and silver hair still tangled from the labors. She picked at her fingers nervously, glancing up at Aemond. “I can’t help but think about Alys,” she confessed.

Aemond shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the witch’s name, a witch who had caused much turmoil in their marriage. Her presence, and the prophecies she had whispered, and the fact that Aemond had listened, lingered like a storm cloud.

Maera sighed deeply. “She was right; I did have a girl after all. If the witch was right about that, what else might she have been right about? What did I prevent by killing her?” She took the child from Aemond’s arms, holding the babe close. “The King of Kings? The Prince that was…”

Aemond cut her off, his voice firm. “She is gone,” he said, looking down at their babe, who was now snoozing soundly. “All that there is now is...” He glanced up at his wife, his expression softening. “Well? What should we call her?”

Maera hummed, a small smile playing on her lips. “I never decided on a one. I wanted to see what she looked like first.” She gazed down at their daughter, her eyes brimming with love and wonder. The baby stirred slightly, her tiny face scrunching up before settling back into peaceful slumber.

Aemond reached out, gently stroking the baby’s soft hair. “What about after your mother?”

Maera tilted her head, analyzing the sleeping baby’s face. She traced the delicate features with her eyes, noting the tiny nose, the soft tufts of silver hair, and the slightly parted lips. After a moment, she shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “She doesn’t look like a Gael,” she murmured. Turning to Aemond, she asked, “What do you think?”

Aemond studied the child’s face intently. He saw the way her nose crinkled slightly, the delicate arch of her eyebrows, and the serene expression she wore in sleep. “What about Alysanne?” he suggested after a pause. “After our great-grandmother, the Good Queen.”

Maera's face twisted in displeasure, the name evoking memories of the witch of Harrenhall. The similarity was too stark, too haunting. Aemond saw her reaction immediately and nodded, conceding, “Maybe not.”

The baby made sweet little noises in her sleep, a soft cooing that made Maera’s heart swell with love. She beamed down at her, and Aemond let out a deep sigh, the weight of their new reality pressing upon them both. As she gazed at her child, she felt Aemond lean against her shoulder, and she let him, their shared warmth a small comfort.

He asked gently, “What do you see when you look at our daughter?”

Maera stared intently at the child's face, tracing the shape of her eyes, the curve of her ears, the line of her nose, and the color of her hair. Each feature seemed to echo Aemond’s own. It became clear to her. She turned to Aemond and said softly, “All I can see is you.”

Her husband rocked the child slightly, shushing her as she stirred, tiny fists clenching and unclenching. Maera looked at Aemond once more, her eyes shimmering with a mix of exhaustion and joy. “What about… Aemara?” she suggested, a tender smile on her lips. “Named after you.”

“You’re sure?” Aemond's eyes softened, a rare and genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As his wife nodded, he rolled the name over in his mind, savoring it. “Aemara,” he repeated, the name carrying a certain reverence, a promise. He leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Maera’s forehead. “It’s perfect.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sound the gentle breathing of their newborn daughter. Maera felt a profound sense of peace wash over her, despite the turmoil and uncertainty that lay beyond their chamber doors.

The days following Aemara's birth seemed to meld into one continuous, blissful stretch of time for Maera. Life could have been made easier if Maera had allowed the assistance of the castle staff, but in truth, she was so in love with her daughter that she couldn’t bear to part with her, even for a second.

The crib was brought right next to Maera’s bed, an intricately carved piece of furniture draped in soft linens. The child would sleep there when not in Maera’s arms, a place of safety and warmth. Next to the child in the crib lay the giant black and green dragon egg, its surface shimmering with a mysterious light, as was the custom for Valyrian children. It was a symbol of her heritage, a link to her powerful lineage.

The nights were the longest, with the quiet castle echoing the soft murmurs and cries of the newborn. After a feed and a change of napkin, Aemara would be content to doze back to sleep, her tiny fingers curling around Maera's own. These moments, though exhausting, were also filled with an indescribable joy.

Aemond visited daily, his presence a constant source of support and comfort. He would spend hours in silence, simply looking at his daughter as he held her. He would stroke the bridge of her nose or press his nose into her hair, brushing his lips against her little forehead. His eye, often cold and calculating, softened in these moments, revealing a depth of love and tenderness that he seldom showed.

When Aemara cried, Aemond would rock her gently, whispering sweet words of High Valyrian to soothe her. His voice, usually commanding and firm, took on a lilting, musical quality as he spoke to the babe. When his words and rocking did not calm her, he would gladly pass her to Maera, their skin brushing as he placed the child in her arms. The touch was brief but filled with shared understanding and love.

Neither Maera nor Aemond had broached the subject of Maelor's fate or what the future might hold. The silence surrounding that dark event and the uncertain future hung heavy, but it was a silence Maera was thankful for. She wished to remain in her bubble of early motherhood for just a little while longer before her life would undoubtedly change forever.

The newborn stage was surprisingly easy for Maera, and she recalled from her childhood how, when her little brothers and sisters were born, she would often complain to her stepmothers about how boring babies were in the first few months. They did not really do anything—move, rarely looked at you, and mostly cried. However, now as a mother, she felt serene and at peace with Aemara’s quietness. Each soft breath, each tiny movement, brought her joy and a sense of fulfillment.

Between feeds and napping, Maera decided to make use of the paints Aemond had brought her, setting up a canvas near the window. She carefully positioned Aemara’s crib beside her, ensuring the child was close enough to be watched over while she painted at the easel. The natural light from the window illuminated her workspace, casting a warm glow over the scene.

Maera began to paint from her imagination, her brush moving gracefully over the canvas. She started with the horizon, blending soft hues of pink and lavender, capturing the gentle transition from night to day. The sky above was a symphony of colors—delicate blues mingling with hints of gold, as the first light of dawn broke through the darkness. Each stroke was deliberate, filled with the emotion she felt for her daughter and the new chapter of her life. The sun itself was a radiant sphere, painted with vibrant yellows and oranges that seemed to burst forth with life. She added fine details, the rays of sunlight extending outward, touching everything in their path.

Aemond entered the room, and Maera turned to bid him a small smile before turning back to her painting, grabbing a sponge to smooth out the edges of the clouds. The soft, rhythmic motions of the sponge created delicate wisps that added depth and realism to the sky.

Her husband approached the crib, smiling down at their daughter, who lay snuggled next to the dragon egg. The sight of Aemara, so tiny and serene, filled him with a profound sense of wonder and pride. Just as he reached into the crib, Maera turned and stopped him, her voice gentle but firm. “Please, don’t disturb her. She’s just fallen asleep.”

Aemond nodded, withdrawing his hand before approaching Maera’s side. He looked at her with his single violet eye, taking in her relaxed appearance. Maera’s hair had been braided away from her face, and she continued to wear comfortable black robes as they were easy to nurse in. She wore an apron to prevent the paint from splashing on her clothes and skin, but her hands were still stained with various shades of purple and orange paints.

As she worked, she could feel his gaze on her, causing her hair to stand on end. Aemara had certainly brought them closer, but Maera still did not know where she stood with Aemond. The intensity of his presence, even in these quiet moments, was something she was still getting used to.

Aemond eventually broke the silence, asking, “What are you painting?”

Maera paused, placing her brushes and sponges down on the easel. “It’s been a while since I painted, so I wanted to start with something simple,” she explained. She attempted to reach behind her to undo the knot in her apron but struggled to loosen it.

She then felt two strong hands settle on her hips from behind, freezing her in place. Aemond’s presence was overwhelming. As he began to undo the knot, Maera let out a shaky breath, swallowing nervously. “A sunrise,” she said softly. When the knot was undone, she quickly lifted the apron over her head and stepped away from him, setting it aside.

“Hmm.” Aemond stood silently, staring at the painting. After a moment, he asked, “What would you say to those who interpreted it as a sunset?”

Maera was intrigued by his question and simply shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied, taking a moment to look at the painting herself, analyzing the blend of colors and the composition.

“Art is meant to be subjective,” she continued, “and to prompt conversation.”

Aemond glanced at her, a raised brow highlighting his sharp features in the daylight. “Indeed,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “A sunrise or a sunset, it marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.”

Maera looked at him, seeing the weight of his words reflected in his eye. She wondered if he was thinking about their new roles, the uncertainty of their future, or simply the beauty of the moment they shared now.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of loud rustling coming from Aemara’s cot. The babe began to cry, flailing her arms about. Maera quickly approached, shushing her daughter.

“Shhh, sweet girl, it’s alrigh- what the fuck?!”

As she reached into the cot, she let out a scream, jumping backward in shock. Instinctively, she scooped Aemara into her arms and held her close, staring into the cot with wide, bewildered eyes.

“Aemond…”

Her husband immediately moved to their side, placing a reassuring hand on Aemara while peering into the crib. Both Maera and Aemond stood frozen, their faces reflecting sheer astonishment as they beheld the sight before them.

There, amongst the blankets and shattered pieces of shell, lay a tiny black dragon. Its scales were glossy and dark as coal, with an almost iridescent sheen under the soft light filtering through the window. The creature had piercing green eyes that shone with an unsettling intelligence, and its wings were folded neatly against its body, displaying a faint webbing that hinted at its nascent ability to fly. The dragon was no larger than a kitten, its small claws and teeth barely visible, yet it exuded an aura of raw power and ancient magic.

The little dragon let out a soft, curious chirp, shifting slightly among the remnants of its egg. Maera clutched Aemara tighter, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked to Aemond for reassurance, both of them processing the gravity and wonder of the scene before them.

“Incredible.” Aemond reached into the crib, his movements slow and deliberate. The hatchling growled, its tiny body stiffening into a defensive stance, wings twitching slightly. Aemond withdrew his hand momentarily and looked to Maera, who held Aemara close to her chest, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and anxiety.

Steeling himself, Aemond reached in again, this time flattening his palm and beckoning the dragon to step into his hand with a gentle, coaxing motion. “Ynot.” To me.

The young dragon chirped hesitantly, eyeing him warily before finally stepping into his hand with a delicate, cautious gait. Aemond turned, showing the hatchling to Maera. He lifted it, analyzing the tiny creature before declaring, "I believe it's a female." Maera nodded, her nervousness clearly apparent, driven by her fierce maternal instinct. Aemond, sensing her apprehension, reassured her, "Do not fret. She will not harm her.”

Maera hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting from Aemond to the baby in her arms. She looked down at Aemara, swaddled in her blankets, her tiny face peaceful despite the earlier cry. Finally, she nodded to Aemond, her resolve firming. With a gentle kiss to Aemara's forehead, she placed the babe back in her crib.

Aemond carefully placed the dragon beside the child, both parents watching with bated breath as the young creatures interacted. The little dragon circled the babe, its head tilting and trilling softly as it inspected Aemara. The child, sensing the dragon’s presence, reached out with her tiny hands, her fingers grasping the air. The dragon responded by lowering its head and licking Aemara's fingers, a surprisingly tender gesture from such a fierce-looking creature.

Maera's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and wonder as she observed the bond forming between her daughter and the hatchling. Aemond stood close beside her, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder, both of them silently acknowledging the significance of this moment.

Aemond tilted his head at the sight, his expression thoughtful. “It’s strange to bear witness to this bond,” he remarked. Maera raised an eyebrow in confusion, prompting him to elaborate. “You and I bonded with dragons as adults, and neither of us had an egg in our crib. But Aemara… as she grows, her little dragon will follow her everywhere, guarding her.”

Maera chuckled in agreement, a soft smile spreading across her face. “She’ll be like a little shadow,” she said, reaching into the cot to stroke her daughter’s cheek with her thumb. The baby stirred slightly, her tiny hand reaching out reflexively.

Maera then ran her finger across the little dragon’s head, feeling the smooth, warm scales under her touch. The dragon chirped in response, its eyes bright and curious. “Sȳndor,” Maera decided, the name rolling off her tongue with a sense of finality. Aemond nodded in agreement, the name fitting perfectly for their new companion.

Maera sighed deeply, her gaze lingering on the small dragon and her daughter. The dragon, like the sunrise in her painting, symbolized a new beginning, a brighter future filled with hope and possibility. It was a reminder that even amidst darkness and uncertainty, there could be moments of beauty and joy. However, the future remained unclear, shadowed by the recent upheavals and the weight of their new responsibilities. The bubble of early motherhood, though blissful, was not sustainable. Reality would soon encroach upon their haven, demanding attention and action.

As Maera looked back at Aemond, she revealed her inner thoughts. “As I look in the cot, I see a future worth fighting for,” she said, her voice steady despite the underlying tension. She met his gaze, her eyes searching his for reassurance. “As King, how are you prepared to do that?”

Aemond nodded, understanding the gravity of her question. He gestured for her to sit down, to which she complied, settling into a nearby chair. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the gentle breaths of their sleeping daughter and the occasional chirp from the little black dragon. It was time to determine the path forward, to forge a future that would ensure the safety and prosperity of their family and realm.

Notes: Right I know I didn’t pick the name for the baby from the poll, but I have a good reason. My friend gave birth to a baby girl called Imara and that sparked a lightbulb moment 💡 also, ridiculously, I got very emotional writing this. What you’re reading is my actual birth experience, which took 50 hours! It was a very medical birth, but I didn’t see it as traumatic at all (my pregnancy was horrendous so I was glad for it to be over 🤣) The doctor delivered my son, but my husband and midwife were my birthing support. And during covid too! I remember all those feelings so vividly so I hope I represented them well in this chapter. AND we have a new little dragon 🖤

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88 @darylandbethfanforever9

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[undercat-overdog]

Third and fourth episodes worse than the first two. Thoughts in no particular order.

General note: I have seen people say that RoP needed more time to develop and that studio pressures to make it faster paced hurt the show. No, what RoP needed was less time and ideally fewer storylines. Desperately need an editor. And no, this isn't a complaint about slow pacing. Its problem there is that pacing is inconsistent.

Other general note: the show has a major problem with timelines, both in its internal narration and how it fits with Tolkien canon. There are a bunch of third age elements popping up (Kings of Men burying their dead in the Barrowdowns? What Kings of Men!), but there are internal problems too, especially the disconnect between Isildur and Numenor (was Isildur in suspended animation for the time it took for Elendil to go from Mordor to the coast and then for not-Brego to travel all that way back?) There's no sense of time or distance.

Things I liked:

The spider fight at the beginning was fun! Nonsensical but very fun. Loved the gleaming spider eggs.

I like the evil Istar and his evil minions, even if the main minion dude stole his mask from General Grievous. I'm also really into the desert setting! It's new and unique.

Some of the set design is very nice. Numenor's is so pretty and I liked Tom's house, especially the star map on the ceiling.

I hope they're going for a romance with Isildur and what's-her-name. It's shallow but cute. If we must have a dead mother, I like how it was drowning and not childbirth or illness, especially in Numenor (though why the angst, Isildur, isn't the sea is always right?) I was meh on a lot of that storyline, but Isildur's cute and so is his horsemance.

Things I didn't like or were neutral on:

A minor sin, but I cannot get over how bad makeup is and has consistently been from the beginning. This time it's Saubranatar and the blond elf OC: their foundation is not the same shade as their skin and goes horribly with the wigs (blond elf OC desperately needs some purple conditioner, very brassy). At least in Bombadil they finally found a character for whom blush overload is appropriate.

Reallllly not a fan of the prosthetics either, especially with the new hobbits.

Still hate the hobbit storyline and now I have more to hate with it, in Bombadil.

I kinda wonder if they've gone to the longer hair because of all the backlash to the short hair lol.

The hobbits are looking for the promised land of Suzat? First, wtf. Second, Westron the language will not exist for a couple thousand years!

Why is we're-not-saying-he's-Gandalf the only character who has been naked so far? More than once!

Is a shot of orc baby the reason people wrote articles about how rop added morally complexity and greyness? Lol.

The Numenorean storyline is incoherent and terminally stupid. I realize that last season didn't leave them a great foundation: still terminally stupid. Why didn't the eagle talk? I do think Pharazon in particular has potential, but he's way underdeveloped.

What the hell is Theo's vest thing? They've moved into a (ruined) settlement and have running water, they no longer need to muck farm! Also I would like if the evil helmet haired kid never comes back. Cannot express how little I care about him or his and Arondir's stepdad angst. He and Isildur sure are monster magnets though.

Speaking of monsters, it felt like an rpg where the DM kept rolling for random monster encounters. In two episodes, we got spiders, Sarlacc creature, Eagles, Ent and Entwife, angry person-eating tree, barrowwights, I'm sure I'm missing something. Just randomly take shit and throw it in, doesn't matter if it fits, fans like references! It's pandering filler that doesn't advance the storyline.

Can we stop it with the PJ movie callbacks? I'm resigned to never getting away from his aesthetics, but all the recreations of different shots. I guess they took the Barrowwight look from Pirates of the Caribbean and not PJ?

We know she's an Entwife and not an Ent because she has flowers.

Lmao that is so much metal to make Rings and the mithril lump is not big. Is it homeopathic mithril? And for a show named after Rings, they sure don't spend a lot of time on them.

I have very little good to say about Celebrimbor and that storyline but it's a character and place I'm deeply invested in so I'll leave that be. On a couple neutral notes, Charles Edwards' acting is better than last season (where I was very not impressed) and I'm curious what they'll do with Elrond's antipathy towards the Three, given that he'll later end up bearing one.

The end credits song at the end of episode 4 was hilariously incongruent.

[batbeato]

Derived from the really long rambling I just did, and general umineko brainrot, what do you think would happen if Kinzo had been born a woman? Because a relatively 'simple' change in one character alone, changes everything - literally everything - about the story of Umineko.

I guess for one, it depends on if this is a world where everything is completely genderswapped, or where it's just Kinzo...

First off, I don't... think a woman Kinzo would be able to be Head of the family. The elders probably would have picked someone else, primarily because Kinzo as a branch family member wouldn't really have been enticing enough for them to have her take a husband who would take on the Ushiromiya name and act as the Head with her being his wife. They were probably too traditional for that, unless they had a convenient other-doormat Ushiromiya from a different branch with a distant enough blood relation.

Regardless, let's suspend any disbelief and roll with this, where they are that desperate and make Kinzo the Head, assign her a husband to "look after her", etc. Also, female-Kinzo still ends up being in the military and meeting Bice somehow, maybe disguising herself as a man?

If Bice is still a woman, this makes Umineko a (toxic?) lesbian romance, cuts out all the generational abuse of the Beatrices, and we have ourselves a fun time, since Bice never dies in childbirth.

If Bice is a man, we can have ourselves some whacky generational trauma where Kinzo hides some pregnancies. Also maybe Bice dies anyway from something, just to keep it level. Assuming Kinzo's Bice-child is a boy, Kinzo can then abuse Kuwatrice in much the same way, and then "Lion" would be AFAB and "Sayo" would be raised as a boy. This would change a very large amount of things.

First we have the fact that Kinzo would probably be operating off of a lot of internalized misogyny, then we have the fact that Kinzo's husband would Not give off the energy of a very very abused and neglected woman with internalized misogyny forced into a loveless marriage and instead maybe more of a Kinzo-toned-down energy... And then we have how Kinzo being the Head would give Eva so much more ammunition. Oh, and the very different vibes Kinzo/Genji would have, since if they're not same-gender people would gossip about an affair.

Overall I think Umineko would be a story with more empathy towards Kinzo as a very clear victim of misogyny, being controlled by powerful men, trying to take back control, and going way too fucking far (in potential manipulation of Bice and the abuse of Kuwatrice). It might weaken the themes in some ways if not handled carefully since I feel like the trope/idea of a manipulative mother sexually abusing a son can lead itself into some bad places in fiction depending on the writer, framing, and level of care taken, though it is a real phenomenon that happens and that shouldn't be downplayed at all ever in the real life context.

[rhetoricandlogic]

The Troupe By Robert Jackson Bennett

Published by Orbit Books Released February 21, 2012

Holy Author of Creation! Robert Jackson Bennett‘s latest book, The Troupe, is the wondrous and heartrending tale of 16-year-old George Carole, a gifted pianist whose mother died in childbirth and who is on a quest to find the father he’s never known. After reluctantly telling George that his father is in show business, he leaves his nagging grandmother to work at Otterman’s theater in the hopes of finding him one day. As soon as he learns his father’s traveling vaudeville troupe, The Famous Silenus Troupe, is performing in the nearby town of Parma, George quits his job and jumps on a train.

What he notices first as he steps off the train is that tiny Parma is creepy. The quality of light is all wrong and there’s an extra-dark darkness that hovers over the town. As he gets close to the hotel where the troupe is staying, George notices something else – all the sounds of the world die out and a mysterious man in a gray suit emerges from the thickening shadows. He heads straight for George and asks him about Heironimo Silenus.

Sensing the man seeks to harm his maybe-daddy, George tells him nothing. He rushes to the theater to warn Silenus and gets there just as the oddest show he’s ever experienced during all his time as a vaudeville pianist begins. He sits through the show utterly mystified yet still anxious to meet the man he’s 99% certain is his father. When he finally does, he gets much more than he bargained for. His attempts to warn Silenus about the man in gray backstage after the show are met with contempt and dismay that George is still fully awake after the last act. This is no ordinary show, for sure, and George is no ordinary member of the audience. The troupe knows that right off the bat. George is just confused.

And so what begins as one boy’s journey into manhood becomes a whole other tale altogether. The Troupe is no ordinary group of performers for they, too, are on a quest and existence – all of life – depends on their success. Silenus is not exactly the father figure George had in mind and is neither whom nor what he appears to be and neither is Stanley, Silenus’s ever-present silent right-hand man. Franny, the strongwoman, is something altogether different and the ventriloquist act may be no act after all. This leaves only the beautiful and talented, but tempestuous Collette for George to turn to for friendship, which quickly deepens into a hard crush.

As is true in real life, so must be true in a story about life, which The Troupe really is. The best laid plans fall by the wayside and new, more urgent actions take precedence. In this case, a showdown between the Light and the Dark, Creation and Anti-Creation, changes everything for everyone in the troupe. Some truths are revealed a little too late to do some of the members any good, while others help to heal ancient wounds.

It has been said that Bennett’s work is like Stephen King and John Steinbeck rolled into one. I haven’t read Steinbeck in years, but I can see why the comparison to King has been drawn. The characters in The Troupe are endearing in their oddness and even in the bad ones there is good which struggles to break free from dark shackles. But the main theme here, as with so many King stories, is the basic boil-down to good versus not-good. I can’t really say evil here because the anti-creation forces see their goal as the only just course of action. They’ve been displaced by the creation of the world and they’re quite put off by it to say the least.

Told with affection and vivid prose, The Troupe submerges you in a world of time out of mind and place, and makes you wonder what the hell it’s all about, this life on Earth business; whom or what exactly put us all here and why? Will it ever end? Could it? While you may not find answers to the Big Questions here, The Troupe will certainly keep you enthralled until its very satisfying end.

Robert Jackson Bennett is also the author of Mr. Shivers and The Company Man. The Troupe is his third novel. A fourth as-yet untitled book is forthcoming – an excerpt of which I read at the end of The Troupe – and promises to be good and creepy and exceedingly well-written. This Book Slave has found a new favorite author here! Learn more about Robert Jackson Bennett here.

[sweetlyfez]

I posted 2,827 times in 2022

That's 308 more posts than 2021!

47 posts created (2%)

2,780 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@starrypawz

@rorid-gravellock

@starlightomatic

@hufflefluffles

@hacash

I tagged 1,516 of my posts in 2022

Only 46% of my posts had no tags

#funny - 85 posts

#art - 65 posts

#history - 46 posts

#fez talks - 45 posts

#us politics - 44 posts

#uk politics - 41 posts

#textiles - 32 posts

#fashion - 26 posts

#cute - 22 posts

#happy things - 19 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#or people like my brother's ex who knew all the fancy cooking techniques but reliably turned out food that just didn't fucking taste of any

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

gotta laugh when the taste in men uquizzes are like "lol daddy issues u picked all the old men" but actually you're over thirty

11 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

#4

Whale weekly crew please note there is a link to an annotated version in the email which may help with the old-fashioned language, references, and jargon.

I thought the pythagorean maxim was gonna be something about angles but apparently it is a fart joke. Great stuff

29 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

#3

I know it's forEVER since the end of Castlevania s4 but the Nocturne teaser reactivated the Trephacard brain and all I'm saying is if anyone would like some *realistic* post-S4 pregnancy and baby headcanons just gimme a wave

48 notes - Posted June 12, 2022

#2

Ty @amiandivh for responding to my post here's the baby and pregnancy headcanon post!

Timeline wise I reckon Sypha noticed her period was late when they were in Targoviste, briefly mentioned it to Trevor, but didn't think about it much cos you know, they were busy.

So Trevor's emotional "final" speech was absolutely with the assumption that they'd conceived.

The day she's trying to leave is probably no more than 10 days later and Alucard will have caught her throwing up a couple of mornings in a row like "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" (that thing in tv shows where morning sickness is the first idea someone has that they're pregnant is actually how it goes often? I totally thought it was a TV lie for so long)

Alucard and Trevor spend the first trimester trying to be so helpful that it becomes irritating. Alucard is at least able to provide some good treatment for the queasiness and finds lots of info in the castle about good nutrition. Trevor just impedes his own recovery until the others give him a bollocking

The boys are also on lookout for a bump immediately and are kind of amazed it takes like 4 months to be clear even with every woman in the village going "yeah it's a first baby that's how it goes?"

Trevor is horrified by the stories that all the women are passing around about their own pregnancies and childbirth. When he asks Sypha if it worries her she's like "Not no but these ideas are less new to me, and we have an entire castle full of medical technology so it'll probably be ok"

Everyone's folk traditions about how to tell the baby's sex before they're born are shared and argued over. Alucard rolls his eyes at all of them but does confide that he thinks a baby girl would "suit" them

No sonograms or doppler machine obviously but dhampir hearing isn't bad for checking on the heartbeat when the baby goes still for a day at around 26 weeks.

When Sypha starts having contractions at least half the women around are like "eh, it's probably a false alarm" bc it's exactly the start of the week they reckon she's due and babies are so rarely that on time.

The men are banished from the delivery room but are allowed back in after the third time they pester the women going back and forth for supplies for a progress update.

Everyone agrees it was a pretty normal labour but the baby is on the big side, and impressively strong.

Everyone is Obsessed with the newest Belmont and their big baby blue eyes. They have so many honorary aunties.

Sypha insists they look like Trevor. Trvor insists they look like Sypha. Alucard quickly tires of the discussion and comes back with nonsense comparisons like "Well they've got a nose. Dragos the baker has a nose, maybe they take after him."

Alucard offers the stash of his baby toys he found in a castle attic. Every single one has a bat or skull motif on it.

187 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It's now tradition, when we have bought a sweet pumpkin, to chant as it comes into the house "YES, YES, THEY HAVE THE SUGAR PUMPKIN", bc that's the message we got from @elodieunderglass after asking for pumpkin pie advice.

235 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[na-cafe]

Characters: Renjun x reader

Genre: fluff, a little bit angsty

Warnings: childbirth, blood, pregnancy, strong language ( just little )

|request by: @en-gailee|

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"Do we have everything?" asked Renjun, your soon-to-be husband ( you two have a date a few months after your baby is gonna be born ).

"Yes, Renjun, we do have everything," you answered him slightly annoyed. "You are asking that for the past month, you know?" you looked at him. He was sitting by your wardrobe with your hospital bag and was checking if there is everything you'll need.

"I know, I know." he sighed deeply. "But... I'm just worried." he look back at you; you could even see the worry in his eyes. "I want everything to be perfect and I know when the time comes, I will be just panicking. So it has to be perfect already."

"Ach, Renjun." your face softened. "There is nothing to worry about. We went through all of the possibilities that can happen. I think we are more than ready for this." you went to him and sat next to him ( it was a little bit hard with your big belly but you somehow managed it ). "It will be alright, Renjun."

"Y/N?! What are you doing?!" he completely ignored what you were saying and instead started worrying about you sitting on the floor next to him. "You know it's not good for you to be sitting like this." he reminded you and you had to roll your eyes.

"I'm trying to be a good girlfriend here!" you crossed your arms on your chest ( well... Belly, actually ) and looked at him with a frown. "So stop nagging me," you murmured.

"But the doctor said it's not good for you and the baby. That it's too hard on you, so you should sit on high-level things like the bed or chair." he ignored you once again and said the same thing; like you couldn't hear him the first time.

"You know what? Fine..." you give up and started to get up on your own ( even if you know that is not possible anymore ). "I don't have to try to assure you that everything will be fine when you don't even appreciate it," you said angrily.

"No, honey." Renjun put your bag aside and got on his knees. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I appreciate that you are trying to help me, I do. I just don't want anything to happen to you or the baby. We're almost at the finish line." let's say he somehow apologized with this.

"Hmm... Okay." you pouted and looked at him.

"Do you need help?" by the look on your face he knew you need his help but he had to ask you if you even want his help in the first place; who knows, maybe you're still angry at him.

"Yes, please." you nodded and Renjun was already on his feet grabbing your hands and helping you to stand up. Both of you had a little struggle but it worked out and you are standing once again; yay! "Thank you." you gave him a small smile that could also be considered an apologetic one.

"You're welcome, Y/N." he smiled at you and kissed you on the cheek. "Now, you will get on the bed and let me treat you like the queen you are. You won't lift a finger for the rest of the day," he ordered you and you did what he told you to do.

"Renjun, you should be in the bed with me and just rest," you told him when you were on the bed. "We don't a tired daddy when the time comes, am I right baby?" you stroke your pregnant belly and as an answer, your baby kicked. "Even the baby agrees with me." you smiled.

"Okay." he soon was next to you. "But if you would see something, just say and I'll get it for you." he kissed your cheek once again.

"Of course, you will get it for me." you slightly smiled and closed your eyes. It was already evening and you become tired.

--

You woke up because of a very strong pain in your lower stomach. You didn't think much of it because you had so many false contractions that you just find it normal by now.

But today was different.

You felt that you peed yourself and because you were ashamed of it, you didn't wake Renjun up and decided to clean it on your own. You stood up from your bed and went to a wardrobe to grab new clean sheets and clean pants for yourself. You came back to your bed and turned a lamp on your side ( the light isn't very strong, so you were sure Renjun won't wake up ), but you didn't expect to see blood on the early white sheets.

"Oh my God!" you dropped everything you were holding. "Renjun? Renjun you need to wake up," you called ou for him so he would wake up. "Renjun!" you raised your voice in panic.

"Huh, Y/N?" he opened his eyes and looked at you. "What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost." of course he had to say something "funny" but you don't have the time for it.

"Renjun, there is blood and my belly hurts," you told him completely frightened now. The pain got much stronger and it scared you. All the talk that you both got this and are prepared for this is long forgotten. "I think it's time," you said in a small voice.

"WHAT?!" he suddenly was on his feet with a panic expression; just like you. "Oh my God, there is BLOOD!" he noticed the stained sheets on your side. "Oh my God." he ran his hand through his hair in act of calming down.

"Renjun," you said his name so he would look at you and he did. He then could see your teary eyes and frightened expression; he knew he need to calm down and be there for you.

"Y/N, everything is okay." he came to your side and hugged you slightly. "We will go to the hospital and welcome our baby soon." he kissed your cheek ( yes, again ).

"O-okay." you breathed out. "We need to take the bag and- OH MY... IT HURTS!" you screamed because of pain and Renjun knew he needs to get you to the hospital as soon as possible. "Renjun, it's hurt so much," you complained with tears running down your face.

"Y/N, try to breathe, okay?" he stroked your side and then helped you downstairs where he grabbed his car keys and then helped you to sit in his car. He went to the other side, started the car, and drove to the hospital.

Everything seemed fine until the car just stopped.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Renjun angrily screamed and punched the stirring wheel in front of him. "This can't be happening, come on!"

"Renjun, why did we stop?" you asked him and looked outside. "We are not at the hospital, yet." now you looked at him. You weren't even close to the hospital; you were on road in the middle of the forest and to top it, it's the middle of the night.

"Something happened with the car but I'll make it work again," he assured you and went out to do something. You couldn't focus on what he was saying because the pain didn't let you ( and the screams that left your mouth ).

"RENJUN!" you screamed very loudly so he would hear you and also because of a very, very strong contraction. "Renjun I think... I think I need to push!" you said, panicking once again. This is not how you two planned this for sure; this wasn't even one of those possibilities.

"Y/N, now?" he opened the door on your side and asked the stupidest question ever.

"Yes, now, you idiot!" you glared at him. "Get me on the backseat, Renjun. I need to- UGH!" your screaming could be heard probably on the other side of the world, yet no one could be found to help you in this situation.

"Yeah, yeah... Backseat," he mumbled to himself and helped you on the backseats of his car. You somehow knew what to do, so when you were seated in the back, you took off your pants and underwear.

"Y-Y/N, what are you doing?" Renjun widened his eyes at your action and looked away. "Someone can see you." he reminded you.

"HeRe?!" you were getting annoyed by him. "How can someone see me here when we're in the middle of the forest, Renjun?" you were burning holes in him. "I need to fucking puUUSH!" and you did push.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." he apologized but you didn't care, you were focused on something much more important than his apology. "I'll grab a towel from your hospital bag," he informed you and looked for the bag, but he couldn't find it. "Ehm, Y/N..."

"What?!"

"I think I forgot the bag at home," he told you and looked at you sadly. "I'm very sor-

"YOU LEFT IT AT HOME?!" another scream came out from you and also a push. You could feel the head of the baby and it hurt like hell. "Renjun, help me." and you were fully crying now.

The sudden change of emotions didn't go unnoticed by Renjun, but he didn't question it. He just grabbed your hand and gave it a little squeeze to give you some strength and maybe hope too.

"It'll be alright, Y/N." he smiled at you and got between your legs. It wasn't a nice sight for him ( he will think twice about another baby ) but he did what he had to do; deliver your baby here in his car.

I think it's safe to say that everything went smoothly and your baby was here within an hour; it was such a painful hour but it was worth it.

"Y/N, it's a boy," said Renjun and put your baby in his shirt. He then gave him to you.

"He is beautiful," you said sleepily and in the next few seconds, you fall into the dreamland you deserve.

When you were asleep with your baby on your chest, some car was passing by and luckily stopped to help you two ( actually three now ). It was this middle-aged lady who was very nice and took you to the hospital where they check up on you and your baby boy; don't worry, everything is perfectly fine.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

A/N thank you so much for reading this little story. Hope you liked it and leave a heart ♡

+ thank you so much for this request. It was fun to do!♡

[kichous]

✧･ﾟ:*   baby, you already know

summary. the pack mule with the pink hair looks like he could use an ice water, and you tell him as much. series. history lesson. part one you’re here ! . part two . part three . pairing. itadori yuji x f!reader. past ryomen sukuna x f!reader. warnings. briefly mentioned ---- childbirth, body horror, child murder. word count. 2265.

07.11.23 / read the updated re-release on ao3!

Your manager hates it when people ask for it. ‘Screw you for knowing you can get this for free, instead of buying an overpriced plastic bottle from the cooler below the pastries.’ You can only imagine what he might think of you independently giving an ice water away, which is why you’re thankful he’s in the back room using what remains of his little pea brain to come up with next week’s schedule. He’d probably rip your head off for wasting a cup — for a refresher! an iced latte! iced coffee, even! — on a cute guy.

You’ve had your eye on the manspreader at the corner table, surrounded by at least a dozen shopping bags, for ages. The sunlight filtering through the lightly tinted windows behind him gives his pink hair almost an angelic glow. The fact that he actually managed to nab a table (albeit one with only a single seat) during rush means he must actually have God watching over him too.

And he’s really cute, and you’re a fifteen year-old girl. Sue you.

The real problem arises when your fingers touch. But let’s backtrack to the first moment you saw him.

It’s two weeks before summer break.

You barely managed to get permission to get a job, and that’s likely because your homeroom teacher is really trying to be one of those caring, involved ones from the American TV shows she loves so much. You fudged the paperwork a bit and said that you’re older than you are. You’ve been working at this job for about four months now, and every time you clock in, you think to yourself, ‘I wanna quit.’

It’s a Sunday, and people have nothing better to do with their free time than get a sweet, sweet cavity-inducing drink while waiting out the busy crosswalks outside. A busker with a makeshift drum set plays and sing-speaks loudly outside. You can’t hear him, but you can tell from the wide berth people are giving him that he’s being obnoxious.

Facing the blenders as you clean, pour, pump, scoop at the speed of light, you don’t see the three of them coming in. Twenty minutes later, your coworker announces she’s going on lunch, and you leap at the chance to take her place at the register. The trio bickers as they step up to the counter in unison. Really, like they all step forward with their right legs at once.

The tall one with the dark hair orders first, and your little ‘ooh, pretty customer’ gets drowned out by your judgment at his quite boring drink. The girl adds six different things to her white mocha latte, a recipe you just know she found online somewhere. And then the third guy, carrying three bags (UNIQLO, Hikarie, and ZARA, same as when you first touch) slides a juice box over for you to scan.

‘What are you, like six?’

He pays, using the shopping bags to muscle his companions out of the way, and for a moment you feel a little bad for being so mean, even if he hadn’t heard you. You hand him back the juice box and the trio moves off to the side to wait for their drinks. You don’t speak to them for the rest of the day, as the line remains endless even after you clock out. Closing is at 4am, after all.

The second time you meet, he orders the same drink as the girl did last time. You get his name then, Yuji, and you ask which characters he uses in a flirtatious manner that flies directly over his pretty head. He doesn’t notice because he reads his order directly from his phone, but he smiles at you when you hand him his change, and that makes your heart flutter. You walk over to the espresso machine with his cup and the shift lead rolls her eyes at you.

“Bye, Yuji,” you tell him when you slide his drink over to him. He must finally hear the lilt in your voice, because he pauses, glances down at your chest, and then thanks you by name.

“You should just ask him out,” your coworker said as he left, and so that’s why you’re now handing him the cup of ice water.

Your apron draped over your arm, you double check in the mirror that your zipper is up and that you’re not covered in syrup stains before you make your way across the busy store to him. It’s July now, just shy of three weeks when you first laid eyes on him, and the most interaction you’ve had is him waving at you when he passes into the bookstore with his friends. The dark and broody one doesn’t always buy something, which is why they often duck in and out and why it’s only now that you’ve gotten him alone. And on your lunch break, no less.

“Hi, Yuji,” you say eloquently, heat rocketing across your cheeks when his head snaps up at the sound of your voice. He’d been dozing off, his chin drifting closer and closer to his chest over the past fifteen minutes. That he’d perked up at all was a good sign, right? Unless he was always this nice. Which is still a good thing, but you’ve always been a little self-centered.

“Hey,” Yuji says. He scoots the bags over and leans across the way to ask for a chair from a family of three, dragging it over to the other side of his too-small table. “You just got off work?”

“I wish,” you huff as you sit down. You almost set your apron down on the table before you realize it’s sticky on your side. “I’m just on my lunch. Four more hours to go, woo!”

“You’ve got this,” he laughs. “You look like an octopus when you’re on the back line.”

It’s not the most flattering creature to be compared to, but you grin at him nonetheless. You cast a glance around for his friends. You hadn’t seen them at the bar, and they weren’t with him on the second floor, so they could be anywhere in the basement or the four floors above you. Point being — it would take some time to get back to him. So you’re effectively alone, at least for the next five to ten minutes.

You extend your legs, crossing them at the ankles. If you had any idea how to reach him outside of work, you definitely would have picked a cuter outfit for this occasion. A black polo, black pants, and awful, beat-up sneakers don’t exactly scream ‘date me!’ Plus, even a quick glance into the bags at his feet show that he’s close to at least one fashionable girl.

Oh, shit, it didn’t even cross your mind — does he even like girls?

A brow lifts as he says, “Are you okay?” and you feel like an even bigger idiot than you did before. So much for thinking you’d perfected your customer service face. That one businessman who wants this much soy in his drink probably realizes that you think his requests are this much of a pain in the ass but is too polite to complain.

“Yeah, I just forgot if I actually hit submit when I clocked out or not,” you blurt, waving your hands in front of you. The ice in your cup rattles at the motion, a couple droplets of water swishing out of the strawless lid to dot the junction between your thumb and forefinger. “No biggie, just me being… duh, again. Ha.”

“You wanna go and double check?” He’s trying to get rid of you.

“No! No, I’m — I know I did it. I got it. It made a little ding noise, I remember now.” Smooth. Real smooth.

Yuji tilts his head, almost puppy-like. “If you’re sure… I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

After all the trouble you went through to get this job as a high school first-year, he’s right to worry. But here’s the thing — you were lying. And few feelings are worse than someone taking a one-off white lie and running it into the ground, whether they’re trying to suss you out or not. Yuji’s consternation seems genuine. That may be the worst part.

“Don’t worry about me,” you insist, before taking an exaggerated look around. Would it kill you to just be yourself? (Are you kidding? How is that gonna get you a boyfriend?) “Is your girlfriend not around? Or… boyfriend? The one with the crazy hair?”

His eyes go comically wide. “They’re not my — they’re just classmates, that’s all. Dating Nobara…” He shudders, actually full on shakes in hypothetical fear. “No thanks. And I’m not really sure if Fushiguro’s even into that sort of thing. We’re just friends. Do we look like a couple to you?”

“Nah, more of a throuple,” you tease. You laugh as he shakes his head vehemently, patting his forearm. “I’m messing with you. You look like good friends. I just didn’t want to overstep when I asked you out.”

Oh. Well that just sort of slipped out of you, didn’t it?

To his credit, Yuji recovers quickly. His face is tinged pink, but he acts like it isn’t there. Not like you, trying to cover half your face with your hand in an attempt to appear mysterious and suave and totally not mortified. “Well,” he says, lips twitching, “for your information, I am single. So.”

“Good.” This is the part where you say something else. “I got you something, ‘cause you looked tired.”

“You didn’t have to,” Yuji protests, leaning back in his chair. His shoulders float towards his ears as one hand reaches back to scratch absently at his undercut. It isn’t like you went out of your way or anything; it’s freaking water. You dug some ice out of the bin and stood in front of the faucet while your coworker was waiting to make more lemonade, that’s all there is to it. But he’s certainly behaving like you got him a dozen roses or something.

“I insist.” You thrust the ice water at him, sloshing some more onto your hand and onto the table. Half of the ice is melted, and it clacks pitifully against the plastic. You chuckle, more out of pure instinct than anything else. “Consider it a courting gift.”

Yuji laughs. Gosh, you’d love to hear it again. Every day possibly. For the rest of your life. Wouldn’t that be nice? “Cool. My dowry is water and solid water.”

“Dowry is for marriage,” you snort. “This is my equivalent of picking you up in a limo for a night out at Makudo. Which, by the way — the Mega Mac? Perfection.”

“Are you allowed to advertise other restaurants at work?”

“Probably not, but I’m off the clock anyway.” As Yuji reaches out to take the cup, his fingers close over yours. It’s an innocent touch, though it’s one that has your heart racing nonetheless. Electricity crackles through you —

But not in the good way.

Terror creeps into your every pore as your mind races back to over a thousand years ago.

Scratchy grass beneath you, long hair spilled across the ground as you lay next to a stable boy with big dreams. Heavy makeup on your face and even heavier clothes on top of your frame as you looked up at a man fifteen years your senior, your hand promised to him the moment you were born. Agony, your lower half splitting apart, tears, the smell of iron in the air, and then two little tiny babies placed into your arms, their cries still ringing in your ears. The stable boy’s body warm against you as he promised he’d never let anyone hurt you again. His laughter as your father called him the King of Curses. Your husband’s fury and your sons pressing themselves into your arms, your pleas for him to believe you, that you had been faithful. Your father, still bearing scars from his fight with the Two-Faced Specter, saying he has no daughter.

The unnatural bend of your arm at the bottom of the ravine, numbness gravitating up your legs. You look over to the left to find very little of you there, bone sticking out of the stump of your shoulder. Your boys have stopped whimpering for you, stopped begging for their father’s forgiveness. They are silent and still, like broken dolls. They were only eight years old. The King of Curses hovers over you, bloodlust radiating out of him. You beg him not to do anything rash. To take that rage inside of him to turn it into good, the good you knew he once possessed, the good he just had to strive for — good he was capable of. Your last sight, one of his four hands reaching to close your eyes for the last time.

Whose memories are these? you wonder. They have to be yours. How else would they come so vividly?

You come back to yourself and find Yuji staring at you with concern. One of the markings at the corners of his eyes cracks open, and a red orb swivels to bore holes into you. Goosebumps appear over your arms. It’s almost 29 degrees, and the AC does nothing with all of the bodies packed into the building.

You must be in the sweltering pits of hell, as evil itself sees you and remembers you.

Pure malevolence cracks a sly grin. Its vessel is none the wiser.

[honestlyandrogynousnightmare]

Arthur in Sins of the father...

Fyi, prepare for grammatical errors because beta reading just isnt my thing..by that i mean im lazy but yknow

I have to say, this is probably one of my favourite episodes ever. Not only is it actually well written, its focused on Arthur and how much he misses his mother and Bradley did an incredible job in this episode. 

I like how Arthur centric it is. Most episodes do end up revolving around Merlin (well no shit sherlock the show is called merlin) but having this episode focus on Arthurs struggles is a nice change and gives us a better view into his character as well as gives us a glimpse of what Arthur would be like without his fathers brainwashing.

What this episode highlights more than anything is how much Arthur wants to meet his mother. All his life he has been told to obey his father and not trust sorcerers and then the moment a sorceress mentions that she knew his mother Arthur goes against both of those things just to meet her. It doesnt matter what lengths he has to go to, he still does everything he can for that one conversation and i think that shows just how much he wants that maternal figure in his life, even if its for a few seconds. In all honesty, i would say he’s pretty desperate by this point. His father never mentions his mother or anything about her so so he cant even paint a picture of her in his brain which just makes him want to meet her more. In those moments when hes going after Morgause, we kind of see a different side of him, because for once in his life he has a chance to learn something about his mother. And you just cant blame him for being so desperate at this point. We dont see much of this, but Arthur grew up without that love every other child experiences, not even from his own father. Someone in his position cant spare time for feelings, and that key ideology that his father drilled into his head remained there from childhood onwards. Having this one chance to know something about the person his mother was, isnt something he could let himself miss.

Another thing he is bound to be feeling is guilt. The first instance is being the cause of his mothers death. Before he found out about the magic thing, it wouldve been so easy to jump to the conclusion that his birth caused is mothers death as she died in childbirth (or as he was told). But after he was told that he was born of magic, i think that while part of him blamed his father for not reading the fine print on the contract (i dont know who came up with that joke, it for sure wasnt me), he still blamed himself because the creation of his life is what took his mothers life away. Not only that, but at the end of the episode when Merlin told him that the illusion was fake, its clear enough that he feels guilty for almost killing his damn father, trusting a sorceress in the first place and also disobeying  his father. 

And back onto the whole thing about Arthur being desperate, he trusted a random woman (and i repeat, a sorceress) about knowing his mother. Not only that but he fully believed the illusion. Idk this just makes me so sad because he had that little spark of hope, not only about meeting his mother but also believing that not all sorcerers are evil. He didnt question these things, he went straight into them, which to me just again shows how desperate and hopeful he was at that point. 

Obviously all of that was completely crushed when he attempted to murder his father and then merlin told him that it was all a lie butttt lets backtrack a little. 

What i love about this episode more than anything is that is shows us that Arthur isnt completely brainwashed (using that word again because synonyms requre effort) by his father, he doesnt hang on every word that is told to him by Uther and all it takes to convince him that his father is wrong is one illusion.Him fighting with Uther and, even for that short period of time, believing that magic isnt evil, gives us an insight into the person he is. Hes not a bad person. He may be naive and ignorant because of the way he was brought up but  if he was educated properly as a child then he wouldnt agree with his father so much. The question everyone always asks is what would happen if merlin hadnt stepped in? i think its fair to say that Arthur wouldnt hate magic so much and maybe the whole golden age of albion would actually happen, but arthur would be miserable. i think thats the main thing that pushed merlin to lie again, because by that point in the series its obvious that he doesnt fight for magic, he fights for arthur. Like yeah arthur saying that magic is evil at the end of the episode does clerly crush merlin but i dont think he would be able to live with Arthur being so miserable and guilt ridden over killing his father. Either way, this is about arthur and not merlin (though ill probably write a paragraph on that sooner or later) so let me pose you the final question (that i will also answer because im here to spread my unwanted opinions).

Is this entire episode pointless for arthurs character development  or not. 

when i first asked myself this question, the obvious answer was yes, because arthur went full circle. from hating sorcery to still hating it in the end. But what i later considered is that even if he went full circle, there was a journey he had to endure. If anything, he hates sorcery even more now simply because he first hand witnessed a sorceress “lie” to him for her own gain and to try to destroy the kingdom. All those things his father taught him about sorcery are essentially happening, and the fact that he was lied to about a sensitive subject like his mother, would just make the situation worse for him.

The thing about arthur and sorcery, is that he is never actually able to find his own stance on it. People manipulate him back and forth, whether thats Uther, agravane, morgana, morgause, random magical enemies of camelot who think starting war and conflict will make arthur hate sorcery less, everyone manipulates him and drags him into different directions. He never makes that opinion himself. Idrk, this isnt even relevant but im on a roll of pointing out sad things so whoohooo

So what is my point? If this hadn't happened, maybe Arthur would have an easier time making his own judgement and stance on magic, but of course its bbc merlin and we cant have happy endings.

Welp hope you enjoyed this rollercoaster of emotions, have a lovely evening ..or day?

Either way. As always. I blame uther

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Remade AU List for BNHA. Whoa boy.

I decided ONLY to do ones I would love to work on myself for fun because like… dude, WE MADE SO MANY HOLY SHIT.

Relative AUS

These are AUs where Izuku’s related to *inster character*. Mostly parents.

Izuku Many Dads: AU where Izuku’s mom goes to a sperm bank as she is AroAce and wants kids. The sperm bank is a front for a shady buisness where a branch of the HPSC is trying to breed new heroes by using sperm collected from heroes who are worried about injuries making them unable to have kids in the future. Sperm is collected during teenage years so we have choices. Would be a Series thing with multiple possibilities and choices.

Aizawa Izuku AU: Aizawa is Izuku’s dad. Pairing is ShinDeku

Izuku has Fire Wings: AU Where Hawks and Dabi had a baby, time travel happens and Izuku is their baby. Pairing Undecided.

Uncle Might: Inko’s long lost brother is none other than All Might. Pairing is ShinDeku and also Inko ends up with Nighteye. All Might is Aro/Ace and loves his sister and nephew

Inko has a Hero SO AU

AUs where Inko gets with a Hero of Some sorts

Kitty Midoriyas: Izuku and Inko have cat Quirks and Aizawa falls for Inko. Pairing is undecided really. Maybe traffic light trio, maybe not.

YamaDad: Inko and Present Mic get together. Izuku remains Quirkless and wants to be the first Quirkless Hero. Shinsou is adopted by Mic and Inko. IidDeku is the pairing I tentatively want but that might change.

Quirk AU

AUS where Izuku has a Quirk

Omega Quirk: Izuku’s Quirk basically has him be like an omega from fanfics. Sorta. Is currently a fanfic as well. Pairing so far undecided. Best friends with Shinsou

Let’s Start a Riot: Izuku has a Quirk that when he screams, he starts riots. Side effects has those affected unable to use their Quirks at all. Uncle Aizawa. Inko is part of a support group for parents of kids with ‘villain’ Quirks. Good Toga, Pairing is MonoShinDeku

Workout Music Enhancement: Izuku’s Quirk is when he listens to music he is able to preform above average. Not to superhuman levels, but when he is like seven he can run as fast as an average 10-year-old. Best friends with Jirou, Pairing is ShinDeku with Side EraserMic

Gender/Sex Swap Quirk: Izuku is able to swap between male and female. Is genderfluid and stills gets OFA. Pairing: AoyDeku

Nothing Unique: AU where a scout for hero schools goes to Aldera as a punishment duty and discovers that Izuku is highly intelligent. The basis of the AU is that Quirks aren’t Unique and most schools prefer things like brains not related to Quirks. Also, a person with a Quirk similar to AFO is around and works with the Thailand Government and Izuku gains a Quirk publicly. 

Magic Baby AU: Izuku has a Quirk that lets him have kids. Full explanation Here

Selkie AU: Magic made Quirks and Izuku’s dad was a Selkie. Has Izuku discovering this, Inko going to jail and Izuku being taken in by vampire Aizawa and his husband Mic.

Support Izuku AU (title pending): Izuku is able to boost people’s Quirks and gains strength from those he is bonded with.

Fake Quirk AUs

Izuku Fakes a Quirk AUs

Glitter Izuku: Izuku ends up covered in Glitter one day and says it’s his Quirk Sarcastically. People believe it. He rolls with it and then claims that he produces it every night while sleeping. Showers with glitter to make it look realistic. Becomes a Hero. No Pairing Yet

Analysis Izuku: A new doctor after the toe joint is proven fake helps Inko fake that Izuku has an analyst Quirk to protect him. Izuku’s mentor ends up Nezu and he becomes a Hero. Pairings undecided, keep changing mind.

Mimic Izuku: Thanks to his observation abilities and focus, Izuku is able to mimic people fairly well. Ends up claiming it’s his Quirk after a while. He gains amazing acting skills and fools a lot of people. Pairing: ShinDeku

Fem!Izuku AUs

Aus where Izuku’s a girl.

Lesbian Izuku: A series where F!Izuku is gay and has a variety of girlfriends. Usuaully I get to cause pain to other characters with One Sided Feelings

Betrothal Verse: AU Where F!Izuku is able to have a powerful child and ends up in an arranged marriage. Is a series. Pairings are: Iideku, TodoDeku, TokoDeku, ShinDeku and HawksDeku.

Quirkless AUs

AUs where Izuku remains Quirkless

Izuku Mode: AU where Izuku is aged up and went to UA with Aizawa and them. Is a fashion designer who also does hero costumes thanks to All Might choosing him. Has AiDeku and ToshInko. Follows Canon, just with Izuku coming in.

Another Idol: During an international hero fighting competition, Izuku discovers that there are Quirkless heroes in other countries thanks to one of the finalists being Quirkless. Izuku gains another idol fast here.

Pastel Izuku: TodoDeku AU where Izuku is a soft pastel boy whose stepdad is Tsukauchi and Shouto was taken by Dabi when he left. Tsukauchi picks up Shouto, and the famous: Is he cute joke happens. Izuku does meet Shouto and ends up with him. Izuku is Quirkless and ends up in UA. Shouto and Dabi aren’t villain villains here but are criminals.

Izuku’s Boyfriends: Uhhh, older Izuku where he ends up with Dabi/Shiggy/Overhaul. It’s more of a rambling idea of mine where he is older, is trans and has a kid and like… okay I dunno. It’s just me having fun. Series

Raising Kacchan: Izuku is older and is raising Bakugou. He ends up at UA where he teaches the hero course kids. Shinsou, Hawks and Tensei all like him and are interested (Shinsou aged up). Dabi also has an interest due to Izuku being behind Endeavor losing his hero license.

Babies

AUs where someone has a kid

Stone Cold Sober AU: Izuku is an Omega and the doctor who declared him Quirkless discovers he has OFA as he works with AFO. OFA users who carried kids have like super powerful children so the doctor takes the chance to experiment by using sperm stolen from a hero sperm bank to try and impregnate Izuku. Would be a series with multiple possible parents of the kid.

Older Sister AU: Izuku has an older half-sister who comes to Japan when their dad dies. Both are Quirkless. Has Bad Inko who leaves and sister is now in charge of Izuku. Sister is a stripper who becomes an informant for underground heroes. Izuku is trans and has a kid due to a shitty boyfriend. Still gets OFA, I… I don’t think I gave it a pairing. DOes have OC/Aizawa

Dad Izuku: Izuku is a single dad. Mother died in childbirth. Has Inko be a terrible mother who wanted to sell Izuku to Overhaul. Overhaul leans about OFA, Izuku is taken in by All Might. Izuku is raising his kid and is happy, thank you.

[mirandalinotto]

Why I hate the CAOS video essay that came out a week ago

Did anyone else get extremely angry at the way Friendly Space Ninja discussed all of the female characters in CAOS? like, don't get me wrong... I understand most of the points he's making, and agree with a lot of what he says in the video essay (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina: A Frustrating Waste of Potential), but when he speaks about Zelda, Lilith, Prudence, and Rosalind, I don't know... i just get a bad vibe. It's like he's doing a "bad faith” analysis, and it bothers me, because CAOS has so many parts to validly criticize, and yet he missed the mark more often than he hit it, in my humble opinion.

He basically says the same thing over and over again: that the actors were good, but the characters were bad, because they were all boring, shallow, and one-note, or whatever... and it's like... dude? of all the things you could say (especially about Zelda and Lilith in particular), the characters being “boring" isn't really the biggest criticism one ought to have of this show...?!? and it isn't even accurate?

Like why aren't you criticizing the trauma porn? Why aren't you criticizing the butchering of Lilith's mythology? Why are you ignoring all of the character development that does happen (particularly with regard to Zelda, whom he actively seems to hate) in favor of insisting none of these characters have an arc? It’s not beneficial to anyone if you’re going to criticize a show’s characters by actively misrepresenting them!

Which brings me to my next point: one of the things that bothered me the most was just how surface-level his analysis was. You could tell he hadn’t watched the show in a while, and clearly wasn’t interested in celebrating any part of it—which is okay, if you just want to roast Roberto for an hour, be my guest—but why does it feel like this video essay was the YouTube video equivalent of writing a book report on a novel you only skimmed…? He made a lot of generalizations that made it seem like he only watched the first season, and then paid no attention to the rest.

For example, some of his arguments are just so random and insignificant? Like why does he make shallow observations the basis of whole arguments about characters, such as when he goes on about how Zelda says 'Praise Satan' too much and “it got old"...?!?! Like what kind of bullshit analysis is that...? How is that even close to being something worthy of talking about in a video essay that is an hour and twenty minutes long...? Why are you taking such a trivial aspect of her character and making it a talking point in a video that is already much longer than it needs to be?

And while I agree with what he said about Lilith's motivations being inconsistent/unclear at times, and that Zelda's character growth wasn't as linear or developed as it could be, it really feels like he didn't even try to understand these characters at all. I realize I'm biased, because all I do is try to understand them and explain their motivations... but still! If you're making a video about the wasted potential of CAOS, why do you immediately dismiss almost the entire female cast, pretty much out of hand, when they're the foundation of the show...? They ARE the potential?! The good parts about them ought to have been given some credit? Like why does he fail to acknowledge all of the trauma these female characters went through that very much informs their decisions, and instead makes it sound like nothing the characters do make sense? While I might not always agree with every choice these characters made, there usually is something driving them to do whatever it is they’re doing, and particularly in the case of Lilith and Zelda, it’s not that hard to understand why they make irrational decisions sometimes, when they’re literally surrounded by abusers and everything is constantly blowing up in their faces.

Also, something smaller that really pisses me off is that he includes Zelda sending Blackwood out of the room during the birth of the twins as an example of the show's misandry and "bad feminism," but that's literally not what that moment is about? If he stopped to think about it for a moment, the moment is perfectly logical. Zelda is a midwife, who was most likely trained in the 1800s, when men literally weren't meant to be around when the the birth happened, so how is she being a misandrist just by doing what she’s been taught, especially when they’re all in a crisis situation? Men not being allowed in the room is an established part of the history of women’s health/childbirth, and it isn’t exactly obscure knowledge! Men used to be forced/asked to sit in the waiting room during labor, and before that, when home births were the status quo, midwives definitely wouldn’t allow men in the room as a matter of course. In fact, it wasn't until the 1970s that men being in the delivery room became a more normalized practice. So, men being present/witnessing a birth is a far more "modern" thing than I think people realize, and the exclusion of them from the delivery room has absolutely NOTHING to do with women hating men...? like fuck off with that “misandry” argument, in this instance. do some research before you start reaching that far, so as to act like Zelda was being hateful for simply following “industry standards,” if you want to call it that. There are medical articles that still come out to this very day that argue that no one should be in the delivery room besides the person giving birth and the doctors and nurses, because the husband/partner often gets in the way and distracts the medical team at critical moments. (Also men tend to faint or get sick at the sight of the birth, which then forces the team to split their focus in order to see to the unconscious man on the floor.)

And don't get me started on the anti-Zelda rant he goes on towards the end!! While I agree very much that Zelda is a flawed character, he uses an example of her degrading Hilda that isn't even something she actually did?! It's from a dream sequence!?!?!? like dude, did you even watch these episodes/scenes before you talked about them?!? He uses the example of dream-Zelda criticizing Hilda's appearance as a reason why Zelda is such a bitch, and I'm like... seriously? that literally wasn't her? just because Zelda said it in Hilda's nightmare, doesn't mean Zelda said it in real life, and should be criticized for it...?!

But yes, Zelda is abusive to her sister, and classist, and rude, and many of the things that he says--but when he tries to argue that because she's a woman, nobody cares that she's like that, and it’s a problem, because that’s evidence of more misandry… that’s where he loses me. He sees it as yet another issue with Roberto's writing—that he gives qualities that would be condemned in a male character to a female character, and allows that woman to be one of the "good guys" ...but yet again, dude... you're completely missing the point?!? Women are allowed to be flawed, without you seeing it as some gross failure of feminism?

He also at one point claims that Zelda resents Ambrose, and hates having him around, when I would argue Zelda actually really values Ambrose and has a close relationship to him...? Like did we even watch the same show?

I didn't expect to get this heated about a video essay that made a lot of other points that I agreed with (mainly the dragging of Roberto parts). But in my opinion, this guy got really offended by Roberto's fake feminism (which is valid), but then proceeded to tear down all of the female characters for an hour and twenty minutes straight...?! All he did was talk about how they're all misandrists and shallow characters and therefore the show isn't worth watching? like okay... but here's the thing... plenty of women have made it through shows that have misogyny at their very core, and have still managed to find the good points...? Game of Thrones is like the most popular show of all time, even though there's misogyny in every aspect of it, for historical “realism" purposes (*rolls eyes*). Zelda and Lilith's defining qualities aren't solely related to hating men, so it really pisses me off that he made it seem like that's all that shapes them, and that every time they insult or manipulate a man, it’s completely unjustified.

idk. I feel like I just watched an 83-minute roast on a show I love despite it's flaws, and that roast wasn’t mostly focused on all of the biggest flaws that I would’ve brought up, but rather on how all of the female characters are terrible and their misandry makes the show unwatchable.

So let me get this straight: you're hating on the female characters... in order to show how much of a feminist YOU are, as opposed to Roberto...?

Wow. Much feminism. Very enlightened analysis.

[initiumseries]

Hey! I love your thoughts on bad tv and I’d love to hear a series wrap up on CAOS if you want to make a post about it. If not no worries and thanks for posting your thoughts on the show over the last year. Loved them and love your blog too!

Thank you!! Sure I can totally do a series wrap up, pretty much right now, in response to this ask. 

So, if I had to distill my issues with this series into a few bullet points it would be: 

-plot -world building/continuity -characters

Plot

CAOS struggles with plot, and I think the biggest reason why, is they just seemed to completely lose track of what the hell they were doing lol. Season 1, ends up being the tightest season because the plot was simple: Sabrina’s dark baptism and her leaving her mortal life behind to become one with witchkind. They beat us to death with the Satan stuff, and they cram as much corny imagery as possible in, even if it doesn’t really make sense. 

why are they having class in a hallway? Do witches not use technology? Why is that blackboard so small? Why isn’t this just a normal classroom setting?

Sabrina’s Season 1 character arc is also clear: she decides, fuck the rules, she’s going to straddle both worlds and everyone’s just gonna have to accept it. It’s not good, but it’s clear. S2, 3, 4 get completely lost in all this other weird stuff. Sabrina is actually not her father’s daughter, but Satan’s, and that plotline goes absolutely nowhere when Sabrina conveniently doubles herself (and experiences 0 consequences for it) and rules hell while also staying in Greendale as herself (seriously, it’s not like satan was dying or anything, he was perfectly fine. For what reason did Sabrina need to become Queen? There’s no answer or explanation for that, she just...did. Ok :/).  Father Blackwood goes apeshit and pulls a Jonestown, for no real reason, CAOS starts leaning heavily into this white feminism stuff (for godsake, the coven kills a DEMON, with the fucking pain of childbirth?! Are you SERIOUS??) Then, s3, it’s about losing their powers because Satan is childish and petty, and a new group of spellcasters are out to kill the witches, and Prudence and Ambrose hunting Blackwood. S4, the eldritch terrors, which honestly, make so little sense, I couldn’t even be bothered. Each season, CAOs falls deeper into the trap of trying to up the ante, make the danger BIGGER, WILDER, more insurmountable, while being completely unprepared to stay consistent with their characters/motivations and undercutting their own BIG ideas with stupid, nonsensical solutions (let me trap this all powerful eldritch terror by taking it to a party, proposing and luring it into a magicked dollhouse...wtf?). 

Worldbuilding/Continuity

What I hate most about these writers for Riverdale and CAOS is that they just don’t feel beholden to being consistent in their worldbuilding and continuity. I don’t find anything cool about kids living in houses with old tvs and rotary phones, but then having a cell phones or wearing modern clothes. Historical anachronisms like that should serve a purpose. 

It COULD be interesting if the conceit is that Zelda and Hilda are OLD, so they take comfort in old things like that, but then that should be specific to the Spellman house, and it should be weird. People should take note of it when they’re there, Sabrina should be conscious of it because she grew up in a time where TVs didn’t look like they were stuck in the 50s. But instead, it’s just...a stupid mess of aesthetic anachronisms for no reason other than they can do it and I just find that to be lazier than utilizing those details in an interesting way. 

In season 1, we get a relatively clear idea that the witches have a certain way of life, that bleeds into season 2. It’s still very sloppy; the anti-pope, using satan where we’d use “god”, introducing the feast and other dangerous parts of being a witch, and essentially just doing the opposite of christianity (except for the racism/sexism ofc. That would require too much thinking I guess). But by season 3, essentially the witches’ way of life have been completely turned upside down. And we never...unpack that. There’s no mourning for literal millennia of supposed tradition, there’s no real floundering or struggling. There are apparently no other adults AT ALL in this magical world outside of Blackwood, Zelda and Hilda, so there’s no real way to get a sense of the REALITY of losing their way of life for these witches, or this world. Is it even a world? Or just a handful of people? Lol. What it means to have to choose a new god to pray to, and is there an divisiveness over who? In Harry Potter, the kids’ parents are tangentially involved when they start pulling their kids out of Hogwarts. Do any of these kids’ parents pull them out of the school when they start praying to Lilith and then Hecate? Do any of the boys have issues with moving from a male god to a female one? Where did all these kids come from if they didn’t have parents and families? Is this witch world just...the school? Why? It would have been interesting watching the witches struggle and scramble to regain their powers while also being hunted by this new, threatening group whose magic seems to be much older, much darker. But instead, they just pivot, and have a fucking picnic before the full moon. 

There’s nothing interesting about characters just constantly pivoting around obstacles without having any real emotional reaction, any real struggles. Obstacles like losing their powers, should be an actual obstacle. They should struggle, there should be emotional weight, and consequences. Instead, Sabrina continues to break rules to suit her agenda, put her friends and family and risk and everyone just...rolls with it. No one is angry at Sabrina for the loss of their powers? Her choice to not become Queen of hell is why they lost their powers right? No one has feelings about that? Sabrina isn’t ostracized? We never see the way these choices, or the overarching plot obstacles impact the characters emotionally. Instead, they’re doing this stuff:

Which is completely ridiculous to me. It all just...HAPPENS. Which is this entire series. Stuff happens, and the characters just, do stuff in reaction to it. Harvey, Theo and Roz are ostensibly human, living human lives. They end up getting pulled into Sabrina’s world, and no one has any strong feelings about that? Harvey’s brother is killed, Roz is turned to stone and Theo talks to his dead great aunt and none of them are haunted by any of that? No? They just decide to create a faux scooby club to fight demons?  Ok. And that cheerleading things is over as quickly as we see it. Stuff like this is insanely frustrating to watch because it makes the show a nonsensical slog to sit through. There’s nothing interesting or engaging to latch onto because they just hammer through it all and make up stupid solutions to get themselves out of the impossible stakes they threw the characters in in the first place. They introduce ideas and discard them just as quickly. An ex:angels show up, start killing people, Sabrina channels satan and kills them, and then that’s the last of those guys. Metatron (jfc even the name is stupid) shows up and is killed just as quickly.  Why bother introducing them then? Why bother do any of the things you’re currently doing in this show if you have no intention of seeing it through? 

Characters 

No one on this show gels, at all.  I don’t believe Theo/Roz/Harvey/Sabrina have been friends for ages. I don’t believe Sabrina and Nick are “end game” (why the hell do we keep saying this riverdale? It’s stupid and senseless). I don’t believe any of these relationships at all. Part of this is because the cast have no chemistry with each other:

they do not look like a friend group or couples at all, these are a bunch of people paired together.

But also because they weren’t consistent at all. 

Father Blackwood went from a witch/warlock purist, to a raging sexist, to a cult leader who killed his followers, to a raging maniac bent on hitler-esque destruction in 4 seasons...for nothing. It served no purpose. He didn’t even DO anything. He was nice to the Eldritch Terrors, and became immortal...for nothing. He killed the coven, for nothing. He killed his wife in childbirth, for nothing. Zelda stole the baby, for nothing. None of that amounted to anything worth while in the entire series. So what was the point?  Zelda marrying Faustus also made no sense and only happened to show JUST how sexist he was! But why? WHY? We don’t receive explanations for character behaviour, and when we do, it still makes no sense. 

Sabrina breaks all these rules and experiences ZERO consequences. At all times, and it makes her a terrible main character. Everyone else abides by the rules but she doesn’t and doesn’t have to pay for that? Why? She straddles both worlds instead of committing to one, and that was the closest we got to seeing consequences for her. Everyone rushes in to help Sabrina break rules instead of holding her accountable for feeling above them. Sabrina creates 2 versions of herself, and they sloppily tie in that all the realms are converging in on each other because of what she did. Except she and Sabrina Morningstar had been hanging out...ostensibly for days/weeks/months (who knows? Not this show!) before we saw any potential issues, and then we end up finding out that this is about the next eldritch terror, not about Sabrina existing as a double in 1 universe. People get upset for a second and then move on to help her. So why have rules in this world at all if it means nothing to break them? 

Nick goes through literal hell, and immediately cheats on Sabrina because of how a man made of clay looked at her. That’s laughable to me. It makes no narrative sense. Their relationship doesn’t even make sense.

Roz and Harvey spend 90% of their time almost fucking. It’s bizarre. Their getting together was random and every single scene with them alone in it is like a precursor to fucking and I don’t get why. This show does not grasp how to build up relationships. Also do these kids not have parents? Theo and Harvey stay having constant sleepovers with their respective partners, in their parents’ houses? Really? At seventeen? Lol k. 

I feel like, if CAOS were better thought out, it could have actually been interesting. But it was just a smorgasbord of stuff happening, and characters doing stuff, and none of that following in any real narrative way. Storytelling has structure for a reason, and a show with a good story structure usually yields an enjoyable watching experience. CAOS is a pretty strong example of how throwing that out and relying so heavily on aesthetics and still taking the show so seriously it’s not even fun terrible, gets you nowhere. Ultimately I’m glad it’s over.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ A BABY IS COMING ❜

Headcanon

with Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas.

Request: I LOVE THE BABY ON BOARD WITH GILLY SO MUCH I WAS WONDERING IF I CAN REUQEST THE SAME HEADCANNON BUT WITH CREEPER??!!

BY @imanerdychubbyqueen

Warnings: appearance of a LGTBI character (I don't think that this needs a warning, but if you think that I need to warn it because bothers you the appearance of a LGTBI character, please, unfollow me, thank you). 🏳️‍🌈❤✨

Word count: about 1.4k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on google.

Masterlist.

Whilst Bishop, Tranq, Taza and Riz were extremely Happy knowing that Creeper and you were expecting a baby, the guys just made jokes.

“Man, you are a fuckin child, how is supposed that you're gonna take care of a baby?”

“Did she really let you get her pregnant? Or was it a ball to the goal?”

“'Am sure cops are gonna stop you, if they see you with a baby, carnal. They will think you stole it or somethen'”.

Creeper didn't care about their opinion, but about yours.

“What do you think, ah?”

You were three months pregnant, and you were pretty excited and stressed at the same time, choosing some names, even if you didn't know yet if it was going to be a girl or a boy.

“Sorre, mama, I wasn't listening”.

“Something bothering you, papi?”

“Nah, you know… just the guys being fucking assholes”.

“Neron, you're gonna be the best dad ever and I don' need to tell you why. I just know it. You trust me, rai'?”

The gender reveal was simply amazing.

All the charters came. Your husband was erratic placing his motorbike in front of all, because the answer was inside the exhaust pipe. It was enough to start the engine and hit the gas. And he did. A blue smoke flooded the yard, between loud cheerings, hugs and kisses. Leaving away his motorcycle, Creeper ran to you, lifting you up between his arms screaming how happy he was. Actually, he didn't care about the gender, he would be this excited knowing it was a girl too.

He used to spend his free time assembling all the bedroom furniture, finding him sleeping a lot of time on the floor with the instructions on his chest.

Every night, he lied down over your belly, carefully to not hurt you, to sing him his favorite songs because the doctor said that it was good to talk to him.

He didn't care about what time it was whenever you had a craving. If he was in bed, he just jumped out of it. And if he was with the club, Chuckie was in charge of it. Everyone was delighted with the idea of having a new member.

In childbirth, he was the most supportive man on earth, holding your hand and filling your face with a bunch of gentle kisses.

And you have never seen him cry, but when the doctor gave him his baby, he was crying more than your son.

“Mama, look”. He said fascinated, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling down a little the Mayans' towel Vicki wove for him.

You were exhausted, feeling pain all over your body and about to fall asleep, doing a last effort to hold your newborn.

“He has your nose”. Creeper chuckled, leaning towards you to kiss your forehead.

The first day of Kid Garden, your husband insisted on bringing the whole crew.

“Okay, Manu, listen”. Neron squatted to his son, placing both hands on his tiny shoulder to put on well his bag. “The mission is to make more than ten friends. If you do it, papa is gonna give you a surprise tonight, deal?”

“Yeah, papa”. He nodded excitedly, before jumping into his father to hug him as strongly as he could.

“Hey, buddy”. Bishop called him, leaning next to your husband. “Don' be a casanova like your dad, ah?”

“What's tha'?”

“Obispo!” You laughed rolling your eyes, lifting up your son between your arms. “Have a good day, mi amorcito”.

“You too, mama. Are you gonna miss me?”

“Of course yes, baby. All the time. But we will pick you up in a couple hours, okay? You just… have fun, make friends and don't forget to eat your lunch”.

“Okay, mama. I love you”.

“I love you too, Manuel”.

“Bye, tíos”. Moving his tiny hand, once he was back to the floor, he ran to his new teacher to come into the school.

“Man… you two do an amazing job, I couldn't”.

“Yeah, Angel. But don't be jealous. You're our baby too”.

But the worst and, at the same time, best day of his life was when he found Manu crying for the first time.

You were standing up close to the door of his room, waiting for Creeper. You had been stalking him for almost thirty minutes, not knowing what to do, but knowing that your husband would know it.

“Hey, mama, what's up?”

“Dunno… He's just… there. Crying”.

“Okay, let's see”. Neron knocked on the door, before coming in, followed by you more worried than ever. It was breaking your heart. “Hey, buddy”.

Your son quickly sat up on his bed, cleaning his tears with the back of his hands and shaking his head. His father dragged the chair over the floor, to sit on and put you on his lap, surrounding your waist with both arms.

“Cariño, you know you can… talk with us about anything, right?” You said carefully, while Creeper placed his chin on your shoulder.

“You will not understand”.

That. That was the sentence that made you understand. Turning to your husband, you smirked at him, before getting up to sit next to your son. And you hug him like never before, kissing his cheek a lot of times until he stopped crying.

“Hey, Manu, listen. We're your parents, and your friends. We will never, ever, judge you. Unless you're gonna tell me you did something bad to an animal”. Creeper's speeches were the best. “Cause you didn't, rai'?”

He shook his head, almost smiling.

“I just… I…” Manu looked at you with his lips trembling, licking them and trying to comfort himself. “I am gay”.

Creeper traveled his gaze from his son towards you, shrugging a little, before sitting by his other side.

“So, what? Anyone told you shit about it?”

“No, no, no… I just… was scared of your reaction”. Bowing his head down, he seems too ashamed.

“I love you more now, than one minute ago. Because you're deciding to live your life as you want. And we're very proud to be your parents, buddy”. Creeper said, pointing his chest, claiming for his attention.

“Yes, baby. And never let anyone tell you what you have to do, or how you have to live your life, you hear me?” You added, while he was raising his head.

“We will always love you, exactly as you are, Manuel. Never forget it, okay?”

Everything has changed since this day. Manu left away all the pain he was feeling because of believing that you wouldn't accept him, to be the most happy boy on earth. He also told it to his tíos, and they had the same reaction. Everyone was proud of him, and supportive to the extreme.

The day that your son told you that he was going to bring his boyfriend for dinner, Creeper was more nervous than you.

“Yo! Mama! Do I look good?” He said turning around so you could see the whole outfit.

“Neron, everyth—”.

Before you could continue talking, you heard the door getting opened and closed, followed by some nervous whispers.

“Oh, shit, they're already here. Okay, mama, keep calm”.

“I'm pretty calmed, papi”. You laughed palming his chest, before going downstairs.

“Hey, mama! This is… Dani”. Your son wasn't expecting you this soon.

“Hi, Dani, welcome home”. You said with a huge and dearly smile on your lips, giving him a warmth hug. “Manu told us a lot about you. It's like if we already meet you”.

“Really? Oh, ah… Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you too”.

“Where's papa…?” He asked somewhat nervously, making you laugh.

“Your father is more edgy than you”. Whispering, you leaned towards them.

“That's not true!” He tried to say, with his voice breaking a little. “What's up, buddy?”

Neron hugged your son tightly, noticing that he seemed as if he was about to cry, before turning to Manu's boyfriend.

“I am… Daniel… Dani”.

“Finally, mate!” Creeper hugged him, palming his back pretty excited. “Yo! Yeah, I'm fuckin' nervous, sorry”.

When you were already sleeping between his arms, after the dinner and a long talk about your family and Dani's family, your husband decided to wake you up at four am.

“Hey, baby… Mama”.

“Fuck, Neron… What the hell do you want?”

“Do you think that Dani likes us?”

“Oh, fuck off, Neron! I was sleeping”.

“Yeah, yeah. But, now that you're not, what do you think?”

“I'm gonna make him don't like you, if you don't let me sleep”.

“Yo! Mama! Why would you do that?” He asked, starting to feel tense and insecure.

“Jesus Christ, papi… He likes us, a lot actually. Dani told me you're pretty cool”.

“Really? Does he think tha'? Damn…”

✨ Tag list:

@starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart @mycupoffanfiction @claytoncardenasbabymama @thesandbeneathmytoes @phoenixhalliwell @thewarriorprincessxo @sugary-x-sweet @multiyfandomgirl40 @imanerdychubbyqueen @iambabyharry @firebenderwolf @itsanofrommesir @noz4a2 @peaches007 @edonaspanca @irenne-stans @skyofficialxx

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Just Fine (Part 2 of Unexpected Reunion)

Here’s the requested 2nd part of “Unexpected Reunion”. *Familiar characters do NOT belong to me!*

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth(not graphic, but still). A couple swear words, if that bothers you. 

Pairings/Characters: Past!Michael Shelby/Gray x fem!reader, Michael Shelby/Gray x Gina Gray, The rest of the Shelby Clan

A few days after your confrontation with Michael, you sat in your flat crying your eyes out. You had refused to talk to anyone as every emotion you felt came pouring out in hot, angry tears. Polly and Finn often came to check on you, but you refused to open the door for them. You loved them, but you couldn’t face them. After about the fourth day, there was another knock on your door.

         "Go away, Pol,“ you called out in a scratchy voice. "Open the door, Y/N,” Arthur’s voice called out. You didn’t reply. He knocked again to no answer. The third time he knocked, another voice said, “Open the door or Arthur will break it down!” You recognized Tommy’s growl and sighed. You knew he was serious. You got up and threw the door open, meeting the faces of Arthur, Tommy, and Ada.

         "What?!“ you snapped. Tommy looked unimpressed and Ada had a look of pity on her face. "Don’t. Don’t do that. I don’t want your pity, Ada. I don’t want any of this. And I’m not sorry I told Michael to go to Hell.” Ada smiled at you before pushing passed her brothers and going to your wardrobe.

         You didn’t get the chance to ask what she was doing before Tommy said, “You’re going to stay with Ada for the duration of your pregnancy.” You arched a brow. “The hell I am. I’m not going anywhere he can just show up whenever he feels like.” Tommy’s eyes never left yours as you continued, “I am not Shelby property that you can do with as you wish, Thomas Shelby!”

         To his credit, Tommy didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even show any signs that he was upset other than a slight tick of his jaw. “No, you’re not. But you are one of us. As is the child. You will be taken care of and protected. If you refuse to stay with Ada, then Polly is an alternative. Or you can take up residence with the Lees. We take care of our own, Y/N. Michael will not be allowed to come ‘round without your permission.”

         You looked between the three Shelbys. They were all waiting for your answer. You met Tommy’s gaze again. “Do you swear?” He nodded without hesitation. After a second, you found yourself agreeing. Ada went back to throwing your clothing in a trunk.

*time skip*

         Months passed quickly and before you knew it, you were eight months gone. You’d had no contact with Michael, but knew Ada had. You’d come home from the market one day to smell the mixture of cologne and cigarettes you knew could only be him. Other than that, there was no sign of him, just as Tommy promised.

         However, as the day you were due to deliver drew closer, you found yourself missing him. You knew it was probably the pregnancy messing with your head but you didn’t care. You needed to clear the air before the baby came. So, you picked up the phone and asked the operator to dial Michael’s number. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t Michael who answered the phone.

         "I need to speak to Michael please,“ you said through gritted teeth when Gina answered the phone. You wanted so badly to tell her exactly what you thought of her, but you didn’t. As she was pregnant as well, you didn’t want to upset her. The baby was innocent after all.

         "He’s out. May I take a message?” You sighed heavily as you ran your hand over your stomach. “Fine. Please tell him Y/N called.” It was silent on the line for a minute, then there was some shuffling, as if she was shifting the phone. “Michael doesn’t want to speak to you, Y/N. He doesn’t care anything for you or that bastard in your belly.” With that, she hung up the phone.

         Anger coursed through your veins like never before. Never before had you truly despised another human being, but you loathed Gina Gray. The front door of Ada’s home burst open, pulling you from your thoughts. Polly frantically ran into the room.

         "What are you doing here, Pol?“ you asked. You were really trying not to take your anger out on her. "Are you alright?” You brows furrowed and you nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I…” you trailed off, meeting her gaze, “Did you have another dream? A vision?” She nodded.

         "Well, don’t worry. I’m fine. Just a little upset.“ No sooner had you finished speaking did you feel a sharp and unexpected pain shoot through your stomach. "No,” you whispered. The pain didn’t lessen despite your refusal to believe what was happening. “Polly?” She gave you a smile as you let out a scream, bringing Ada running.

         "Ada, call Thomas and Arthur. Tell them to get Michael and bring him here. Drag him by the ear or tie him up if they have to.“ Ada nodded and moved for the phone. Polly wrapped an arm around you to help you up to your room. "Ada,” you called back to her. “Yes, love?”

         "Tell Michael to leave his fucking wife at home.“ Ada and Polly both chuckled a little. Polly lead you to your room while Ada placed the calls to her brothers. "I’m not ready, Pol. I’m scared,” you admitted softly. Polly gave your shoulders a squeeze. “You’re gonna be fine, love. Let’s bring your darling girl into the world.”

         "A girl?“ She beamed. "I saw her. A beautiful little girl.” You couldn’t help but smile. The door opened and Ada gave Polly a nod. “Doctor’s on his way. Tommy too. He sent Arthur and Finn for Michael.” You nodded and thanked her as another contraction hit you. You gripped Polly’s hand so tightly, you thought you might rip it off. She hardly seemed fazed though. “Good girl. Breathe.”

         You heard voices drifting your way, one you recognized as Tommy’s. The other was probably the doctor. “Take care of her,” Tommy’s accented voice said just outside the doorway, “I will make sure no one disturbs you.” The doctor’s gaze drifted to the bed and he smiled. “You have my word, Mr. Shelby. Ms. Y/L/N is in good hands.” Tommy stared the man down with that intimidating stare of his, the one you’d been on the receiving end of on more than one occasion. After a moment, Tommy left without a word.

         Time passed so slowly and yet so quickly at the same time while you worked endlessly to bring your little girl into the world. At one point, you heard screaming that was not your own, but Ada quickly left the room, slamming the door behind her, to make the ruckus stop. That left you squeezing the life out of Polly’s hand. You were hot and tired and miserable, but you knew you couldn’t give up. Finally, after what felt like hours, you heard the shrill cry of your newborn baby.

         "A girl.“ The doctor placed her on your chest and you felt like you might cry. "Thank you, Doctor. I’ll get them both cleaned up. And perhaps you would be kind enough to send Thomas up in a few minutes?” The doctor’s brow furrowed and his mouth opened as if he was about to ask if Tommy was the father, but thought better of it.

         "She’s beautiful, Pol,“ you whispered. Polly smiled again. "I knew she would be. Now let’s get you both cleaned up.” You nodded and attempted to shift, but your eyelids felt heavy. Polly laughed and helped you, being careful of the little girl.

         When she was done, she opened the door to let Tommy in. “Alright there, Y/N?” You told him your were fine, just tired. “Good. Michael’s here. Do you want to see him?” You frowned for the first time since you laid eyes on your daughter. “If you don’t, I’ll tell him so. If you do, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Tommy assured you. You contemplated for a moment. “He is her father, Tommy. He-He should see her,” you said softly.

         Michael appeared a couple minutes later, hand in one pocket and an unlit cigarette in the other. “Don’t even think about it, Michael,” you scolded harshly. Michael put the cigarette away as he drew nearer to you and his child. “Girl or boy?”

         "Girl. She looks like you…“ you said, trailing off. He came even closer so he could peer down at her. "She does. A little.” You stayed silent, fighting back tears. What could you say to the man who had broken your heart and rejected your child? What could you say to the one who got another woman he hardly knew pregnant and married her? You thought you were in love. You had been. Apparently Michael hadn’t. Before you could drown in your thoughts, Michael finally spoke again.

         "I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mea-“ You cut him off with a hiss. "Don’t you dare say you didn’t mean it, Michael! You sleeping around wasn’t an accident! You screwed around, knocked her up, and married her, not caring two shits about me in the process. We were happy. We loved each other. At least I thought we did.”

         "We did! I did!“ You shook your head as the tears started to fall. "No you didn’t. If you had, you would have come home to me. You would have come home and married me, just like we talked about.” Michael said nothing and you huffed. Silence once again descended on the room for a few moments. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet Michael’s gaze, so you settled for the ceiling or your daughter’s face.

         "What can I do?“ You shook your head. "Nothing. We can’t change it now. Go home to your wife, Michael. I won’t keep you from seeing your daughter, but it will be under my terms. And that b-woman is not allowed anywhere near me or my daughter for the time being. I don’t trust her. Especially not after this afternoon.” Michael looked at you in utter confusion.

         "You don’t know?“ you asked before rolling your eyes. "Nevermind. Go talk to your wife. I need rest.” Michael surprisingly didn’t argue and left. More tears fell from your eyes. How had things gotten so messed up? Other people would have blamed the entire family. “The Shelby’s are bad news.” But you couldn’t. It wasn’t their fault. It was yours and it was Michael’s. Now you had to live with it. Still, as you looked down yet again, you smiled.

         All the messed up situations in the world were worth seeing that little girl’s face. Michael could rot with his wife for all you cared. You didn’t need him and your daughter certainly didn’t need to look up to him. The door opened again to reveal the rest of the Shelby clan. “Is everything alright?” You looked at them and smiled tiredly. “Everything is going to be fine…absolutely fine.”

(a/n: I hope you liked it! I’ve got a Sherlock fic and a Labyrinth fic in the works!)

Tagging: @gilraenpalantir​ @namelesslosers​

[ijustwant2write]

Rest Beside Me-Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader

(GIF credit @whenimaunicorn)

Requested by @theprincessandtheprince: 'Can you do one where a sick Hvitserk is nursed back to health by Y/N who falls in love with him?

Characters: Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader, Aslaug x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Mention of illness, mention of death, sexual tension and lots of fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Guess who was able to get the supplies for a lower price, again this week, may I add." I smirked as I approached my father.

We were still stood in the middle of the market, unphased by the usual crowds. He rolled his eyes with a smile, sighing before he spoke.

"I lose the bet again then I see."

"Yes you do. That means I get to choose a piece of jewellery today."

"A piece of jewellery? That's what you want?"

Father and I always made this a game. It made gathering supplies more interesting. He was the towns leading healer, he had studied illnesses for a majority of his life, and had discovered new cures. Father had met the love of his life (my mother) when he cured her back to health, and of course, I came along a year later. But there was nothing that could have been done to save her during childbirth, something he never forgave himself for; that was what he was looking into now, something to ease the pain of birth and to save the mother's. Though it was harder than anything else he ever faced.

Most of our bets never had a prize at the end. Sometimes it had been some sort of treat for each other, our favourite food, but I had my eye on a necklace, and I had never wanted anything else in my life. I would never ask my father if I doubted he could afford it.

"It's just so beautiful father, a simple necklace. If we don't have the money, then I understand." I sadly smiled.

He held out his arm, grinning as I looped mine through."Come on, show me this dazzling necklace."

Once father had bought it, we returned home. I couldn't stop touching it, or gazing at it in the mirror. It was strange how a piece of metal could make me feel so happy. I helped him put away the supplies we bought, making a list of what we had so we wouldn't forget what we had.

"Have you delivered the vials of medicine to the patients I listed?" father asked.

"Yes, they all seem to be recovering well. They said their thanks and mentioned that they were mentioning us in their prayers to the God's." I replied, sitting down in a chair beside the fire.

He sat opposite me, clasping his hands together and resting then on top of his stomach. It was times like these that made him look older, and I couldn't help but think about when I would have to start looking after him.

"(Y/N), I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

He chuckled."There is no need to worry. It's just that I need to go away for a while."

"Go away? Where? Why?"

"An old friend of mine is also a healer. They have a difficult case on their hands and need my expertise. It isn't far away, but I shall have to stay there for a few days."

"But, what about the people here?"

"I have spoken to Queen Aslaug, she has given me permission as we are allies with the people I am helping. And I said that you would take over my duties."

My eyes almost popped out of my head, and I leaned forward in my chair."What?! I've never done this by myself!"

"You are more than capable. You make your own antidotes, you know what herbs you need to use for certain illnesses, and you have a mind heart. Everyone says so."

"What if I do something wrong?"

"You'll have all of your books I made you write, they're exact copies of mine. You can always use them as a referral."

"I don't know father, it's a lot to process. When are you leaving?"

He hesitated, casting his eyes down."Tomorrow morning."

"You leave in the morning?! Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" I raised my voice, becoming more worried.

"Calm down (Y/N), please." he also leaned forward, reaching for my hand, and I gripped onto it."You know I would never put you in a position where you were uncomfortable, scared, or humiliated. I've chosen to put you in charge because you can do this!"

I said nothing.

"Believe me when I say that everyone will be in capable hands with you around. Even Queen Aslaug was confident about you."

"She was?"

"Yes! There are the other local healers to assist you, should you need it. But I am sure that you will do great just by yourself."

"Why couldn't you tell me a week ago at least? I could have got my head together, I could have reviewed everything I learnt."

"Because if I told you then, all you would do is worry and keep yourself up late at night thinking about everything that could go wrong. Telling you the night before I leave means you just have to get on with it. Believe me, you're going to surprise yourself with just how amazing you are."

Father was right. I couldn't sleep much that night. I thought about how much I would miss him as well as the heavy duty he had practically dropped on me. Although I knew he did it on purpose (and for that I aas slightly angry with him), I realised that it was also a test. He wouldn't be the healer forever, the role had to be passed down to someone.

In the morning, I tried to seem happy as he left. Father sadly smiled, knowing how upset I was. We embraced for a long time, and he chuckled when he tried to pull away. When I finally let him go, I watched him mount his horse, waving one last time before he rode away. I didn't move until he was out of my sight completely. Sighing as I turned around to head inside, two shield maidens suddenly showed up.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N), Queen Aslaug has requested your help." one of them announced.

"Why? What's wrong?" I asked.

"She believes that Prince Hvitserk has fallen ill."

"Let me gather my things."

As they guided me to Hvitserk's home, I thought about how quickly my first appointment happened. Father had literally just left, and someone was already in need of my help. However, this was the Prince that was ill. What if I was unable to heal him? What if I gave him the wrong treatment and made him worse? I almost wanted to slap myself for thinking such stupid things. This was what father had told me not to do, I was worthy of this role, and I was going to look after the people!

"Queen Aslaug, we have brought her." the shield maiden said, and they parted, revealing me.

I bowed my head as I curtsied."Queen Aslaug. What can I do to help?"

"Thank you for coming. I know this is a lot to ask of you as this is the first time you have worked without your father. But my son is stubborn, he will not let anyone see him."

"What are his symptoms?"

"He is extremely pale, he feels like he is on fire, constantly sweating, and he has no strength in him. What's wrong with him?"

"From what you said, it could just an extreme case of a cold. The winter has been harsh on us, so it wouldn't surprise me. But I shall go inside and confirm that."

"I warn you, he will not be easy to speak to. He does not like to be seen as weak."

"Don't worry, I will get through to him. I've dealt with men like him before."

I walked inside, already hearing his heavy breathing. As I walked through the home, I couldn't help but be in awe of how big it was. I had always lived in a small home, I still loved it dearly, but all of this space for one person? It didn't seem fair. Continuing to his room, I knocked on the wall beside the curtain that separated it from the rest of the house. There was a grumble from inside, but I walked through anyway.

"Prince Hvitserk," I bowed just as I had to his mother,"my name is (Y/N), I'm here to check on you. Your mother says you are not well."

He was bundled up in multiple furs, hunched up into a ball. His glare was harsh as he looked me up and down.

"I don't need a healer. I am fine." he moaned.

I took a few steps forward, seeing how shiny his forehead was with sweat."I shall be the judge of that. You do not look like your usual self."

A smug grin formed on his face."So, you watch me then?"

He was cocky, and at any other time, I would be disgusted, but this showed that there was still some spark left in him.

"If I say yes, will you let me help you?"

He nodded."You know, I have seen you around too."

"You have?" I wasn't really interested in the conversation, but it made him distracted from what I was doing.

I grabbed my water skin, pouring it onto a rag. There was a smile on his face as I placed a cold rag on his forehead.

"Yes, I have. It doesn't surprise me that someone as beautiful as the goddess Freya is also as nurturing."

I scoffed at him, though there was humour behind it."You really must be unwell if you're having thoughts such as that."

I looked through my bag, picking out certain herbs to mix together. It was simple to say that he had a cold, it was a bad one, but easy to cure.

"Where is your father? You're normally trailing behind him."

"I'm sorry, would you have preferred to gaze upon his beauty?"

He laughed but it caused him to start coughing. I quickly poured water into a nearby cup, gently grabbing the back of his head and tilting it upwards. His lips met the cup, and I slowly tipped it, letting him drink.

"He has gone away for a few days, and I'm in charge now." I explained as I laid him down again.

"Well, aren't I lucky?"

I rolled my eyes with a smile, crushing up the herbs whilst still perched on the edge of his bed. Mixing it in his drink, I turned around to face him.

"You are not seriously ill, it's a common cold, the weather has made it slightly worse. But you are in need of medicine. This is going to taste disgusting, but trust me, it's going to help you get better sooner."

He sat up in bed, grimacing as he looked into the cup, but drank it anyway. I refrained from laughing when his face scrunched up, spluttering as he tried to get rid of the taste.

"I'll make some more medicine, and I'll deliver them to you, they should last you three more days, and if you need more, I'll return." I explained, standing up and packing up my belongings.

"No."

"No?"

"You'll deliver them everyday and tend to me."

"And why would I do that? I have other people to see."

"Then see me last."

"Hvitserk, you don't need me here-"

"I command it."

"What if I refuse?"

"Then you are going against your prince's desires."

"I shall speak with your mother about this. My Prince."

I hastily left, surprised to see Aslaug still outside. She instantly looked at me, almost charging towards me.

"So? How is he?"

"He will be fine my Queen. I have provided him with medicine for now, but I shall need to return tomorrow with more."

She squinted her eyes at me."Why do you seem unsure about something?"

"The Prince, he...he requested that I come here frequently and...tend to him."

"Then you shall do as he asks."

I kept my mouth shut. I did want to stay alive.

"If he feels that he needs help to get better, you will visit him every day."

"He said I could come after I made my rounds with other patients."

"That seems smart. See to it that he gets back to his usual self quickly."

I don't think that will be a problem.

"Thank you (Y/N), you will be rewarded greatly. And your father will hear of this, he will be very proud."

The next day, I made my way to all the patients, having to explain every time where my father was. No one complained, and this boosted my confidence. I held onto that new feeling as I arrived at Hvitserk's house, knocking before entering, calling out as to not startle him. He was sat up in bed this time, already looking better, he wasn't as pale.

"Prince Hvitserk, how are you feeling?" I asked as I walked towards him.

"A little better. But I am tired of being stuck in bed." he huffed.

"I hope you have not left that bed since yesterday?"

"If you have told me to remain in bed, then I shall do so." he smirked again."It's a shame there is no one here to share it."

"Well no one should be sharing a bed with you if you're ill." I retorted.

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Did you take anymore medicine?"

"Yes."

"Was it still horrible?"

"It is the foulest thing I have ever tasted."

It was my turn to laugh."That means it's good medicine."

"I would rather be drinking ale."

I pulled up a chair, sitting down as I made his medicine again."I'm sure you would. Just do as I say and you'll be back at with your friends, drinking the night away."

"Do you drink?"

"Yes. Sometimes too much as my father says."

"How come I have never come across you at feasts or celebrations?"

"I am there. I just never seem to pass you."

"How could I miss such a pretty face?"

"You do like to compliment, don't you?"

"Only when I mean it."

I glanced up at him, but quickly cast my eyes back down to the ingredients when he looked at me.

"I miss training too. I haven't held a sword in days." he mumbled.

"Are there any upcoming raids?"

"Not so far. But I can't wait for the next one."

"Why do you like it so much?"

I held out the cup of medicine to him, and for a moment his face dropped. He kept looking into it, swirling around the liquid as he spoke.

"The thrill of it all. We are viking, it's our purpose in life. I get to earn my way into Valhalla whilst exploring new places that no one else may have seen yet. I can face a thousand men in battle, but I can't defeat a stupid cold."

"If you take your medicine, you will." I urged.

He closed his eyes as he downed it all, still hating the taste. I took the cup from him, gently placing the back of my hand on his forehead. I could feel his blue eyes staring at me, even if I wasn't looking at him. Hvitserk was a charmer, he knew his way around women. And he was a Prince, it was much easier for him to get them to fall at his feet.

"Well, you're not as hot anymore." I commented as I pulled away.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Such a humble man." I muttered, but his laugh told me that he heard it.

As instructed, I had to visit everyday, and despite Hvitserk still being under the weather, his confidence hadn't faltered. However, the cockiness had worn off, his comments were much sweeter now. Perhaps I was giving him too much medicine, maybe it was making him slightly delusional. I used to dread going to see him, wishing that it was any other patient that had requested such a thing. However, as soon as he showed me his true self, I was beginning to like him, and it didn’t feel like such a chore; I even found myself refraining from making his medicine until I arrived, meaning I would have to stay for longer. As I had also been there longer into the night, he had hired a guard to wait outside and walk me home safely.

“You seem sad today. Tell me what is wrong?” Hvitserk asked. 

He was fully sat up with his legs crossed and only needed one fur to keep him warm now. It felt horrible to say, but it was almost sad that he was getting better, I wouldn’t have an excuse to seem him.

“Don’t worry. It’s none of your concern.” I gently said, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. He leaned closer to me.

“You hardly have any time to socialise anymore, you said so yourself. I bet you haven’t been able to get anything off your mind recently.” 

We held eye contact for a few more seconds than I would have liked, and I didn’t even break it as I spoke.“I’ve heard gossip amongst the people. About us.”

“And what do they say?”

“I don’t think they believe that I’m caring for you. They think I’m looking after you in a different way.”

He didn’t seem offended by it.“And why should you care?”

“Hvitserk, I’m well known throughout the town, I’m the healer’s daughter! If they think I’m sleeping around whilst my father is away-”

“You don’t need to panic.” he laid his hand on top of mine.

“I’m a woman, of course I need to worry about something like this.”

“No, you don’t.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, my tone much more snappy.“What do you mean?”

“You’re so interesting (Y/N). You have all of this knowledge inside that pretty, little head, and somehow you still have room for kindness and patience. It baffled me how you brushed me off that first time we met, because I thought you would feel sorry for me. You’ve not just cured me from an illness, you’ve shown me what a bastard I’ve been. And for some reason, you made me want to be caring, yet there is only one person I want to protect.”

Unknowingly, our faces had inched closer and closer. Our eyes were still connected, except for the flickering looks to each others lips. It was all too tempting and teasing.

“And...who might that be?”

“I think you know who.” 

His free hand wrapped around the back of my neck, finally pushing our lips together. I instantly leaned into it, not even thinking as we kissed. It was hungry, both of us wanted control over the other, but no one was winning. I was the one to break it, suddenly feeling shy under his stare.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” I breathed out.

His smile dropped.“Why?”

“Because you’re still sick, so now I am going to become ill.”

He let out a relieved sigh.“Well, perhaps it is time I return the favour.”

“I did think you would be saying that under different circumstances.”

“We may not be doing what you expected, but you can still lay in my bed with me.”

I kicked off my shoes, jumping on top of him.“Are you feeling better?”

His hands grabbed onto my thighs that were straddling his waist.“I feel like a brand new man.”

“Good, cause I don’t give this treatment to my other patients.”