#sent a letter to the Lord and the trust

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Love you the way you are

requested by @ladymidnights-blog I was wondering if you'd write an Azriel x reader where she comes back from a mission and was hurt and bleeding, but she's really good at hiding it and brushing it off, but Azriel finds out and it's all fluffy and soft. I'm in such a mood for soft azriel to be honest.

warnings: fighting, injuries, cuts, blood, stitches

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You loved the thrill of it. The rush of adrenaline, the dizziness it gave you. It wasn't just about serving your high lord or keeping your court safe. Even if that was your main duty. It's like all of this was in your blood. Ran through your veins. Was part of your existence. After all, that's all you did for as long as you could remember.

You were quite a rebel. Caused Rhys heaps of trouble through the years, even though the high lord was good friends with your father. Some things just couldn't be pushed under the rug, and even his high rank didn't allow it to be swept aside. So after being sent to a private boarding school and almost sending it down in flames, your father was ready to give up on you until Rhys made a proposal that he wanted you to work for him.

You didn't expect that. A part of you was sure that this was a nicely coated way of saying that Rhys was going to put you in the dungeons and potentially behead you for all that you had done. But no, the same things that the High Lord had written in the letter, were told to you when you arrived at the night court. Serve me; he told you; be my cruelest weapon, eyes, and ears in places that no one could reach. Oddly enough, he saw a potential fighter's soul inside of you. A good soul maybe lost and a little bit damaged, but a good soul is, most importantly, one that needs a loving home and people it can trust.

And it was all glitter and sparkles until Azriel got informed that he was going to get a mission buddy. That was Rhysand provided him with his right hand. His commander, a person with whom he was supposed to share his work. And to say that the shadow singer wasn't happy once this information was delivered would have been an understatement. But seeing him kick and fight to get you off the court, or at least off of his hands, only increased your excitement.

You, however, didn't care for friends, didn't care for gatherings or dinners, that all of the inner circle had together. You sat at the table alongside them only if it was delivered as an order, never if it was just a suggestion. At best, you observe them from afar. A dull corner, a crack in the doorway, from the side of the upstairs stairwell. Cold and unapproachable. That's how you wanted it to be seen. The fewer weaknesses, the better.

That was all until one night, after turning and tossing in your bed for hours, you decided to use the time that was being wasted by trying to fall asleep to train. As quiet as a shadow, you made your way out, anticipating the empty and quiet training ring. But there was already a figure swirling there. Azriel. You've never seen anyone move in the way that he did. The way he fought. The way he held a dagger. The way his shadow swirled around him. Everything he did, every move he made, seemed to have an edge to it. Azriel wasn't just talented; he was perfect.

"Came to get your ass beat?", the sound of his voice pulled you out of your train of thought, and you blinked quickly. Yet you only shrugged, "No, just had a feeling you might want to get your ass beat." Walking swiftly past him, you picked up a dagger before turning the spymaster's way.

"Care for a little fight?", but Azriel only laughed, "I don't do catfights, gorgeous", you narrowed your eyes at him not only because of the nickname but also because during all the time you had spent here you have fought both Rhys and Cassian, all of the girls, but never Azriel. It didn't matter what you did, what you said, or what strings you pulled—you could never get him to finally give in. "You know, the more you back away, the more I think that you're just petrified that I would indeed beat you. Your ego is that fragile?", Azriel picked up his shirt that was tossed to the ground before wiping his sweaty face with it. "I'm more concerned about your ego," he said, but you just shook your head. Fine, let it be Mr. Untouchable, you thought to yourself. 

You weren't going to waste your time. "Leaving already?", yet you only roll your eyes at him before continuing to walk off. You walked until Azrie spoke again, "I'm impressed with your work, Y/N. Keep it up, and you might just end up on my good list." You were glad you had your back to him because the sudden flush on your cheek was embarrassing. You'd never blushed like that before. At least males had never made you blush like that. They disgusted you, at least the majority of them.

And that was another thing that frightened you—the way Azriel broke through your shield, through all the walls you've built. That's how the next few months were. You went on missions together or separately. You brought in reports, organized some of his old papers, attended meetings and bit by bit you found yourself growing attached to him. There was no more bumping into each other in the middle of the night accidentally. You both purposely made time at night to train together.

And you found yourself walking alongside him, laughing, without even realizing it. Agreeing to sit through dinner with his family. Occasionally leaning into him when the wine hit your head too hard. Letting him tackle you to the ground so you could feel his warmth on your skin. Silently, and still very cautiously, that flame of attraction inside of you sparked up.

However, things got particularly sour in court not long after. The Illyrian camps started to cause more and more trouble. Missions to the camps were the only ones that you weren't allowed to attend. If Rhys didn't stress about it enough, Azriel sure did. No, it wasn't just that you shouldn't go. You were forbidden from ever putting a foot there. And you didn't fight that; after all, they were the ones who knew the flows of the camps.

Yet their absence left you to deal with everything else. Strange thefts started to appear in Velaris, and with accusations and threats that were being left regarding Rhys, things had gotten much more serious.

When the order to deal with it came, you weren't surprised. Strapping daggers to all parts of your body, you wrapped a cloak around yourself and vanished into the night. The smart move would've been letting someone know, but the boys were busy with the camps and the girls were out for the night at Rita's. So neither had time for additional interactions.

You lurked in the shadows for some time, waiting for the stranger to appear. And he did show up; however, he wasn't alone. There were at least five of them fully armed. You should've just turned away and left them be because even if you trusted your fighting skills. Taking down five males twice your size wasn't a very likely scenario. But you were feeling feisty tonight, so you leaped forward, whipping your sword in one of the male's ways.

The fight was fairly brutal, and to your advantage, three of the males fled. Leaving you to deal with only two of them. Swords, daggers, punches, kicks, nails—you name it. "You bitch!", one of them cursed as your nails dug into his eyes after he tried to pin you down against the wall. You let out a bitter laugh and said, "Say that again. I liked it."

You knocked one of them down with a kick to the head. Yet in your rather distracted state, you didn't catch the other male running at you with a sword in his hand. You dodged the blow, but it still cut through your side, making you growl, but with adrenaline in your body, that only made you more vicious, and in no time he was on the ground as well.

You were walking up from the dungeons when the boys winnowed back into the house, still talking among themselves. They didn't even notice you, and you hope it would stay like that. "Y/N?", Rhys said, making you turn to the three of them. The hood was still on your head, covering your bruised face. However, if your dark clothes hid the color of the blood that soaked your body, your hands were a clear indicator of what you'd been up to tonight.

"Dealt with the thieves. There were at least five of them. I managed to bring two to the dungeons for Azriel's interrogations. The other three ran away. But don't worry, I'll go back to the city tomorrow and find them," your words were calculated and almost robotic as you spoke them. You knew the scolding was going to come next, so without giving it a chance to appear, you turned around, forgetting that your left side had a cut running all across, causing you to whine under your breath.

Someone pulled your hood down from the back before turning your back to the three batboys that stood in the living room with crossed arms as they glared at you. "I told you to check it out. Not to try and get yourself killed",  Rhys said as he walked closer. "I did what had to be done at the moment," you snapped back, ready to turn away again, but it was Azriel who was standing by your side, gently gripping your forearms.

"You're bleeding," but you didn't meet his eyes. You didn't dare to, so you just mumbled, "Not mine and that", you pointed to your lip before cracking a smile, "It's not considered bleeding". But it's as if Azriel had an intuition. A feeling. Something inside of him told him where exactly your injuries were, and his hand came into contact with the left side of your body before he pressed his palm there. Hand turning a deep shade of red from the blood, you were still losing. You let out a roar from the pain that shot through your body, nails digging into the shadow singer's arms. Azriel only tilted his head to the side before giving you one of his looks that usually had a man running away.

"Get a healer, Rhys," Azriel said, taking one look at his brother before moving to gently scoop you up in his arms. "I don't need a healer. I don't have vital injuries", "What you don't have is the right to talk back", you wanted to snarl some more at him but you just shut your mouth. For the first time since you came back, you started to feel lightheaded. Potentially the adrenaline left your body and the blood loss that you carelessly ignored, finally was catching up with you.

The spymaster quickly carried you to his room, hoping and praying to the gods he believed that his brother would return in no time with proper help. Azriel patched soldiers up in camps. But you weren't just a soldier, and from the lack of color in your face, the blood loss was his worst enemy now.

"I'm going to cut open your shirt so I could get close to the wound", not a single muscle in your body flinched as Azriel ripped the material that had already stuck to your skin, "You sure it's not just your inner fantasies to see me naked", you waited for him to banter back but his face only darkened as he pulled out a clean shirt to press to the open cut. It was slowly healing; he couldn't deny that, but for some reason, Azriel's worries didn't ease.

"So, when will the shouting start?", Azriel only clenched his jaw and said, "It won't start. I'm worried, not mad." Even if his voice suggested otherwise, his eyes spoke the truth. He was still pressing the scrunched-up material to the cut, trying to stop the bleeding, which for some reason didn't want to ease up. "It frustrates me that you're so careless", "Come on, this is nothing, Az."

But the male let out a bitter chuckle before shaking his head, "Yeah, you bleeding out on my bed might be nothing to you, but it's not nothing to me", his voice was much lower now, more weary and concerned. "I'll get you new sheets", "I don't give a fuck about the sheets dammit, I want you... I need you to be okay." This was the first time you met his eyes, which looked frantic and scared. You noticed his trembling hands and the way his breathing was shallow. He was worried sick. The male, who barely showed emotion, was slowly falling apart in front of you.

You moved your bloody hand to rest on top of his before giving it a light squeeze just as the doors opened and Madja rushed in. The verdict that you needed stitches was brought up after one look that the healer took at the cut. You protested. You could hide the pain. You could handle the sting of a tonic but not the pain of stitches. Just the thought of the needle being pierced through your skin...

But Madja was already moving you to the side, and your eyes filled with tears. Yet not even a second later, you felt the bed dip. Azriel placed your head on his lap before taking both of your hands into his and said, "Take a deep breath in; Rhys will take the pain away", your teary eyes looked up at the spymaster, and he leaned closer, pressing a kiss on top of your head. Azriel was there from the first poke of the needle to the antibacterial tonic that was being rubbed onto the cut. Holding you up so Madja could wrap your middle up with a badge and making sure you were comfortable between the fresh sheets.

He was lying on the side of the bed next to you as you looked at each other. Even if you knew that you needed to sleep, you couldn't bring yourself to close your eyes when Azriel was this close to you. "Try to get some sleep," he said, still clutching your hand, "Thank you for looking after me," a smile crept onto his face.

"Even if you didn't have to," Azriel gaped at you once again before moving to run a hand through your hair. "You're awfully stubborn, you know?", you tried to laugh, but it only came out as a whine, yet you smirked anyways, "Well, what will you do about it?", your eyes didn't leave Azriel's even for a moment, "I guess I'll just have to love you the way you are."

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All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek

[wisteriashouse]

difficult.

pairing: kamisato ayato x reader

word count: 4.3k

synopsis: it’s no secret that kamisato ayato is a difficult man  — both to handle and to please. somehow, he only gets more difficult when sick, but you find that you don’t quite mind

a/n: sequel can be found here!

If someone were to ask you what it’s like serving under the esteemed Yashiro Commissioner himself, your answer would probably be that he is a difficult man.

You’re sure that the Kanjou Commissioner and Tenryou Commissioner would agree with you — both seem as though they have a rather pointy bone to pick with your lord, and knowing him, there is probably a wide variety of reasons with how often he muses about stepping on their toes. The Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine seems to think the same, referring to your master as ‘that Yashiro brat’ or ‘the Kamisato rascal’, whenever you’re sent to deliver missives or letters on his behalf. Although she’s never explicitly mentioned that she’s speaking about your master, it is quite obvious that the one she’s speaking about isn’t your lady Ayaka. Still, the most prominent of all his victims, however, would be poor Thoma — the savoury mizu manju your master had tried making really hadn’t sat well with his stomach, much to no one’s surprise.

For you, however, he’s difficult for a completely different reason.

“I know I’m considered to be quite the conventionally attractive looker,” the source of your current headache says, voice breathless yet still dripping slick with honeyed amusement that makes your irritation flare, “but this is just a little inappropriate, don’t you think, my dear?”

You make a lunge for him over his desk, but he manages to evade you far too skillfully for your liking. If someone were to walk in on the two of you right now, they would surely be stunned by the sight they’re greeted with: the ever composed Yashiro Commissioner with his clothes rumpled, face flushed and collar slipping down dangerously one shoulder, while his personal aide glares at him with an expression brimming over with ire.

“It wouldn’t have to be—” you say flatly, attempting a surprise grab for his sleeve that he dodges, silk fabric slipping between your fingers, “—if you would just sit still and let me take your temperature, milord. This is hardly how any self respecting adult should be acting, let alone the head of the Kamisato Clan.”

The two of you have been at this song and dance for far too long now, ever since Thoma had come to you in the morning commenting that the chief seemed to be feeling unwell. Knowing your master too well (unfortunately), you had made your way over to his office with a thermometer specially purchased from Fontaine, and sure enough, you had found him in full formal wear already going through the first missives for the day. The medical instrument now lies somewhere on the floor of his study, forgotten in your little scuffle with your master. You’ll have to look for it later under the stacks of books and papers littering the tatami mats.

“Ahh, but surely this isn’t how one’s personal aide should be treating their master either.” Why, this unreasonable, difficult man! Taking a step back from you, he shakes out his sleeves and brushes a tendril of cornflower blue hair behind his ear, before giving you an ineffable smile. “As your master, shouldn’t you trust my words when I tell you that I am feeling perfectly fine? The only trouble I am expecting today is the paperwork for the upcoming Irodori Festival,” he gestures to the precariously balanced stack of scrolls next to his desk, “and the dinner meeting with those pesky Kanjou officials, but there is nothing else to worry your pretty head about.”

Kamisato Ayato is difficult to read. No matter which way the political wind blows or how the tides shift, whether the sun is blazing bright in the sky with opportunities or lightning thunders ominously over Inazuma, the unruffled expression he wears on his face is ever constant — as though he’s a player and not simply a pawn on the power struggle chessboard, always three steps ahead of his opponent. He presents you with that same, perfectly immaculate expression now, the corner of his lips pulled up in a smile of amusement, as though waiting for you to entertain him with your next move. It’s only a little exasperating when you’re just trying to get him to rest.

Still, you like to think that after having served under him for so long, you’ve picked up one or two of his tricks. Subtlety, espionage, intelligence, and… nope. Tired of this, you finally give up on propriety and launch yourself at him, intent on pinning down the slippery man once and for all. The two of you go tumbling across the tatami mats with the momentum of your tackle, loose sheets of paper flying into the air and you bite back a wince when your knee bumps against the edge of his desk.

“Woah, woah. Calm down, don’t hurt yourself.” Firmly ignoring his words and the warmth of the hand pressing against your lower back, you straddle him tightly by the waist and look around for your thermometer — it lies just out of your reach behind some missives, and if you were to move off him to retrieve it, he would surely slip away again. The plan must adapt.

“Pardon my boldness, milord,” you mutter, with little to no sincerity in your voice. Shaking your head, you send a prayer to the Shogun for allowing you to keep your job somehow (it’s truly a miracle how you haven’t been fired yet), before leaning down to press your palm against his forehead. Lord Ayato looks up at you from the floor with wide eyes, something that you’ve only seen a handful of times when you truly take him by surprise, before he sighs and closes his eyes in resignation, long eyelashes sweeping across his cheeks. You try your best to ignore the way your mouth goes a little dry at the sight.

Just as you’d expected, his skin is burning hot against yours — it’s definitely a fever, and no mild one at that. You should have forced him to rest earlier, with how many all nighters he’s been pulling recently. Getting off him immediately, you kneel before him and bow low. “Milord, your fever is severe and you need to have some proper rest. I will have the kitchens bring some medicine to your quarters right away.”

“I could simply—” he begins to protest, and you give him a severe look. If you leave him in his office, he’ll have started on that paperwork before the water for his medicine has even begun to boil.

“Milord,” you enunciate very slowly, as if he’s a drunk and you’re asking how many fingers you’re holding up. His mouth closes with a quiet clop. “I will not allow you to compromise on your health when I am around. If you find me disagreeable, you are more than welcome to send me away.”

It’s a line that never fails to work on him. Lord Ayato fixes you with an unreadable look for a moment, and when you stare back at him with an unwavering expression, his pale eyes soften ever so slightly, before he lets out a defeated sigh and rises to his feet. He stumbles a little, but you’re immediately by his side when he does, supporting him by the arm.

“Send a messenger to the Ritou and have them postpone the meeting with the Hiiragi Clan to another day,” Lord Ayato looks over the piles of missives scattered across the floor, before reaching over to pinch you on the nose. “I hope you’re glad that you’ve bullied your master into getting your way, hmm?”

“Very happy, milord,” you answer, batting his hand away from your face. “Come now. Let’s get you to your rooms.”

In his quarters, you assist him with removing the outer layers of his clothes — you don’t even know how he managed to muster the strength to put all four of them on in the morning, sick as he is — before tucking him securely into his blankets. “It’s almost as if you think I’m going to try to escape,” he says, with far too much amusement in his voice for an ill man.

You simply give him a look before beginning to put up several folding screens to block out the light in his room. All the while, Ayato watches you contentedly from beneath the covers as you move around his room, as familiar with every nook and cranny of it as he is. There’s work to be done, so much of it, but it’s impossible for him to say no to you, especially when you insist. He’s tried before, and has never once succeeded.

So much for a master and servant, Ayato thinks, despairingly amused at his own behaviour. Still, you tend to be right about most things, and this is no exception. Already, he can feel his eyelids growing heavy, the uncomfortable throbbing behind his temples growing ever incessant. Perhaps some rest will do him some good.

By the time you’re done adjusting the screens and lighting a stick of incense, the scented wax meant to soothe the nerves and calm the mind, you turn around to see the Yashiro Commissioner already fast asleep in his blankets, lips slightly parted as his chest rises and falls with each steady breath. “So much for not needing any rest,” you mutter to yourself with a roll of the eyes, but he makes one fitful noise in his sleep and you’re instantly there to soothe him with fingers combing through silky locks.

For a moment (or perhaps a few), you simply watch him get the rest he more than deserves. Lord Ayato looks younger, asleep, as most people do, but it is not just age that melts away on his features when he’s lost to dreams. Ever the perfectly unshakeable Commissioner, cultured and accomplished clan head and ever reliable older brother, sometimes you wonder if he ever gets tired of fulfilling all those roles. It’s the innocence, you decide as you brush a stray lock of hair from the corner of his mouth, and watch as he fidgets in his sleep, kicking the blanket to one side.

Stifling a laugh, you tuck the blankets around him once more. Whoever would have thought that the graceful head of the Kamisato clan still hasn’t grown out of such a childish habit?

Careful not to disturb his rest, you slip out of his rooms to give instructions to the kitchens, sneaking his sleeping form one last glance before you slide the door shut behind you.

When Kamisato Ayato’s eyes blink open hours later, the first thing he becomes aware of is the damp towel resting on his forehead. Sitting up slowly, he wipes the sleep from his eyes and glances at the folding screens — what meagre light they’re letting in is a warm, syrupy, evening orange. Ayato estimates that he’s been asleep for most of the afternoon, and a good part of the evening as well.

He presses a hand to his own forehead, tastes the bitter residue of a herbal concoction on his teeth and tongue. It seems the medicine that you had the kitchens make was quite effective in breaking his fever after all. You must have gotten the medicine into him somehow, although he doesn’t quite remember it, most likely through a mixture of coaxing and threatening. He bites back a short laugh at the thought — he knows he’s far from well behaved when he’s feeling unwell.

The next thing Ayato becomes aware of is your absence. Even though you’re his personal aide, it doesn’t mean that your work vanishes when he decides to take a day off. You’re probably busy running around placating the people he was supposed to meet with today, doing your best to clear lower level missives and paperwork in his place. It’s late, and if he has to make a guess, you’ve probably forgotten to eat an evening meal, too busy being buried under a mountain of work.

Just as Ayato makes up his mind to look for you, the doors to his room slide open and you enter his quarters with a steaming tray in your hands. Attention focused on balancing its contents, you don’t notice that he’s already awake until he calls your name.

“Oh, milord, you’re awake!” There’s a relieved note in your voice that pleases him, for reasons he’s not quite ready to confront. Setting the tray in front of him, you press the back of your hand to his forehead, attentive eyes scanning his face. You’re close enough for him to pick up the scent of ink clinging to your clothes. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” he answers truthfully. The headache that has been plaguing him for most of the morning has subsided significantly, and he no longer feels like he might just keel over at any moment. “How did playing Commissioner for a day go? Perchance you have some interest in taking over my position?”

You give him a wry look, picking up a bowl of okayu that he recognises as Thoma’s cooking. “No more interested than I am in becoming the Shogun of Inazuma, I’m afraid. I had someone deliver a message to Lady Ayaka to inform her that you had taken ill, and she apologises for being held up with some ceremonial affairs at the Grand Narukami Shrine. She promises to come by once she returns to the estate.”

His little sister is working hard as usual. Perhaps taking a break for one day isn’t as catastrophic as he worried it might be. “It’s hardly anything for Ayaka to be worried about.” He allows himself to focus on the bowl in your hands, pouting a little when he sees its bland contents. “And this is hardly anything to look forward to when sick, is it?”

“Don’t say that about Thoma’s cooking when you can’t even boil water right.” Ouch, you had decided to go right for the throat. “Ill people should eat food that’s easy on the stomach, and the okayu has nourishing ingredients that are said to promote quick recovery.” You place the bowl in front of him, and give him an expectant look. While he usually has no qualms eating whatever the kitchen staff prepare for him on regular days, Ayato suddenly doesn’t feel like going along with today’s meal. Sleeping all day long has left him well rested, but also terribly bored. And he knows just what the perfect cure is.

“It looks unappetizing, and the fever has left my arms so weak I couldn’t possibly lift a spoon,” he complains dramatically, letting his voice stretch out into a long, pitiful whine. The way you eye him as though you intend on giving him a good spanking is enough to keep him amused for days. It’s no secret that he enjoys watching people squirm, but every expression you make captures his attention wholly. “As my personal aide, how about you feed me, hmm?”

He says that in jest, fully expecting you to make that funny face where you scrunch up your nose and wrinkle your brow before scolding him, but to his surprise, you frown for a moment, as though you’re actually considering his words. Then you let out a sigh and pick up the bowl, gesturing for him to move over. “If you say so, milord.”

Kamisato Ayato is rarely surprised by anything, preferring to stay multiple steps ahead of any opponent, but when coming face to face with a completely unexpected turn of events, well... “Wait,” he begins to say, finding himself at a loss. He blames the fever. This wasn’t how he had expected this to go. “I was just—”

He’s interrupted by a spoonful of hot porridge in his mouth. “Ow,” is all he manages to make out. Even the slight scald of his tongue and cheeks feels oddly pleasant. “Hot.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You blow lightly over the next spoonful of okayu before holding it to his lips. “Here, this bite should be fine.”

Ayato eats the rest of his meal obediently, all while sneaking furtive glances at you between bites. Contrary to his childish complaints, the okayu is actually quite delectable, its subtle flavour just enough to satisfy his appetite without making him feel sick. He shouldn’t have expected any less; he’s more than familiar with Thoma’s prowess in the kitchen. By the time he’s finished, the sides of the bowl are scraped clean and his eyes are starting to feel heavy once more. Although he tries to hide it, you notice when he subtly holds back a small yawn and move to pick up the tray. Oh, that won’t do

“Then, I’ll leave you to rest, milord—”.

“A moment, please.” No person who values their life would dare describe the Yashiro Commissioner as shameless, but perhaps this too can be blamed on the fever. He picks up his buckwheat pillow from where it lies on his futon and sets it to the side. “The headrest is a little too hard for my liking. My neck was sore when I woke up from my rest.”

You give him a frown (it’s a perfectly good pillow that he’s been using for months now), but you give in with a defeated sigh and swallow your retort, leaning over to pick up the pillow. “Then, I’ll get another one for you right away.”

“I’m tired now, unfortunately.” Too late, you see the mischievous flicker in those pale blue eyes and instantly make a face. Still, as familiar as you are with your master’s tricks, you don’t expect it when he shifts himself closer to where you’re sitting before he rests his head tentatively against the side of your thigh. “This would be far more comfortable, don’t you think?”

“Milord!” You can’t see your face right now, but you’re sure it’s scarlet with embarrassment. Why, if someone were to walk in on the two of you right now, there would be no way you could properly explain what had transpired—

His laughter bubbles up from between his lips like a clear spring, unrestrained peals of genuine amusement. The sound is so rare, you almost can’t find it in you to mind that it came at your expense. Huffing with irritation, you reach out and grab his head firmly with your hands, careful not to dig your nails into his soft skin, and set his head in the cradle of your lap. The laughter slowly fades as your master looks up at you with something that resembles pleased surprise in his eyes. You don’t comment on how it makes them sparkle like clear cut crystals in the afternoon sun.

“You’re being unusually accommodating of my whims today,” Lord Ayato comments after a moment, after his laughter has died down completely and you’ve shifted to make yourself comfortable against the wall. He looks comfortable situated in your lap like this, lazy and indulgent, tracing a fingertip along the pattern printed on your kimono. Although you’re more than aware of his preferences for dogs, you can’t help but feel that he resembles a feline far more. “Perhaps I should fall sick more often?”

“Please banish the thought, milord,” you answer immediately. His hair spills over your knee, and you have to fight the urge to run your fingers through the soft strands. “Or I will accept a marriage offer on your behalf and have you wedded off to someone who actually has the time to babysit you.” This is because he’s sick, you reason with yourself. As his personal aide, you know how hard he’s been working over the past few days, so it is also your responsibility to indulge him occasionally. “Instead, please take better care of your own health so as to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

Lord Ayato grumbles, perhaps at the thought of getting married, making a face of displeasure. You are very familiar with his distaste for the subject, with how many marriage proposals he’s tasked you to write letters of refusal for. “I’d come right back,” he says softly, turning to bury — bury!— his face against your side. You nearly startle at the ticklish feeling, one hand coming to rest on his hair to steady yourself. Soft, your mind provides unhelpfully. “No one takes better care of me than you.”

His voice is muffled, making him sound all the more petulant, like a sulking child. The dignified Yashiro Commissioner, sulking! You fight back a smile. “You’re being ridiculous, milord,” you tell him, your fingers starting to card through his hair absentmindedly. “No matter who you get married to, I would still remain in your service, would I not?”

At your words, he peeps up from your lap with hopeful eyes. Some of his hair has fallen into his eyes, messy and almost devastatingly boyish. “So, you would be willing to stay by my side forever?”

There’s something about the way he asks that question that makes you wonder if he’s has another intention behind those words, but no matter how you think about it, your answer would always be yes. You’re not skilled at reading between the lines like your master is, unfortunately. And as much as you lament that he’s unreadable at times, that he enjoys watching you squirm, that he’s a difficult master to handle, you also know how dedicated and loving he can be, and how fiercely protective he is over the people he holds close.

You know that you’re one of those people, after all.

So you answer honestly. “As long as you need me, milord.” There’s a slow, silent pause before he answers.

“That’s good,” Lord Ayato whispers, his voice unusually soft and reverent as though the two of you are making some sort of sacred vow. Goosebumps race over your skin at his words, a warmth curling in the pit of your belly. “I’ll hold you to that, then. No take backs, no going back on your word.”

Too late, you realise that you may have just agreed to something that you don’t completely understand. Instantly suspicious, you take your master by the shoulder and begin to shake him insistently. Just as you’d thought, his smile is wide with satisfaction as though he’s a cat that just got the canary, and you can’t help feeling as though you are the bird trapped between his metaphorical paws. “Milord,” you scold, shaking him harder, “Milord, explain yourself properly.”

Lord Ayato merely gives a big, dramatic yawn right on cue — so exaggerated it would have made Sayu proud — nuzzling softly against your thigh. You shiver a bit, about to scold him when he turns over. “I’m going to rest now,” he hums, completely deaf to your protests. “Thank you for taking care of me today. I promise I’ll work hard tomorrow,” before he promptly closes his eyes and refuses to respond even when you smack him on the shoulder.

You stare down at him in disbelief of your master’s shamelessness, before you let out a sigh of defeat and shake your head. Right, this master of yours is a difficult, difficult man. Yet, you still can’t think of any reason that would cause you to take back what you’d said. Sighing, you begin to run your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, and it’s not long before your master genuinely falls asleep, the sound of low, steady breathing filling your ears like the pulse of the tide.

He looks so vulnerable like this, asleep in your lap, completely unguarded in your presence, and in that moment you know that you would do anything for this man, even if it means offering him your life and everything that you possess.

“Yes,” you whisper quietly to him as he sleeps, letting your fingers wander down from his hair to brush over the curve of his high cheekbones, then the ghost of a touch against his parted lips. “I’d be willing to stay by your side forever, Kamisato Ayato.”

Vow made, you retract your hand quickly, returning them to a more appropriate place in his hair. Not that this position could be called proper by any means, but it’s late enough that no one should walk in on this. Very few people dare to enter Lord Ayato’s personal quarters after all. You find yourself settling against the wall, closing your own eyes. “Just for a few more minutes,” you mutter to yourself, exhaustion from your long day finally catching up to you as well. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll put Lord Ayato’s head back on his buckwheat pillow (which you know that he likes, the dolt) and tuck him in. Just a few more minutes…

And that’s how Lady Ayaka finds the two of you when she returns from the Grand Narukami Shrine, the radiant smile hidden behind her fan as she looks over at the position you’re in from the older. Her older brother, deep in slumber and head pillowed in your lap, while your own head has lolled to the side, knuckles resting lightly against his cheek.

“Why aren’t you heading in, milady?” Ayaka turns around to see Thoma approaching, looking confused. After all, he was the one who had relayed the message that her brother had fallen ill to her. “Has milord fallen asleep already—”

Ayaka hushes him before he can wake the two of you, shifting to the side so that Thoma can peer in through the doorway. When he does, his green eyes go wide. “Oh,” he says, before the corners of his mouth tugs into a pleased smile. “Oh.”

“I shall check in with Older Brother about his health tomorrow,” Ayaka announces to Thoma as she slides the doors shut to give the pair inside their privacy. It’s not good manners to show one’s expressions extravagantly, but Ayaka can’t help the smile that blooms over her cheeks. “I hope that you shall see that his rest is not disturbed.”

Thoma’s eyes crinkle in understanding.

“Of course, milady.”

[thelordofgifs]

the fairest stars: post iv

Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils, more sons of Fëanor than anyone ever needed or wanted get involved, things go extremely sideways: you know the drill. You can find the first 18 parts of this bullet point fic on AO3 here, and parts 16-20 on tumblr here.

We're starting out part 21 with a timeskip!

One year after the fall of Himring, north Beleriand remains bitterly contested.

The East is overrun. In Barad Eithel's great war-room the map of Estolad is covered in black arrows stretching from Lothlann down to the Andram Wall.

Caranthir and Amras maintain a last stronghold on Amon Ereb, with the people of Himring who fled there after its fall; but Ossiriand, they fear, will only remain undefiled so long as Morgoth's attention does not turn towards it.

Their Eastern allies, too, are unimpressed. Bór and his young sons were all slain not long after Himring burned; the few of their people who escaped the orc-raids have joined themselves to Ulfang in Thargelion, but they are none too friendly to the Fëanorians these days.

"And Nelyo says I'm bad at making allies," Caranthir remarks.

[yeah he's in this now. damn it why will they not stay in their place.]

"I wouldn't say this is Nelyo's fault," Amras says quietly.

It is a debate held, in one form or the other, in every free kingdom in Beleriand.

But anyway, the East does not seem to be Morgoth's main concern for now.

It is Hithlum, Fingon is sure, where the next assault will come.

Hithlum, the realm of the High King of the Noldor; Hithlum, where he reigns who once humilated Morgoth so thoroughly; Hithlum, where Maedhros holds a Silmaril yet.

If the last true stronghold of the Noldor falls—

And he is facing plenty of internal pressure, too.

His lords – many of them survivors of the Grinding Ice, and arch-loyal followers of the House of Fingolfin – are less than impressed by the rumours that have reached them of the fall of Himring, and Maedhros' actions there.

Fingon has tried to quell the whispers as best as he can. But it is impossible to deny the fact that the attack took Himring by surprise because its patrols were cancelled on Maedhros' orders, or that Maedhros left the field as their position worsened.

The healers who treated Maglor's stab wound have not been quiet, either, about the fact that it was an elvish blade that caused the injury.

And some of those who were at Himring have heard that Maglor was found in a pool of his own blood with Maedhros, subdued too late, unconscious beside him—

If only they knew, Fingon thinks furiously, they would not cast sly aspersions on his judgement and his taste in friends. They would not stop talking of anything consequential when Maedhros drew near, as if he is not to be trusted with the secrets of the war.

Of course when he dares to suggest to Maedhros that this might bother him, Maedhros laughs and says, "Finno, do you think this the worst humiliation I have ever endured?"

So. There's not much Fingon can say to that.

His father was a diplomat, a politician, a builder of alliances. Fingon is not doing a very good job of living up to that legacy.

Thingol returned no response to the letter Fingon sent him, informing him of Curufin's disappearance.

In fact, Thingol is kind of just Done.

So the Noldor turned out to be faithless. What else is new?

Also he didn't really want Curufin's head anyway. Where would he even put it?

Fingon cannot give him what he truly wishes for: his daughter.

In Lúthien's absence old age has fallen upon him, who has lived unwithered for long Ages of the Stars since his birth at distant Cuiviénen.

Melian sings no longer. The people of Doriath, who have known little but peace and splendour since the Girdle was first raised, begin to wonder if their blessings have been withdrawn.

So it is a Menegroth much changed into which Beren and Lúthien walk, hand in hand, one afternoon.

Their return is met with both joy and some consternation. Youth comes back to Thingol at the touch of his daughter's hand; but Melian knows that she will never smile again.

Lúthien bears it all, the feasts of celebration at which none can look her in the eye, her father's overwhelming gladness and her mother's sorrow, the halls that ring yet with the memory of her grief, for exactly two weeks; then she announces that she and Beren are leaving.

"Daughter," Thingol protests, "you have only just returned to us – and soon—"

(Thingol does not know how he will ever handle the parting that is to come.)

"Will you not stay?" he asks. "This is your home."

Lúthien is not sure she knows what home means any more.

"I am sorry," she says, regretful but firm.

The next day finds her and Beren walking through Brethil, debating their next course of action – just as they did not so very long ago, when Celegorm and Curufin attacked them in the woods.

It is of that little skirmish that Beren is thinking now.

"They say Curufin is still out there somewhere," he argues. "It mightn't be safe—"

"I sang Morgoth himself to sleep," Lúthien cries, "and you think I can't take Curufin Fëanorion?"

"Tinúviel," Beren says, with a laugh, "I do not think there is anyone you can't take."

Lúthien allows herself to be placated.

"I am not suggesting we dwell alone in the wilderness," she says; "you made your earlier thoughts on that very clear. But I – I cannot go back to being Doriath's Princess, Beren, as if every part of me is not changed irretrievably since first you called my name, as if – as if you didn't die there, and—"

"Sweetheart," says Beren, kissing her forehead. "It wasn't permanent." And when she chokes out a little laugh through her tears, he goes on, "I know you do not wish to stay in Doriath. But we must choose somewhere – and somewhere safe. It seems as though the Enemy's reach has lengthened in the time we were, um, gone."

"I thought to go to Ossiriand," Lúthien says. "My kin the Green-elves still guard those lands."

"But only those lands," says Beren. "Estolad and Thargelion are overrun. The sons of Fëanor keep no watch upon the Eastmarch. If Morgoth were to learn that you dwelled there—"

"I'm not afraid," Lúthien says. "And even if I were – am I never to venture beyond the Girdle again, for fear of him? Is all my father's kingdom to be naught to me but a prison, as Hírilorn was? I cannot stand it – I will not."

Beren takes both her hands in his one and looks at her. "Tinúviel," he says, very seriously, "I will never cage you."

Oh, he knows her. What a wondrous, terrifying thing, to be understood so completely.

Perhaps Lúthien is still a little delirious with the rush of living once more, for she dips her head to capture Beren's mouth in a delighted kiss, and for a time they both forget all other matters.

Plucking strands of grass from her hair some time later, Beren says, "I have another idea."

"What! I thought I argued my case quite passionately," Lúthien teases.

"You said you thought of dwelling among your kin," says Beren. "What of going to mine, instead?" And, when Lúthien shoots him a puzzled look, "The House of Bëor is mostly ruined, but there are still remnants of my people who escaped Dorthonion ere its fall. Some of them dwell nearby, with the Haladin. And others went north to Dor-lómin – my little cousin Morwen is the lady of that land now."

"I do not wish to stay in Brethil," says Lúthien; "it is rather too close to Menegroth for my tastes. But the Land of Echoes, on the other hand..."

Her eyes are alight with that same fanciful gleam they used to get when Beren told her stories of the world outside the Girdle, of holy Tarn Aeluin and the dread Ered Gorgoroth alike.

You would think, Beren muses, that she would have had enough of adventure by now.

"I have," says Lúthien, catching his thought. "We are to live a very peaceful and retiring life. I insist on it! That is what I told Mandos we deserved. None shall dare assail us, in Dor-lómin." She rolls the name on her tongue as if trying to taste it.

"They call it so because of the terrible cry of Morgoth when Ungoliant assailed him," Beren tells her, "not for any sweeter music."

Lúthien laughs and flings her arms around him. Oh, his living body warm and solid against hers! It is a gift she does not intend to waste.

"Luckily," she says, "I am good at changing the melody."

Another conversation between lovers:

"Do you think it could be done?"

“I have already told you what I think.”

"But you haven't explained," Fingon persists, "you have only looked at me dolefully and proclaimed that it is not possible."

"Well, it is not," says Maedhros. He is lying curled in Fingon's arms, their ankles hooked together, and he is loath to disturb their contentment with arguing. Keeping his voice measured, he says, "If our strength were doubled I do not think it would be enough, Finno."

"The attack will come either way," Fingon says, also without much vigour. They have had this debate so many times now that it is become well-worn. "Why not meet it head on?"

"Because you have a defensible position here," Maedhros says patiently, "and a greater chance of holding than you do of storming the gates of Angband."

"My father did it," Fingon mutters.

"Your father died," Maedhros says, voice suddenly sharp.

Fingon looks at him. "Don't look so worried, beloved! I am quite turned off the idea of wasteful heroics these days."

"Then look to strengthening your defences," Maedhros says, "and drop this fool notion."

"But if we did try," says Fingon, "if we united all the Free Peoples under one banner, and marched on Angband together – think what we could achieve!"

His eyes are bright with hope. Maedhros hates to crush it, but crush it he must.

"Finno," he says, "the East is lost. My brothers do not have so strong a position in Amon Ereb that they can afford to march north to join in a war that could prove ruinous. Bór and his people are dead almost to a man. Belegost will no doubt have heard the rumours—"

Fingon glances at him sharply, but he speaks without bitterness. Which is concerning in itself, but Fingon decides to let it slide for now.

"—and there is little help to be expected from other corners," Maedhros continues. "Doriath has strength to spare, but Thingol hates you."

Fingon shifts uncomfortably. He never actually told Maedhros why Thingol hates him now.

"Nargothrond," he says, to change the subject. "Orodreth will answer to his High King."

"Orodreth!" says Maedhros, dismissively. “A king too ruled by the whims of his people. If he had any spine he would have turned my brothers out of Nargothrond immediately, and Finrod might have lived.”

If Fingon were crueller he might say, You didn't manage to control your brothers that well yourself. Instead he says, "But the people of Nargothrond are many and valiant. We should not discount them."

"If Nargothrond wishes to stay out of the wars of the north," says Maedhros, "I think it would be prudent to allow them to do so." There is a thoughtful, uneasy look in his grey eyes.

Fingon gauges it correctly and says, "Are you worried for your nephew?"

Maedhros looks at him unhappily. "Everyone in Beleriand knows what a mess – Curvo – made of – everything," he says.

(A year might have passed, but Maedhros still does not much like to speak of Curufin.)

"Tyelpë is safe in Nargothrond, where his father's deeds cannot taint him," Maedhros says. "I would keep him so." Then he shrugs. "But my opinion carries no weight now, beloved. Do as you will, and I will support you, for all that is worth."

"It carries weight with me," Fingon says fiercely. "And I am not ashamed to say so. But you have not yet heard the key element in my plan."

Maedhros smiles despite himself, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can keep his eyes focused on Fingon's face. The mass of his silken hair is pooled on Fingon's bare chest. "Go on, then," he says, indulgent.

"Gondolin," Fingon says triumphantly. "My brother took a third of our host with him when he disappeared, and yet more of the Sindar went with him. They have lived in peace for more than three hundred years; their numbers must be great."

Maedhros does not seem as delighted with this idea as Fingon is. "Finno, you don't know where Gondolin is."

"The Eagles bring them tidings, clearly," Fingon points out; "else they would have opened the leaguer and come to our aid when they saw the fires of the Dagor Bragollach on the horizon."

Maedhros frowns, attempting to parse this extremely backwards logic. Eventually, he says, "If Hithlum falls, Gondolin will be the last stronghold of the Noldor in the north. I do not know if its position should be risked."

"All war is risk, beloved," says Fingon, "and if I were to call upon my brother, Hithlum will not fall."

Maedhros says, as if he has been saving this blow for last, "Finno, if you call upon Turgon, will he even answer?"

It has been more than three hundred years, since Fingon last saw his brother.

“Do you think he won’t?” he asks, more sharply than he means to.

(Turgon didn’t tell him he was going. He didn’t tell anyone. He just – vanished.)

Sometimes Maedhros thinks things were easier during Maglor’s long convalescence, when his only concern was his brother, when every sleepless night was because Maglor needed someone to sit up with him and every meal was whatever invalid's food Maglor could be persuaded to choke down – when Fingon was his strength and steadiness, and Maedhros could yet wrap his blue cloak around him like armour.

Selfish – selfish. Maglor is better now, and Maedhros is so, so glad; and Fingon cannot always be his strength. Sometimes Maedhros must be his.

"I am sure he will," he says, contrite. He presses a kiss to Fingon's tense jawline. "I just don't think it wise to ask him."

Fingon sighs and puts his arms around Maedhros. "Fine," he concedes. "Perhaps you are right."

But later, when they have extricated themselves from their warm tangle of limbs and risen for the day, he sits down to write a letter.

A few days later the High King's messenger, having ridden swiftly along the Ered Wethrin and into Dor-lómin, nearly collides with a small child playing near the road.

"Be careful!" cries Lúthien, dropping Beren's hand and rushing forward to snatch the child up.

The messenger gapes at her, for it seems to him as though she has materialised out of the shadows themselves. Then, when he gets better look at her beauty, he gapes even more.

Lúthien is not paying attention. All her focus is on the little golden-haired creature in her arms. "That was nearly very dangerous for you, wasn't it, sweetheart?" she coos. "But you don't seem frightened at all. What's your name, dear one?"

The little girl giggles and hides her face in Lúthien's sleeve without answering.

Beren feels a little dizzy, looking at the picture that they make, and at the bright tender look on his wife's face. Someday, he tells himself, someday.

He looks around. The messenger has dismounted; it seems the great house up ahead is his destination. A house of lords, clearly, surrounded by gardens as lovely as any in the chilly northlands, and with a bubbling stream running just past its walls.

Well, here they are.

He is pondering what the etiquette is here – should they knock? wait here until someone spots them? – when he catches sight of a second child, a little older, dark-haired, watching them intently from around a tree-trunk.

"Good day, lad," Beren says gravely. "Might I ask your name, and those of your parents?"

The boy regards him with suspicion for a while, before he finally says, "I am Túrin son of Húrin, and that is my sister Lalaith."

(One little-appreciated consequence of the fall of Himring: for the last year, Morgoth's attention has been on the final desecration of the March of Maedhros. He did not have time to send the Evil Breath to Dor-lómin.)

"Lalaith!" Lúthien says, delighted. "What a fitting name."

"Then, son of Húrin," says Beren, "we have reached our destination indeed. Might you do me the honour of introducing us to your parents?"

Túrin looks unimpressed. "Who are you?" he asks.

"My name is Beren son of Barahir," says Beren, "and we are kinsmen, son of Morwen."

Túrin frowns even more. "How do you know my mother's name?" he demands. "And Beren is dead."

Kind of hard to argue with that.

Before Beren can come up with a suitable response there is a small noise from the direction of the house: the children's mother has come out to call them in for the evening meal. She stands so still she might be made of stone, were it not for the wind whipping up her dark hair behind her.

Beren finds his own mouth is very dry.

He buried Baragund his cousin, and avenged him; and he has not thought of his slaughtered companions for a long time.

(There's only so much survivor's guilt one person can have, and it is usually the screams of Finrod and his Ten that haunt Beren's nightmares.)

Morwen is not now the thirteen-year-old he remembers, her face sterner and more sorrowful, but somehow she is the image of her dead father.

"Hello, little cousin," he croaks out.

Morwen stares at him.

Lúthien comes to the rescue. "You must be the lady Morwen," she says warmly, setting Lalaith down so that she can drop into a graceful curtsey. Her Taliska is hesitant, but beautiful. (Everything about Lúthien is beautiful.) "Beren has told me so much of you. And your children are charming."

"Beren's dead," Morwen says at last, shakily. "And – you—"

"I was dead," says Beren, "but now I'm not. I don't know how to explain it, cousin, but—" He holds his hand out to her, letting the Ring of Barahir gleam green upon his finger in the setting sun. "It really is me."

Morwen makes another small sound, swaying where she stands. Her hand rests on her son's dark head as though he is the only thing keeping her upright.

"Mother?" Túrin says nervously.

Before things can get any more awkward the lord of the house comes out to seek his family, perhaps wondering what is taking them so long. "Morwen," he says quietly, seeing her stiff posture.

But Morwen takes a breath. "We have guests, Húrin," she says, composed again. "This is my kinsman Beren Erchamion, and his – and his wife, the Princess of Doriath."

Lúthien turns her dazzling smile on Húrin. "A pleasure to meet you," she says gaily. "But call me rather the Lady of Dorthonion."

(to be continued)

[sameheart-sameblood]

For the Good of the Realm

pairing: prince aemond x f!reader

summary: aemond reassures you of his love after you find out about his betrothal

words: 3.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, piv, fingering, angst, swearing, aemond probably being way more soft than is canon but hey im depressed let me do what i want

a/n: i've had zero motivation to write the last month but thankfully this little war criminal came along and lit a fire under me. ugh i just wanna hold his hand and maybe take him to therapy lol. also i'm being a bit revisionist and making it so he didn't kill a little kid right before the events of this fic.........

read on ao3!

Word of the betrothal spreads through the Red Keep slowly at first, then accelerates like green wildfire. Soon enough, the news seeps out of the walls of the castle and is whispered from ear to ear all throughout Westeros. You wouldn’t be surprised if the Free Cities on the distant shores of the Narrow Sea had heard it before you. Of course, in actuality you had learned of it well before most people but you should have been the first. You were owed that much.

The narrow staircase proves difficult to dart up. You lose your footing several times but ignore the scrapes and bruises that surely will need attending to. None of that matters now as you try desperately to get away from the one person you thought you could trust. Tears blur your sight, not helping your ascent. Slipping once more, you hike your skirt up and make a mad dash for the top of the steps, all the while the memories of your time in King’s Landing swirling through your head. 

You had been fifteen years old when father had received a royal summons. He and your mother had gawped at the thick stationary signed with King Viserys’ emblem that fell at their feet, spirited to you by one of the Red Keep’s impressive ravens. The letter, it turned out, was not summons for one of your brothers to join court but for you instead. 

Your house was small but proud, having served the Targaryens loyally through bloody wars and blessed peace. While no Baratheons or Lannisters, your family had proved faithful and the king felt that should be rewarded. It had been agreed that you would serve as a lady-in-waiting to the Princess Helaena, who was also around your age. 

While an unexpected request, there was no question if you would go. Such an invitation was a great honor and as the daughter of an uncelebrated house, it was the best case scenario for you. If you stayed at your family’s lands there was little chance of marrying outside of your circle. However, with you being sent to court, you knew the silent hope on everyone’s mind was that you might catch the eye of some higher born lord. Over a decade had passed and indeed you had attracted the attention of someone of a much higher station than yours.  Much too high for the likes of you. 

He’s not far behind you, his pleads for you to stop and listen to him echoing off the stony steps. You daren’t turn and face him, knowing one glimpse of his face will only weaken your resolve. Nothing he can say will change things anyway. He’s engaged to a lady of proper status that would well suit a prince. Though it breaks your heart, you know there’s nothing to be done. You’ll pack your things and return home, tail between your legs. The thought of the disappointment from your family washes over you but you put your head down and trudge onwards. What is their disappointment when compared with your forever hardened heart.

Reaching the top of the stairs you run to your room, slamming the door behind you. Frantically, you pull out a traveling chest and begin stuffing all of your belongings into it. It’s haphazard and your mother will scold you to no end when she sees the state of your clothes but you just need to be on your way. The sooner you leave King’s Landing, the sooner you can purge yourself of all the memories that hold you there. 

Hurried footsteps approach your door and you’re not surprised when it opens without so much as a knock. Aemond stands there for a moment, catching his breath. You pay him little mind, continuing your packing. His eyebrows knit together with worry when he realizes what you’re doing. 

“Where are you going?” he asks tightly. 

Letting out a pained laugh you answer. “It seems as if I’m no longer of use here. Do not worry, my prince. Soon you shall be rid of me.”

Aemond looks as if you had just started speaking Dothraki to him. “What do you mean ‘your use here’?”

Your anger overtakes you and you throw down the dress you were carelessly folding. “I mean I was nothing more than a pawn. I was a convenient way for you to learn the ways of women and how to please them. Now that you’ve had your fun with me and gleaned all you can you’re free to move on to a proper lady.”

Aemond looks at you with such heartbroken confusion that you bow your head, lest he see the tears brimming in your eyes. You push past the urge to comfort him. It is you who deserve comforting, you remind yourself. 

“I have no desire to marry that Baratheon girl. When I went to speak with Lord Borros at Storm’s End yesterday the only term he would accept for pledging to House Targaryen was a marriage to unite the families. We’re already losing if we don’t have him on our side,” he says. 

“That means you had a whole day to tell me. I had to hear it from your brother. He was more than happy to let me know.” You scowl, remembering the almost skip in Aegon’s step as he had whispered the news to you during dinner. 

Your prince curses darkly under his breath. “Of course it was Aegon. That prick.”

Nodding you sit at your vanity and begin organizing your small collection of jewelry and trinkets. Aemond swallows down his anger at Aegon and kneels by your side. You refuse to look at him. He doesn’t touch you, worried that might spook you. 

“I spent all of yesterday trying to think of a way out of it. I went to the small council, my grandfather the Hand, even my mother…” he stalls, not finishing the thought. It’s evident what he doesn’t have the courage to say. 

Instead, you finish for him. “…but they told you that in order to ensure a Targaryen victory they need an alliance with Storm’s End. Which means you have no choice but to marry Lady Ellyn. For the good of the realm.” 

“For the good of the realm,” Aemond parrots back bitterly. 

There’s nothing to be done. Rationally, you know that. He is a prince with a duty to his kingdom. You were lucky to have him to yourself for as long as you did. In your heart, though, you know you will never love like this for a long time. Maybe never again for if this is what true heartbreak feels like then you would rather die than repeat it again. 

The last piece of jewelry you find is a brilliant, blue sapphire necklace that Aemond had gifted you three namedays ago. “As blue as the Sea of Dorne,” he’d murmured to you as you had admired it. The Aemond who had gifted it to you then had fewer worries and bigger promises. You had laughed that it was indeed beautiful but you would have to take his word for it, you’d never seen the Sea of Dorne. At that, your prince had grabbed you by the hand and spirited you away on Vhagar, determined to show it to you right away. The ride on the dragon had not been exceptionally long, but once the deep blue waters came into view, it felt like you and Aemond had entered a world all your own. 

Back in your chambers, though, reality has caught up with the both of you. Aemond watches you study the necklace, then rests his head against your arm. “Tell me that you want to run away with me and we’ll go right now, like we did all those years ago.”

You caress his hair for a moment, reveling in the realization that you could run away. With Vhagar to take you, no one would be able to follow. And if they did, Aemond and his dragon would make them understand that the two of you were free to do as you pleased. Real life once again makes your dreams crash down around you. Gently, you extricate yourself from Aemond’s embrace and put the last of your jewelry into the trunk. 

He watches you as you close the lock with a resounding and final clunk. You turn to him, trying to look strong. “I would not ask that of you, my prince. I would not separate you from your family and leave them to despair and failure. They need your strength. We must accept that.”

For a moment, you think you’ve convinced him that you should do the responsible thing. But you should know better than anyone that Aemond never accepts defeat. His once soft and broken expression morphs into one of impassioned determination. He rises, striding to you before you realize what’s happening. Standing before you, he seems a giant, intimidating and alluring all at once. 

“Tell me you no longer want me and I’ll marry that Baratheon bitch,” he says steadily. 

You know you can’t. “Aemond…”

He continues, emboldened by your clear devotion to him still. “Tell me you no longer need me and I’ll walk out of here right now.”

Tears begin to course down your cheeks as you try to find the words. It’s useless, though, and Aemond knows it. He lowers his voice to a hushed, honeyed whisper. 

“Tell me you no longer love me and you need never see my face again.” 

Any resolve remaining in you dissipates and you close the gap between you, whispering his name pitifully before you bring your lips to his. At first it’s sweet and tentative, two lovers reminding each other of their affection. But at your first whimper, Aemond deepens the kiss, holding you close to him, your bodies molding together. 

In an instant, he’s ripping you out of your dress. Aemond doesn’t wait for it to completely fall off, satisfied with your bodice no longer in the way of what he wants. He turns you around so suddenly, you gasp, trying not to lose your footing. You needn’t worry though, he catches you, pressing your back to his chest. Even through the skirt that still clings to your body and the leather of his pants, you can feel him hard as dragonscale. 

The both of you revel in the feeling for a minute, you pushing back into him and Aemond kneading your hips comfortingly. The spell is broken by another of your pitiful moans as you seek more friction. Aemond chuckles, “Impatient as ever, my love.”

Knowing exactly what you want after years of exploring your body, Aemond brings his hands up to cup your breasts. Your head lolls back onto his shoulders as he massages them gently. His hands are calloused from years of sword fighting and it makes you shiver. Without even seeing him, you just know he’s smirking. Aemond removes one of his hands, squeezing your nipple before he abandons it. The sound of more tearing fabric reaches your ears as he pulls off your skirt. 

You whine until you feel him slide his hand along your belly, giving you goose bumps. His hand cups your cunt, pulling you back into him again, his other hand still working at your breast. Aemond slips a finger through your folds, chuckling at how worked up you are. He takes pity on you and begins rubbing languid circles on your clit as he kisses softly down your neck. It’s definitely sacrilege to think but you’re sure this must surpass any of the seven heavens the septons preach about. 

There’s one thing that could make this heaven even better. You put your hands on Aemond’s to signal him to stop and he turns you around, worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” His breathing is heavy and you smirk when you realize he’s just as excited as you are. You lay a hand on his cheek and he smiles, closing his eyes as he leans into it. 

“I want to feel you, my dragon.” 

Aemond begins to undress himself. “Please,” you whisper, “let me do it.” His breathing quickens even more as he nods. Fingers trembling, you undo the buckles of his shirt. Usually, time together is limited and Aemond would do this task himself to speed things along. Instinctively, he reaches to help you but you playfully shoo his hands away. He watches you with a fond smile as you get the hang of it. Buckles undone, you shimmy the shirt off of him and toss it aside. His chest bare, you can’t help running your hands over it, mapping the expanse of the scars that run across it. Aemond shudders and groans. You could do this all day but he’s getting restless. “Please, my love.”

Chuckling, you begin undoing his trousers. “Who’s the impatient one now?”

You bend down to help him step out of them. Once free of all of his clothes, he tries to get you to stand but you stare up at him with a smirk. He’s right there, hard and ready begging to be touched. Your hand closes around his cock and he moans. You mean to take him in your mouth but Aemond has other plans. “Not now. I’ve other plans for you tonight.”

He pulls you up and you yelp in surprise. “Aemond, wait.”

Tonight, you want him truly naked. “I want to see all of you, Aemond.” He knows exactly what you mean and after a moment, he nods. You reach up carefully and undo the patch that covers his missing eye. You’re greeted with a dazzling sapphire that matches the necklace he gifted you. If Aemond had his way, he wouldn’t wear the covering at all but he knows that without it the people of court deem him more of a monster than they already do. Part of him is still a scared little boy who wonders if maybe they’re right. 

You hold his face as you reach up on tiptoes to tenderly kiss the scar across his eye that constantly reminds him of the loss. In return, Aemond kisses you hard and lustily. He pushes you back on the bed and you giggle as you bounce slightly. As you look up at him, he undoes the clasp holding his hair back and lets his silvery gold locks fall freely around his face. 

Now he’s ready to take you. 

Aemond lowers himself on the bed and crawls towards you. Intuitively, you open your legs for him and he rests between them, like a panther assessing his prey. He stares down at you, caressing your cheek. You’re sure you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. You don’t have long to admire him though as he’s set in motion. Aemond kisses you fiercely, then grabs one of your knees, bending it up towards your chest to give him better access to your cunt. He presses a finger into you, stretching you as you whimper. 

As he works you open, he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks lazily. When your whimpers turn to moans, he adds a second finger. He curls them inside you, searching for the place that makes you see stars. It doesn’t take him long to find it. It never does. Aemond sits back up to focus on his task. As he presses on the spot, you prop yourself on your elbows and watch him at his work. He feels your gaze and stares right back at you, grinning. Your mouth falls open as he presses harder and faster. The noises you’re making are animalistic and it’s a wonder you haven’t woken up the whole castle. 

Aemond brings his lips to your clit and sucks as he presses more insistently. The pleasure crashes over you and you come suddenly, wailing as you fall back down into the pillows. Normally, your lover would give you a moment to recover but deep down both of you know this might be your last night together. A second after your undoing, Aemond’s crawling over you and pressing his cock to your entrance. You grab his ass, trying to push him inside of you faster. He takes the hint and slips inside, both of you moaning in unison. 

The prince pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of being enveloped in you. You let him stay there a moment then tease him by squeezing your walls around his cock, bringing him back to the present. The smirk is wiped off your face and replaced with a satisfied sigh as he pushes into you over and over again. The overstimulation gives way to pleasure again and you know you won’t last much longer. But you want to hold out and wait for Aemond to finish with you. 

Aemond’s lips come to yours as he continues to rut into you. Wrapping your legs around him, he speeds up and buries his face in your neck. You cradle him against you as you let the bliss you’re feeling push away all the thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow. Your prince hits a particularly sensitive spot in you and your nails scratch down his back as you come once more. Aemond follows after you shortly, groaning as he finishes inside of you. 

You lay there for a moment, both of you sweaty and satisfied. Aemond moans happily as you run your fingers through his soft hair. After a few minutes, he rolls off you and pulls you into his chest. Thoughts of what you’ve been avoiding creep back into your mind and based on how quiet Aemond is, you know he’s thinking it too. You’ll be damned though if you’re the first one to break the reverie you’re in. 

Aemond breaks the silence for you. “I want to marry you” 

You gaze up at him and smile sadly. “I want the same. Though I don’t think the gods will allow it, my prince.”

“Gods be damned. Let me take you away from here. We can marry before my mother even knows we’re gone. She’ll have no choice but accept once she sees the truth of it.”

You think back on your history lesson from Maester Gerardys. “We’ll be like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne?” It’s a folly and you say it as such but Aemond is invigorated by the thought. 

“They married against the wishes of their mother. Why shouldn’t I? Everyone thought their union would throw the realm into chaos but it didn’t. Ours would be just as blessed.”

It pains you to be the one to bring the dream to an end but the kingdom hangs in the balance. “But what of Borros Baratheon?”

Aemond sneers, “That illiterate bastard can find another to marry his daughter. If he breaks his oath and runs back to Rhaenyra then Vhagar and I shall pay him a visit he shan’t soon forget.”

You want to argue more, beg Aemond to see reason. But the hour grows late and your body craves sleep. You snuggle up to him and close your eyes. Aemond takes your silence for an agreement. 

“We’ll fly away tomorrow. Wherever we land we’ll find a septon to wed us.”

You hum a sleepy “Of course, Aemond.” 

The prince looks down at you and smiles sadly. He’s not stupid. You’re only placating him but doesn’t matter. His plan is a dream but it’s something to hold on to until tomorrow brings about the stark reality of your situation. 

But those are troubles that sleep will wave away. Aemond blows out the candle and brings the blanket up to cover your shoulders. Soon sleep descends on him and his eyes get heavy. Before he’s completely overtaken he murmurs to you in High Valyrian. 

“Avy jorrāelan”

He doesn’t expect a response but breaks into a sluggish grin as you whisper back. 

“I love you too, Aemond.”

******

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, Where Lucerys enters the harem)

Lucerys was the only one who managed to escape the assassination attempt, though he still bore a scar on his cheek when his attacked tried to slice his face. He hid himself, praying to all the gods that the rest of his family survived, but to no avail. He watched as the traitors dragged the body of his pregnant mother, the soon-to-be-Empress of the throne, her Prince and Lord consorts, and his brothers and presented it to the cheering crowd. He could only stand by and watch in anger, in anguish, as they burned them all. Again, he could do nothing as they crowned Aemond as the new Emperor of the Realms. He hid himself away, pretended to be a fisherman, until a letter was sent to him from the Imperial palace.

He was panicking, thinking that Aemond would now exact his revenge on him, now that he was without the protection of his mother and fathers. But it wasn't from his uncle. No, it was from his favored concubine, the one rumored to have the highest chance of becoming empress, his aunt, Alys.

She wrote to him in haste, telling him that she knows of his desire, that even if he's safer pretending he had no relation to the Targaryen royalty, she knows what he truly wished to do. To take revenge. For his entire family, for her brother, she asked him to enter the palace once again, to help her destroy the Hightowers from the inside. She told him she would give him a way to enter without suspicion, and that if he truly wished to avenge the family, he would take it.

At first, Lucerys thought that she was talking about entering the palace as a servant, for he was much too small to pretend to be a beta guard.

Then the announcement to bring possible attendants for the concubines rang all throughout the Realms, and he understood his aunt's plan. He needed to enter as his aunt's attendants. Being an attendant would mean being the closest to her aunt, under her protection. It also meant being targeted by other concubines and attendants who vy for the attention of the emperor. He needed to do his best.

His aunt sent clothes the moment he agreed to her wishes. Soft clothes that reminded him of the past luxuries he had. He also gave him a veil to cover up the scar. Years ago, it would have been impossible for him to enter even as a servant with his scar, but the Emperor, who was scarred himself, allowed it, as long as they would wear something to hide the healed injury.

It was the first time he ever thanked the gods he scarred his uncle.

He knew what it took to be an attendant, he pretended to be a beta, and he managed to pass every possible test with flying colors. He was, of course, given to Alys, who asked for him personally. He was the only new attendant she chose, and the moment the doors closed, she hugged him tight.

She gives him the herbs he needed to cover up his scent and deal with his heat. He, in return, learned of many things. He spied, he played along, he managed to capture the heart of guards and servants alike. Soon, he became Alys' most trusted attendant, her closest confendant.

Everything was going fine. He managed to feed Aemond's pregnant concubine moon tea, he shielded his aunt from attempts to ruin her beauty and reputation, and raise his own reputation as a perfect attendant.

Then an imperial court order arrived. He thought it would be for Alys, maybe a rise in ranks? Maybe a new gift?

It was instead addressed to him. His uncle noticed him, or rather, noticed that he was in fact an omega. He may not know it was his nephew, but to Lucerys, it felt like he was getting closer and closer to the execution block. He was to be raised from attendant to low ranking concubine.

He had to accept the order.

His aunt wasn't displeased. If anything, she looked like she knew it would happen.

"Lucerys, you need to rise the ranks. Higher than me, higher than Imperial Consort. You need to be Empress. I have no powerful allies I can depend on if I wear the crown, but if you, the Black Empress' last living child, wears it, your mother's supporters will rally. They will fight for you. Once you reach the rank of Empress, reveal yourself to your grandfather, Corlys. It will better your chances of gaining his alliance. The rest will soon follow."

Soon, Lucerys had his heat, an intense one after so many months of taking herbs. To his dismay, the Emperor was approaching his rut, and decided to spend it with him. He prayed to the gods Aemond wouldn't recognize him, prayed that the twelve years of not seeing each other would help Lucerys escape his uncle's recognition.

His uncle didn't ask him to remove his veil, it being the only thing that stayed on for his entire heat.

It became clear that he became the new favorite, his rank raising from low ranking concubine, to mid ranking concubine after only two months, to the jealousy of the others.

To further add insult to their injury, Emperor Aemond only ever visited Lucerys, even Alys never got this much attention. Again, he he didn't ask Lucerys to take of the veil, an odd thing Lucerys was both curious and grateful for. Aemond would pamper him. He would reach under his veil and feed him, he would place him on his lap, inhaling the scent from his nape, he would even ask him to wear certain clothing. Clothing Lucerys knew he would have worn had he stayed a prince. Lucerys is getting worried his uncle might have recognized him.

What he didn't know was that Aemond never really though of him as anything other than his nephew's replica, a replacement for his Lucerys. He had the same eyes, the same curly hair he remembered from the last banquet they had together, hells, he even smelt alike, though the scent of the sea is stronger with this boy. Aemond refuses to let him remove the veil because he believed it would destroy his fantasy of him being his nephew. He would pamper him, and perhaps, once his seed would take, he would imagine it was his son with Lucerys.

And so it became like this for a few weeks, Lucerys being nervous that his uncle might actually know who he was and kill him, and Aemond believing that he found the perfect replica of Lucerys, using him to further his fantasies.

Once Lucerys found out (his uncle moaned his name, his real name, then quickly told him to forget what he said once they were done copulating), it eased his anxiety, and he decided to use his uncle's favoritism to his advantage. Something as small as adding more Targaryen decor, replacing his mother's decoration with ones from Lucerys' memory, to something as large as sawing discord, using ones he found out as an attendant, pointing out possible trickery from his family members, the Hightowers, and others from the greens' inner circles.

He continues to rise the ranks, swiftly dealing with the other concubines and consorts, sometimes with the help of his aunt, Alys, and ensuring that Aemond would come to trust him, and his words, slowly making Aemond unable to trust his Hightower side of the family, along with his inner circle, forcing him to only trust Corlys, who did his job splendidly (according to Lucerys) and the Maester Gerardys, who was loyal to the crown (who knew it was Lucerys the moment he laid eyes on him).

Soon, Lucerys reached the rank of Empress, and by then Aemond ignored the advices and words of his council, in fact, he got rid of some of his most loyal men in favor of the men who were once loyal to Rhaenyra, and only ever listened to his Empress' words. Many of the loyal greens tried to get rid of Lucerys, but were quickly blocked by the Emperor himself. What was more, the Empress already gave birth to three children, the only children of the Emperor (despite the large amount of women and omegas sent by the green council) two of which are men, an heir and a spare. The smallfolk adored him, the nobles he placed on the small council, though wary of him at first, began to admire him, and when he revealed to them who he truly was, they swore their loyalty to him. Corlys and Maester Gerardys wept for the return of their sweet boy, their dead that rose again.

Soon, everyone knew, while the Emperor may be said to rule, it was the Empress who was in command.

And once Lucerys have taken over and became the one in power, overthrowing his husband and making him Prince consort, imprisoning him in his chambers, once he revealed to Aemond who he truly was, it was then that Lucerys truly won.

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

Today's inspiration:

[misguidedasgardian]

The White Dragon (7)

7. Seeds of mistrust

MASTERLIST

Summary: Too many Targaryen under one roof, eventually something had to go down. 

Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, drama! everywhere, death of a secondary character, Targaryen incest (not reader), Viserys gaslighting himself and everyone else 😂, talks about death in childbirth. Might miss some warnings 

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.4 k

Notes: Let’s plant the seed of scorn between the family, shall we?

“He… just, fell”, Joanna cried to the commander of the Targaryen soldiers, the ones that guarded the inside of the castle. You comforted her, rubbing her back gently, “He came in the night, he was so drunk he couldn’t stand properly”, she continued, “he claimed he was hot and wanted to feel the air, so he came close to the window and just, he fell!” 

“We are so sorry for your loss, Lady Joanna”, muttered the soldier, nodding and leaving the room. Leaving you alone with Ser Steffon, Joanna and you

“I’m so sorry M’Lady”, said Steffon, “I was guarding the corridors and I should have help him”, oh he help him alright, you thought, falling off that window

“You have nothing to be sorry for” she sniffed, she recovered quickly, cleaning her tears but not letting others fall down. 

“I’ll let you be”, you said to her, “so you can put everything in order”, writing a letter to the Reynes and his siblings you gathered.

You left with Ser Steffon walking beside you

“You are not a common sellsword”, you assured, “I don’t think of you in that way…”

“I know” he reassured you, “I told you I would make it look like an accident”

“She mustn't know, nobody can know”

“I promised to guard your secrets, didn't I?”

“You certainly did” you giggled

You didn't feel remorse when you sent Ser Steffon to hide in the balcony and push that wretched man off. Luckily Joanna was changing behind a screen on the other side of the chamber, and Steffon climbed off to leave in another room. So nobody knew what truly happened

“I promise i will never asked anything like this ever again” 

“you are a good person, for protecting your friend”, he whispered

“Still…”, you assured him, while you walked away with your hand in your belly

Alicent was leaving the Septon after her morning prayers, when she was boarded by the the youngest of Ser Lyonel’s children, Ser Larys

“A pity what happened last night”, he commenced. Alicent rolled her eyes, but when she turned to look at him, she drew a small smile, “a young man, falling from a window”

“The abuse of wine and other splurges will treat everyone the same way, no matter their nobility”, she observed. Criston, behind her looked at the young Strong with suspicion, he didn’t like the man, nor did he trust him 

“Yes, well, she left her young wife, I wonder if she is relieved or saddened?”

“That is horrible, why would she be relieved?”, she snapped, her patience short.

“It was no secret that he enjoyed mistreating her, your grace, let just say that she wasn’t allowed to wear short sleeved dresses anymore”, 

“If that’s true, good riddance then, seems like the Gods did their job, punishing him”, she said severely

“The gods, or a certain Kingsguard who is the sworn sword of the widow’s best friend? He seemed to be roaming the hallways at that hour of the night”, and with that he left the Queen, pondering, calculating

And her own mind started tormenting her, she started to doubt 

When Alicent entered the private chambers of the king, Lord Lyonel was with him. Is not that she didn’t like the man, she just would have preferred that it was his Father in its place as the hand of the king, not him. 

“Are you certain, Lyonel?”

“I’m afraid so, your grace” 

“What is going on?”, she asked. Lyonel didn’t say anything

“Nothing you should worry about my love”, muttered Viserys with a shy smile, if only Alicent knew they were talking about how the Rogue Prince was seen leaving Princess’ Rhaenyra’s chambers after the hour of the bat. 

The hand of the King left the room after bowing.                                                                                                                            

“I need to speak to you, my love”, by her tone he already knew this couldn’t be good, and right now, he was tired of the events of the day. A nobleman died falling from a window and a scared group of young ladies of the court had the bad luck to be the first to come across his dead body. 

“Yes, my love” answered the king with a tired smile 

“It’s about the accident, if it was an accident”, she muttered

“It was an accident, dear,” he said, already tired. 

“How can we be sure?”, she asked then, “A nobleman died under your roof! Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“They said the man was so drunk he could barely walk!”, he reasoned, “Last night was hot, he came into the window, tripped and fell, I don’t see what is strange about it” 

“Don’t you think it’s odd?”, she muttered. Viserys grabbed her hand and squeezed gently, “Ser Steffon was seen close to the place he fell from the balcony”

“What are you saying? that Ser Steffon pushed that man out of the balcony?” he laughed 

“She could perfectly have commanded it!” she snapped, “Joanna is the lady friend of your daughter” 

“Alicent…” he called

 “You can’t let this slide!” she said, “One of your daughters is having people thrown off of balconies and the other clearly has a child that…”

“Clearly what?”, his face was dead serious, and Alicent doubted her own words. 

“Viserys”, she called, silently begging him to not make her say it

“And (Y/N) made Ser Steffon kill her friend's husband?”, he laughed, again, “That is nonsense,” he laughed, “why would she do that?”

“They say he mistreated her”, she continued, “Joanna just encountered your daughter a week ago in her birthday celebrations, she told her, and your daughter made Jon Reyne came to the capital where she could slein him”

“Alicent, I’m sorry my love, I know baby Aemond is keeping you up at night, and you must be so tired”. If Alicent wasn’t so devoted to his husband, she would cry and scream and hit his chest

“Viserys…”, she felt like she was losing her mind

“Everyone is here!” Muttered Viserys, “my two daughters, now my brother, we should all gather for supper” he patted her shoulder and walked out of his own room. 

She walked down the halls with haste, and anger, Ser Criston swiftly followed 

“I don’t want to believe this!” she grunted in annoyance, “one of the princess committing adultery and the other having people killed?”

“They tend to do as they please”, he said, “they have no care for the consequences of their actions, because they will never suffer any”

“And Viserys does nothing!”, she said, “His senses are dormant”

And when the night fell over King's Landing, Alicent sat at the longtable, at the side of the King, looking at both princesses, talking and laughing, she became angry, upset. Harwin was there, the father of Rhaenyra’s first child, she knew it, everybody knew it, and yet her husband the King rewarded him and married him to another princess. And she knew about her own husband’s tryst and did nothing, she was an accomplice to it. And then she had his own Kingsguard throw a man out the window, to kill him.

The same Kingsguard placed at the door with Ser Harrold, smiling, he just kept going like nothing happened. 

It wasn’t fair

They couldn’t just keep going, doing whatever they pleased, committing adultery, cuckolding Ser Laenor, lying about it, and now killing a man. Was the baby in the princess belly even Ser Harwin’s? perhaps she had gotten a lover of her own. That is why they were all so content with one another, they were all in it together. Everybody knew about Ser Laenor’s preferences as well.

Alicent was grabbing her silverware so tightly her knuckles turned white. 

You were eating when you felt again a strong kick in your belly, smiling, you grabbed Harwin’s hand and placed it right there when he felt it too. He smiled widely, leaning in and kissing your temple

“Our child”, he purred

“I think it’s a boy” you whispered

“Really?, I think it’s a girl”, he whispered back. Oh you really would love to have a little girl

“What are you two love birds whispering about?”, chuckled Ser Leanor. Harwin kept his hand on your belly while he kept eating with the other one

“Harwin thinks we are having a girl!”, you giggled, “I think it’s a boy”

“You definitely have the shape of a boy”, he noted, drinking sips of his wine. “a rounder belly, just like Rhaenyra’s”, it became awkward then. Rhaenyra’s face was hard to crack, she had an unreadable expression on her face, her lips sealed tight in a line.

“Whatever it is”, she muttered, “it’s going to be loved so dearly”, she said, if you did have to describe the look on her face, it would be one of bitterness. but luckily Ser Laenor didn’t got the tension that was building, instead he grabbed his cup and made a toast

“For our growing family!” he toasted, and your father, the king was the first to raise his cup

“For even more grandchildren!” he cheered 

The evening was beginning to turn pleasant, your family drinking wine and feasting, talking pleasantly. Laenor telling tales of his battles in the Stepstones, Harwin laughing, one hand holding wine and the other holding you. But your sister’s eyes were like daggers being thrown at you, and you couldn’t understand why

“And then I looked him right in the eyes and I just knew I had to beat him”, Harwin told, “There was no other way, He was the defending champion, if I wanted to be taken seriously I had to knock him down, whatever it took so I took my spear and started spurring my horse”

“I saw that tourney” laughed Ser Laenor

“you must have been like 6 years old” laughed Harwin, “I was barely 6 and 10”

“I was eight, but a tourney like that you don’t forget”, muttered Laenor, “They named you Ser Harwin Breakbones, the strongest night on the Seven Kingdoms”

“My very first tournament”, he growled with a nostalgic smile

“Did you win?” you asked, he smiled down at you and squeeze your side

“Weren’t you watching?” he asked, amused

“Well, I was 6” you giggled, “I was playing with my dolls inside the Red Keep”, he laughed leaning in and kissing you fast

“I didn’t win, Borros Baratheon knocked me off my horse like I weighed nothing” he laughed

“Then perhaps I did good by not being there”, you giggled

“Of course, being part of the lists isn’t nothing like being in an actual battle”, he muttered looking at Laenor

“War is terrible, but in the midst of a battle you forget about the misery and all that comes to mind is destroying the enemy no matter the cost, nor the consequences”, he said.

“Well, some will say that you are not a man until you’ve been to the battlefield” whispered Harwin

“That is not true, I would gladly give my manhood if it meant that no other man would have to be on the battlefield”, he whispered back. The conversation between he four of you being talk in whispers, not for the more “adults” to hear at the other side of the table 

“Lucky for us we are ladies”, you muttered, trying to ease the tension, Harwin caught the bait of course, squeezing your side again

“Oh really? Would you fly into battle atop your dragon, my princess?”

“Oh you can bet on it”, you assured, “But against whom do I wonder?”, your eyes diverted from the room and landed across the room. Perched on the stone wall, there were banners of your houses, Of course Targaryen, now Velaryon, and Strong, and…

You gasped when you realized… The tower in the hightower’s sigil, it was so alike the one in your dream, you looked to your left to see the Queen over, she was looking back at you with anger in her eyes, the dress she was weaning… the color like the green color of the flames

You only came back to the present when Harwin placed his hand on your belly again

“Hey, you there? Where did you go?” he whispered in your ear, and you smiled reassuringly

“I’m fine, love”, you reacted quickly, “Sorry”

“You tired?”, you nodded

“If you wish you could stay, I really want to go to sleep”, he nodded, kissing your cheek, and you stood from the table, “Good night everybody”, you paid your respects to your father and you abandoned the dining room in your way to your rooms

Harwin abandoned the dining room two hours later, when the wine had ceased. He was the last one to abandon the hall shortly after Rhaenyra and Laenor had, but as he was walking down the hallway, he was grabbed in the darkness and pulled into a room. He wasn’t afraid, he knew those hands quite well, but only when the moonlight hit her face he could confront her

“Rhaenyra” he called

“Harwin”, she answered, but then she smiled warmly, “I’ve miss you”

“You had seen me everyday”, he muttered, swallowing hard

“I missed you… inside me”

“Rhaenyra…” he warned

“Harwin…”, but when she saw he wouldn’t lean in to kiss her, she placed a hand in his chest, “it’s been so long”

“What do you want?”

“I want you…”

“I can’t”, he muttered firmly, "I don't..."

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m married”, he said, and didn't believe what she was saying, "we made her a promise, we are over" 

“So what…?”, she lean in to kiss him but he took a step back

“I love her”, he growled, “she has my baby in her belly, she is my wife, my family”

“I gave you a baby”

“That was a mistake, and Jacaerys is a Velaryon”

“Don’t say that”, she said back

“He wasn’t a mistake, but I can’t lay with you”

“Why?” she asked

“Because I love her, and I won’t betray her again” 

“What if I command it?”, she tried then, “A command from your princess?”

“Then call me traitor and have my head”, he said after a moment of silence, and when she said nothing

“I will always cherish those moments we had and when Jacaerys needs me, I will be there by his side, to protect him and guide him, but what we had is over”, and then he left the room, coming back to the quarters he shared… with you

He found curled up by the fire of the hearth,a  big thick blanket around you

“There you are, I thought you were tired”, he muttered

“I tried to find sleep, but the nightmares found me instead”, you whispered. He sat by your side and surrounded your shoulder with his arm and cuddled you to him. He kissed your head lovingly, as you cuddled by the fire 

“I never thought I’d have a wife, and a family of my own”, he whispered, looking at the flames

“Why?” you asked him, and he shook his head

“I just didn’t thought it was something on my reach, I’d thought I’d grow older first, replace my father as Lord of Harrenhal, and then when I’m fat, comfortable and tired I would have made a poor girl, daughter of another house of the Riverlands to marry me and warm my bed”, you giggled, amused

“Well, I’m not from the Riverlands and I wed you before you turned fat, tired and comfortable”, you muttered

“Are you from the king’s lands?” he asked

“No”, you whispered, “I was born in the Vale, in the Eyrie”

“Really?” he asked, amused

“In my mother’s home” you whispered then, “you married a girl from the Vale”, you mocked, and he chuckled. You grabbed his hand and placed it in your belly, where your baby was kicking, again

“Is restless, the little one”, he chuckled

“Very”, you giggled, “Sometimes it feels like it has more than 4 extremities” you whispered

“Is a dragon and a Strong”, he chuckled, “a great combination” 

“Indeed” 

You spent one hour by the fire until your husband convinced you to go to bed. Harwin right now was already asleep and it was late, but you grew terribly hungry, so you sneaked out of your room and walked down the hallway expecting a long walk towards the kitchens… but someone stopped you. Daemon was coming your way, and the only place he could be coming from… was Rhaenyra’s chambers

“Daemon?” you asked. But he shushed you 

“Don’t tell anyone” he growled, and you kept quiet

“I haven’t seen anything”, you muttered, “where are you going?” 

“I am no longer welcomed here”, he said with a faint smile

“Did something happen?” you asked

“Some disagreements with your father”, he continued, “besides my wife is waiting for me in Driftmark, and then we are flying back to Pentos” 

“I wish you a good fly back home to Pentos, where everyone is happy” you almost mocked 

“Not everybody” he muttered, turning his back to you

“Are you coming back?”, you asked. He only smiled

“I might”, your hand went to your belly, “Good luck with the birth”, he whispered with a sad look on his face.

“This child would want to meet his great uncle”

“Great uncle, very funny”, he chuckled, his mood improving, “I will come back to meet the brat”

“Well, thanks” you mocked, he smiled, giving you a tight hug and then he walked away from you, and kept walking until he disappeared behind a corner of the Hallway. 

If you dwell on your uncle and what he was doing in your sister’s chambers… and you decided against it, you didn’t want to think about it. 

Your nights ever since the night of your Name day had been plagued with different nightmares, the tower, the dragon. Why would you dream about Vhagar anyways? you had barely gazed upon the beast a couple of times and since your grandfather died and it flew away nobody had seen it. 

Silly dreams were far from turning you into a Dreamer, but if you were one you really desired to have a clearer sight of things. Clearer “visions”, if that’s what they were. After meeting your uncle you decided against your trip to the kitchen, the night was dark and the castle looked abandoned and it frightened you, instead you went back to bed

That night you dreamed you were atop the tower, with three huge dragons flying a top of your head, none of them devoured you or tried to… but you were restless nonetheless

Harwin however, dreamed about you, and him, together in Harrenhal with more than one child running around

You were about to give birth, a fortnight shy, or something like that, and you were feeling so heavy that you wanted to expel this child from your body at once. 

Your belly had become big, very, very big, the Grand Maester didn’t want to say anything, but you could see the concern in his old eyes. 

Today you felt especially tired, your nights were tormented with nightmares of the flaming tower, so instead of beginning your day as usual, you cuddled yourself in a long comfortable long chair placed by the window, your handmaiden Viola would bring you books and food and you covered yourself to the neck with a thick blanket and there is where your husband found you when he came back from the city watch

“Hey wifey” he leaned over you and kissed you in your temple, “Are you unwell?”

“I’m tired” you muttered, your hand caressing your big belly, “this baby is very big, I think… He is going to tear me apart when he is born” you whispered, caressing your belly

“Don’t say that” he whispered, but no words could comfort you, your belly was so large it amazed you, way bigger than Rhaenyra’s when she was pregnant with her first one, “We might be Strong’s but we are very gentle” he whispered with a shy smile on his lips. 

“Harwin” you called, he sat by your side in a second. “If something happens, I want you to save the baby”

“What?” he frowned, panic taking a grip in his face

“If there is a complication, you can cut my belly, save our child…”

“Don’t say that” he muttered, “Don’t ever say that”, he grabbed your hand in his and squeezed, reassuringly

“I’m making that decision”, you said firmly, “so you don’t have to” 

“There is no need to make it at all”, he kissed your temple as he caressed your big belly. “I want us to raise our child in Harrenhal, in our new home”

“I’d like that”, you whispered. “But what about the city watch?”

“Fuck the city watch”

“They were about to make you Commander”, you whispered

“I know my love, but first things first, let’s wait until we have our little one in our arms?”

“Yes” and for the first time in a couple of months, Harwin cuddled you into a dreamless sleep 

Taglist! ❤️ @tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013 @her-fandom-sanctum

More notes: I hope it was clear what i tried to do here... now Alicent hates reader too 😂 under her cloak of righteousness and all that... We are coming close to the "end" after next chapter we will have a time-lapse!

[dustofthedailylife]

Radish Salad

Ayato Birthday Special 2023

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Ayato x (gn!) Reader

Summary: Ayato invites you to dinner on his birthday (Ayato 2023 birthday special)

Tags: Fluff, SFW

A/N: The simp in me spurred me on to pen something for Ayato's birthday... and after seeing his birthday artwork I just knew I had to. So here we are. Happy Birthday, Ayato <3

You coincidentally ran into Ayato this morning as you were out running errands on your day off. 

As usual, it was a pleasant, albeit rare, encounter to see your employer, the Yashiro Commissioner, casually drink tea in the courtyard of Komore Teahouse. You knew he didn’t get time for himself a lot. Usually, he was either too busy dealing with public affairs which caused him to be rarely at home. Or he was drowning in so much paperwork that he holed himself up in his office.

You shyly waved in his direction and smiled which he returned with an enchanting smile himself.

You were just about to walk on again when you heard him call your name. Inevitably your heart euphorically skipped a beat in your chest. Yet you were aware that harboring the feelings you did for your employer wasn’t right or appropriate so you tried to limit your interactions with him as of late. You knew being too hopeful about it would just end up in a heartbreak.

“I see you’re enjoying your day off.” he remarked with a kind smile. “Care to join me for a cup of tea?”

“Oh, uhm. I’d love to Lord Kamisato but I’m somewhat occupied right now.”

“A pity.” he hummed taking a sip out of his teacup before speaking once more after he set it back down on the table. “I had a package brought over to your house earlier. Make sure to open it today, I have extended an invitation for my birthday banquet later today and I want my most trusted staff to be there as well this year.”

You had not been aware that today was Ayato’s birthday, as he was a man who usually kept his cards close to his chest. So it wasn’t a surprise you didn’t know about it. Yet for some reason you felt guilty about not knowing as well.

“Oh, I had no idea, my apologies. Happy Birthday, my Lord.” you bowed your head in reverence to which he was quick to lift his hand.

“No need. I appreciate the birthday wishes. And I hope to see you later at the Estate.”

“Of course.” you agreed excitedly, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from crinkling upwards in anticipation. You knew you shouldn’t read into it too much but he did say he wanted his most trusted staff to be there as well, which meant, you were amongst them. It made your heart swell with pride as well as hope. Although you didn’t want to admit the latter.

You rushed home to retrieve whatever package he sent to you, only to find it leaning on the stone steps in front of your home. 

It was a small package with a pastel blue envelope stuck to it. Your name on it, as well as the letter itself, was written in Ayato’s elegant penmanship. 

The thought that the man of your dreams sat down to carefully pen your name on this very envelope you were holding, made heat rise to your face and a tidal wave of emotion wash over you, enveloping you in a cozy and soft warmth that radiated throughout your entire body.

The feeling however would prove to be fleeting as soon as you saw what the package contained that the letter was attached to. You carefully unwrapped it with an erratically beating heart, fantasizing about what the package could contain. But instead of what you envisioned, all you found were… radishes?

Was this supposed to be some kind of joke you didn’t get, a custom you never heard of, or perhaps a secret message? You were puzzled beyond belief but quickly decided to make some radish salad out of them to bring to the banquet later. Maybe everyone invited got some sort of vegetable they were supposed to prepare something with, right?

A couple of hours later as the sun was already setting on the horizon. And with a bowl of freshly made radish salad in hand, you found yourself standing in front of the Kamisato Estate. 

Your heart was beating fast as you knocked on the big front door. You were sure you could even hear it, no thanks to how quiet it was at the Estate today overall.

Additionally, it seemed to stay quiet inside. After waiting a couple more minutes you knocked again without success before deciding to walk to the garden of the Estate to see if you’d find anyone there.

Were you too early?

Walking along the stone path you soon spotted Ayato who seemed to be in the midst of sword practice.

Entranced by his fluid movements, you found yourself slowly sneaking closer to him in order to not disturb his focus.

“Lord Kamisato?” you ushered as soon as he halted his movements for a moment.

He visibly flinched, turning around in just the blink of an eye with the Katana in his hand extended in your direction, the blade turning into liquid blue with only a flash of his vision. 

“My apologies. I did not realize it was you.” he exclaimed, his eyes widened in shock as he put the katana back into its sheath before walking over to you.

“No please, I should apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you, my Lord. You must’ve been focused.” you shook your head slightly before extending the bowl with the radish salad in his direction with a sheepish smile. “I made this. It may be nothing special but I didn’t know what else to do with the radishes.”

“Radishes?” he questioningly raised an eyebrow while training his eyes on the salad.

“You sent me radishes. The package?”

The confusion on his face made your heart drop. You must’ve misunderstood the message and had now embarrassed yourself beyond belief in front of him.

“There was nothing else in the package?” he inquired.

“No. Nothing, my Lord.”

“No necklace?”

“No neck– w-what?” you stammered. What did he mean by necklace? Why would he send you a necklace?

He inched closer to you, gently taking the bowl out of your hands to place it on the stairs next to you, before leaning on the fence next to you with one arm.

His face was now hovering so close to yours that you could see the sheen of sweat from his training glistening in the evening sun. His enchanting lilac eyes trained on yours as a soft smile played around his lips.

“You heard me. I had a camellia necklace made just for you. It reassures me to know that this is why you’re not wearing it right now, my dear.”

He carefully tipped your chin up with his hand, brushing along your cheek with the back of his hand. You practically melted at the sensation as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. The fluttering of your heart was so loud in your chest that you were sure he must be hearing it as well. You closed your eyes as you hesitantly leaned into his touch.

He watched your reaction before playfully biting his lower lip and almost boyishly smiling to himself.

When you opened your eyes again his face had become so close to yours, you could feel his breath fan over your lips and smell his aftershave. His long eyelashes accentuated his half-lidded eyes he had now trained on your eyes once more.

“I have a favor to ask of you… Please, call me Ayato from now on.” he whispered and with that closed the remaining distance between your faces, sealing your lips with his in a silent confession.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[bookish-whore]

'Til Death

Rhysand x Reader

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: arranged marriage, mostly fluff, themes of emotional/psychological abuse

A/N: Welcome to Day Three!!! Today we have the first part of what I think will become a cute little slow burn/strangers to lovers/forced proximity fic. this is based on a request one of you lovely anons sent in and I hope you like it!

My Masterlist -> Here

Join my Taglist -> Here

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I never imagined myself getting married.

As a child I detested the idea. In fact, I remember a conversation with my parents about how I would rather renounce my titles and claims to my fortune than be forced to be a bride.

It all happened so quickly I didn’t even have time to truly process that today was the day. As I stared in the mirror at myself in this ridiculous white dress, I couldn’t help but feel as though my freedom was slipping away with each passing minute. I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye when the door opened without warning and a blonde female entered the room, she was stunning, one of the most beautiful females I had seen. She wore a form fitting red dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back in loose curls.

“Hello, its y/n right? You look absolutely beautiful” the female remarked

“Umm…yes” I said tentatively “who are you?”

“Oh! My apologies I didn’t think about how strange this would be for you. My name is Morrigan, Mor for short and I am Rhysands cousin. I know this isn’t the best circumstance for us to meet under, but I have something for you…from Rhys.”

“For me?” I asked, she extended her hand and there was a letter with my name on the front and a black seal with the night court emblem on the back. I turned it over in my hands analyzing the elegant script that I deduced belonged to my future husband.

“This is all just so…overwhelming” I admitted

“Trust me, I get it probably on a level many others don’t. I just came because Rhys thought it might help your nerves to get to know him a little before the ceremony. He managed to delay a few more hours on account of some fake emergency.”

“I’ll be just outside the door waiting for your answer.” She said quickly turning and leaving the room, closing the heavy door as softly as she could manage.

I made my way to the couch in the dressing room and sat carefully, trying not to wrinkle my dress. I broke the seal, removing the letter. I was surprised to find he had such elegant handwriting

Y/n, I’m sure an arranged marriage to a complete stranger was not what you had envisioned for your wedding day (on that we can both agree) My cousin has no doubt used her eccentric flare to get you to read this and I hope that you will join me for a drink before we do this, while not what we planned I hope that we can make the best of this situation. -Rhysand

I appreciated the effort, and I had to admit I was curious about my soon-to-be-husband. Before I could lose my nerve and overthink his gesture I stood, opening the door to find Mor exactly where she said.

“Let’s go for a drink” I said

“Seems like the rational thing to do” she replied with a smile, extending her arm for me to take and she led me through the halls of this manor to what I presumed was the roof.

As Mor opened the door I was struck with this feeling, I was nervous to meet him, I mean I knew him by his reputation but had never met the High Lord of the Night Court. If the stories were to be believed he was menacing, cruel, and evil but the man who wrote that note didn’t seem like any of those things.

“Good luck” Mor whispered as she closed the door leaving me alone with him up here

His back was turned as I approached him, but I took in his height, he was easily one of the taller males I had met. His hair was an interesting shade of black, almost like a raven’s feathers and he wore a well-fitted black suit.

I halted behind him and smoothed out my dress. I should try and make a good impression after all, and I cleared my throat to garner his attention. He turned and I was immediately struck by his eyes. They were such a unique shade of violet; it was unlike anything I had ever seen before and as his eyes met mine all thoughts exited my head as I looked into his eyes, I mean really looked, I noticed that from a distance they looked violet but up close it was like a galaxy like the night sky itself, there were flecks of silver, blue, and violet within his irises and I couldn’t help but wonder what he made of me.

“Hi” I said, giving him an awkward wave “I’m y/n, I’m sure the long white dress is a dead giveaway”

“It’s a pleasure” he said “I’m Rhysand, but my family calls me Rhys and I would like you to do so as well if you feel comfortable with that”

I nodded my answer

“So, what’s your drink of choice?” he asked

“I’ll take whatever you’re having” I said eying the glass of amber liquid he held in his hand

“A woman of refined tastes” he teased “I think we’ll get along fine”

He poured me a glass and motioned for me to sit, I didn’t enjoy being ordered around but I was intrigued by what he would say, what he would do given the situation.

“I can tell you’re nervous” he said taking a sip from his glass “Why?” he asked

“Why wouldn’t I be? I mean I am about to get married to a man who I hardly know”

“What exactly would you like to know?” he asked

“Well, for starters where will we be living?”

“In my townhouse, in Velaris” he answered simply

“What will my duties entail?”

“You aren’t my property y/n, you’ll be free to do whatever you wish. If you want to be a part of official court conversations, you will be as my equal worthy of the respect my court gives me or if you want to shop and live a life of leisure you are free do so as well. The choice is yours”

I took a sip of my drink, relishing in the slight burn as the liquid slid down my throat. Freedom. I would be free.

“And what about my wifely…duties” I asked, “what about children, your heirs?”

“I would never take someone into my bed unwillingly. Yes, you will be my wife but you aren’t some brood mare meant only for childbearing. Should you wish for a child, I’m sure we can work it out and should you never want children then so be it. We are going to be equals y/n, on that I swear.”

I felt much more at ease with that, he was offering me a life, he was offering me freedom, freedom to make myself something and to decide what I wanted for my life. It was something I hadn’t had.

For most of my life my parents had spent their time priming me to become the perfect wife. I learned to perform house duties like cooking, baking, sewing. I was taught history, and arithmetic and once I turned 16 my lessons transitioned to the ways to pleasure and please a man. Once they felt I was suitable for a match, they began making connections. I’m not entirely sure how they landed on Rhysand, or how they got him to agree to a marriage, but I assumed it had something to do with their control on spices and mining resources.

But now.

Now I had the opportunity to be more than a wife. He said I would be his equal. I felt the faint fluttering of butterflies in my stomach at the thought. I would outrank my parents; I would no longer be under their control and the thought had me practically running to the altar to say ‘I do’

“y/n?” Rhysand pressed “are you alright”

“Absolutely, I’m just thinking”

“Can I ask about what?”

“About my future”

“It’s a lot to think about” he agreed, finishing his glass

I downed the rest of the liquid in my glass “What time is it?” I asked

“Half-past seven” he said checking his watch “I should probably go back downstairs, make sure everything is in order”

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you…for all of this” I said

“Well, for starters you can follow through with your end of this deal and promise not to leave me up at the altar alone” he joked

I smiled, he really had a great sense of humor and I think we could even become friends.

“I wouldn’t dare embarrass a high lord like that” I teased back

“I’ll see you down there.” He said standing as he made his way to the door “I’ll be the one standing in the aisle”

“And I’ll be the one in the white dress” he nodded as the door closed leaving me alone on the roof.

I took some deep breaths before going back to my dressing room.

-----

I had to admit that it was beautiful. It was simple.

While being an arrangement, I still wanted my close friends and family present, it was a big day after all and I would only be doing this once. The setting was small and intimate, two rows on either side of the aisle and a simple arch where Rhys stood with the High Priestess.

When I made it down the aisle, Rhys took my hands in his, and the high priestess began the ceremony, I focused on the words being spoken in the old language. The priestess asked me to repeat after her:

“I take you, Rhysand, as my husband; to stand strong and equal by my side. by destiny we are aligned. W-We will face challenges together and find st-strength in our union. By the Sun, Moon, & Stars.”

The priestess nodded as she continued, and I repeated after her.

“May we always be as happy as we are today. May the mother give us knowledge on our way to come. May she bless us with strength and courage, and may she grant us safety, family, and prosperity.”

As if sensing my anxiety, Rhys squeezed my hand, the small gesture grounded me as Rhysand repeated the same vows. We then moved to the hand-cord portion. The priestess projected her voice to us and our guests.

“You were asked to choose ribbons in 3 colors to be woven together as a tangible symbol of the values and virtues that you hold dear in your lives and in your union. You chose red, symbolic of fire and passion, so that your love may always be bright, warm, and passionate. Green, representative of delicate leaves, symbolic of growth, so your love may be fruitful and vibrant, and your happiness abundant. And black, to represent wisdom, success, and strength.”

As she spoke, she wrapped the ribbons around out joined hands, tucking the ends into each other and placing her hands on top to offer the final blessing.

“These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness. These are the hands that will countless times wipe the tears from your eyes, tears of sorrow and tears of joy. These are the hands that will comfort you in illness and hold you when fear or grief racks your mind. These are the hands that will hold you tight as you struggle through difficult times. These are the hands that will give you support and encourage you to chase your dreams. Together, everything you wish for can be realized.”

She looked between us and our joined hands as she spoke the next part

“This cord of three braided ribbons symbolizes so much. It is your life, your love, and the eternal connection that the two of you have found with one another. The true bonds of this handfasting are not formed by these ribbons, or even by the knot connecting them. They are formed instead by your vows, by your pledge, your souls, and your two hearts, now bound together as one. May your hands be forever clasped in friendship, and your hearts joined forever in love… by the power vested in me by the cauldron and the mother, I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss.”

Before I had time to panic about kissing him his mouth was on mine. It was a quick but firm kiss purely out of necessity.

And just like that we were married.

We decided to make our rounds and say hello to all of our guests before leaving. Rhysand walked us to his group of friends, I hadn’t officially met them yet, but I’m sure that would come once he whisked me away to the night court. They clapped him on the back and gave him wide smiles, even though our situation was unusual they seemed to support him. They had such an easy familiarity. They just seemed to understand each other.

I stood there pondering my circumstances, in truth, I was excited to be on my own, even if that meant being attached to Rhysand. I would be in a new home, a new place, and away from my parents. I had never even been away on my own and now I would be saying goodbye to them for the foreseeable future. Perhaps I would find my own friends, my own family and that thought electrified me.

The last people to talk to before we departed were my parents.

It was a brief meeting of polite conversation, I didn’t dare show my excitement to be free of them. I spoke only when absolutely necessary but with each passing minute I became more anxious to leave. As if sensing my rising nerves, Rhys pulled me to his side and spoke excusing us.

“It was a pleasure to meet you both” Rhysand said shaking my father’s hand and giving my mother a nod “but it’s getting late and we should be going we have quite a ways to travel tonight”

They both nodded in understanding and my mother, always one for the optics, pulled me into a final embrace and held me tight, taking the opportunity to whisper in my ear “Remember your lessons, don’t disappoint us”

I pulled away taking one last look at them before Rhysand grabbed me around the waist, winnowing us away.

-----

We arrived at the townhouse.

It was much cozier than I had imagined. Rhys gave me a tour starting in the foyer which was decorated with a red carpet, with wood-paneled walls and art on each wall. There were two rooms: on the left a sitting room with a black marble fireplace, lots of comfortable, but worn furniture, and bookshelves built into every wall. On the right was a dining room with a long, cherrywood table big enough for ten people. Down the hallway ahead there are a few more doors, which led to the kitchen.

Rhys led me up the wide oak staircase to a hall punctuated with chandeliers of swirled, colored glass that illuminated the bedroom doors and led me down the hall stopping outside a green door.

“This will be your room” he said as he opened the door motioning me to enter.

It was quite beautiful. It was dark out but I could tell that the room faced the back of the townhouse, the large windows peered over the stone fountain in the center of the garden. I took in the décor, everything in the room was a dark, rich, wood and soft white, with touches of subtle sage. The bed was in the center of the far wall and was a massive cloud like thing, adorned in quilts and duvets of cream and ivory with accent pillows in various shades of green.

There was also an attached bathing room made of white marble, with a toilet, a claw-foot tub, and more windows that overlooked the garden wall and a thick line of cypress trees that bordered the property.

“This is incredible” I said as we made our way back to the entrance of my bedroom.

“I want this to feel like your home, this is your space so feel free to make whatever changes you like.” He said

“Rhys- I really don’t know what to say…thank you”

“No thanks necessary. I think we can help each other here.” Before I could ask him to elaborate, he continued “You should get some rest, it’s been a taxing day for the both of us.”

With that he stepped out of the room “Goodnight y/n” he said as he closed the door behind him.

As I looked around the room. my room I suppose. I couldn’t help but think that this morning I thought my circumstances would be much different.

But now?

I think I’m going to like it here.

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Tune back in tomorrow for Day Four ❤️

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[dalchiid]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 37

A story of obsession, fear, and lust. You're a maid whose Masters forbid you in meeting their guests for the night but your luck runs dry when you run into them and catch the attention of Lord Hoseok himself. He's smitten from the beginning and thus, your fate has been decided.

Pairing: Yandere Vampire Hoseok x Fem/AFAB Reader

Word Count: 7,076

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Possessive, Angst, Fear, Blood, Biting, Dub-Con, Eventual smut

Will add or remove warnings based on what's in each chapter.

I do not condone the behavior being exhibited in my work. This is solely for entertainment purposes and I hope if any of you are ever in a situation like this that you have the chance and ability to run away from it. Take care out there.

DO NOT copy, edit, or repost my work anywhere.

Chapter 37 Warnings: Yandere, Possessive, Obsession

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When Hoseok reads the letter your heart is in your stomach. He clearly looks annoyed but you hold onto hope that Namjoon is right and that Hoseok will accept what you've given him. You think he reads it a second or even third time because of how long he's taking. It makes you bite your bottom lip in worry. When finally he sighs and brings the letter down onto the desk in his study he brought you into your ears and brows perk up waiting for an answer.

"Well," you ask. "How is it?"

Hoseok sighs again. He still looks annoyed. Bringing a hand up to his eyes where he rubs them harshly with his fingers.

"Fine," he grumbles.

You hum questioningly. "Fine?"

"Yes fine, Y/N."

Your lips purse because he sounds the least bit fine about it.

"If it's fine then why do you sound mad?"

"Because I am mad."

You visibly deflate before him.

You don't need to ask him why he's mad because you know but it doesn't stop him from complaining.

"I told you Hyun-Woo is fine. I don't know why you need to do this."

You frown his way and he can sense it because he mumbles a "Don't look at me like that" under his breath.

"Hyun-Woo isn't fine. It doesn't matter how many times you say it and I want to do this so that he can get better."

Hoseok twists his neck in agitation but when he looks at you his expression softens.

"The things I do for you."

You lick your lips. "So it's okay? Will you send the letter?"

He sighs with a subtle roll to his eyes. "Yeah I'll send it but that's it. Don't get ahead of yourself and think that I'll allow you to see him in the long run."

You figured that much by yourself so you nod with a small "Okay."

The two of you are alone together after Hoseok went and fetched you from his brother. You recall Namjoon giving you a reassuring smile when you hesitated to leave. It's what kept you going so far and now that Hoseok approved of the letter you feel like some weight was lifted off of your shoulders.

"So when can we send it," you ask.

"It'll be sent."

Your face drops as that weight that had been lifted comes to rest upon you again.

"Hoseok."

"It'll be sent. Don't worry."

That's the thing. You can't help but worry. He says the letter will be sent but how can you be so sure about that? He can easily lie to you and say it's been sent when in actuality it wasn't.

He seems to sense your worry because in a big show of exasperation he opens his drawer and fishes out an envelope and a stamp. He folds and slips the letter into the envelope and grabs his pen where he begins to scribble the information needed on the front. You watch him as he stamps the top right once he's done writing and brings the envelope up to shake it into your face.

"See? Done." He slaps it back down onto the table. "I'll have it sent out tomorrow. Happy?"

You nibble your bottom lip.

"Stop that." His words are soft as he pries the petal that makes up your lip from between your teeth. "I promise I'll have it sent tomorrow. Now, no more worrying."

You don't know if you can fully trust him, as per usual, but you'll give him the benefit of the doubt.

Hoseok leans himself against the desk before grabbing you to draw you into his arms.

"How was your time with Namjoon? Did you do anymore reading?"

No you didn't. You spent the time in his arms talking about your life. He wanted to know more about your past and you told him as much as you could. You told him that most of your life was spent catering to the Baeks. You had no real childhood and how you have no family. He looked concerned but you laughed it off and told him that you were fine.

Much like Hoseok he asked if you wanted to learn about your family. That if you wanted he could have a detective sent to find out about your parents but you told him no. You were okay with not knowing who your family is because you had a found family with the head of servants. Ji-Woon was all you needed even though he didn't treat you much like a daughter. He was your boss but he cared for you and you cared for him.

Namjoon asked if you missed him and you admitted that you did. You wonder what he's up to but you imagine he must be doing just fine.

The rest of the time was with you finding out about Namjoon's childhood. He's always been close with his brothers. His mother tried making his upbringing as normal as possible despite his father. The other mothers were just as kind to him, he said. All the mothers were nice to the other children but they, of course, held their own in high regards. Unlike Jimin and Jungkook's moms though Namjoon's could be strict. She wanted the best for him but she never spoiled him. She wanted him to learn how to correct his mistakes and to learn from them. He admits he's been far from being a perfect child but he tries his best. It made you smile.

Your silence goes on for a little longer than it should and Hoseok pulls back a little to look at you.

"Y/N?"

You hum questioningly.

"I asked how your time with Namjoon went."

"Oh! Oh it was fine. We just talked for a bit. Not much else."

"About?"

You shrug. "About our lives. He learned about my childhood and I learned about his."

He squeezes you tight with a hum.

"You know I can always get that search for your parents going."

You shake your head. "I'm just fine without them."

Your response makes him hum again.

For others they might want to know more about their parents but not you. It's not something you want to break your head over. They may or may not have had reasons leaving you behind but to you it doesn't matter. You wish Hoseok and Namjoon would see that.

Hoseok breaks the hug apart so he can look down at the letter. He purses his lips before picking it up to look at the front and back. He has a frown on his face but he switches it for a pout.

Looking back up at you he places the envelope back down before tapping it twice.

"I'll have the letter sent out. For now though let's focus on something else."

"Okay." It's all you can say before Hoseok leads you out of the study.

By the time Hoseok had fetched you it had gotten dark out. The vampires are free to roam everywhere around them without sitting under the sun.The curtains are open to show the way both the front and back of the house is lit by lights. Around this time you would be getting ready to call it a night but ever since you came here it's been different. Now you're accustomed to being up the whole night. Until the early morning sun changes the hues of the sky - it's when you would find yourself falling asleep. It's no different now but you're surprised to see when Hoseok yawns.

"Tired," you ask.

He nods his head. "There was a lot that needed to be done today. My brain feels like it's on fire." He gives a pained expression. "Think I'm getting a headache."

"Don't you have anything for that?"

"I do but I think I'll be fine." He turns to you with a smile. "So what do you want to do?"

You look off to the side as he brings you two to a stop in the hallway. You're near the playroom and you think about searching for something in there but then you recall what happened to you the last time you were in there. It sends a shiver up your spine and you decide that's the last place you want to be right now.

"I don't know honestly."

Hoseok hums before grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips. "We're free to do whatever you want."

You purse your lips as you think.

Normally by now, with Hoseok, you would spend time in his room or the garden. You feel like doing something different with him though. Not for his sake but your own. You're always locked up in the house but you doubt he'd want to go outside at this time. To do what? You're not entirely sure. You just know you want to do something outside of the norm.

"You're thinking really hard."

You grunt. "Trying to think about what to do."

"You know we don't have to do anything. We can just relax."

Looking up at him you can see he's looking a little tired and it's dawning upon you that he might not want to do anything. You guess it wouldn't hurt to rest.

"We can just rest for now."

His brows draw together in concern. "You don't want to do anything?"

"You look tired."

"Still. If there's something you want to do we can go do it."

He's so persistent it almost makes your eyes roll.

"Hoseok, you're tired and you have a headache. Let's just rest. There's always tomorrow."

Like a weight being lifted off his shoulders, his body sags.

"Are you sure?"

You give him a deadpan look to which he smiles.

"Then let's head to our room then. I want to change out of these clothes."

Hoseok looks grateful to you and you don't know how that makes you feel. You only decided on a night in because if it were you feeling the way he does you wouldn't want to do anything. You may not like him but you're not an asshole. You'll let him rest.

The rest of the way through the house is quiet but he keeps his body close to yours. Your arms rub up against each other and you feel the way his fingers brush up against your own. It tickles a little and you itch to pull it away so you can avoid his tender touch but you don't. It's odd why you don't but you try to keep your irritation down to a simmer. You remind yourself that you promised him you wouldn't be as aggressive with him anymore and you, admittedly, kind of regret that. But you know that if you want to make your time here go as smooth sailing as possible you need to keep the promise. Do what you have to do so that when the time comes you can leave without him suspecting a thing.

If you're always pushing against him he'll limit your chances of freedom. So you know you have to play along and play along well.

When you reach his room he lets you in before following after you. You hear the way his feet drag on the floor and when you look at him there's a grimace on his face. It brings you to a pause as he walks around you to head to the closet.

He doesn't seem like his usual self and you don't know how it makes you feel.

"I'll grab our pajamas. Think you can get the headache pills I have under the bathroom sink?"

Oh right. You forgot he has a headache. His voice is low as he speaks and the grimace is maintained as he shuffles around. He squint his eyes when he turns the lights on and you figure this might be more than just a headache.

You walk into the closet after him and tap his shoulder. He whips his head around to face you but you can tell he instantly regrets it because he winces and places a hand to the side of his head.

"Are you sure it's just a headache," you ask.

He nods his head. "Pretty sure."

"Do you feel nauseous?"

Licking his lips he goes back to grabbing your pajamas. "A little but it's nothing bad."

"Hoseok," you start. "I think you're having a migraine."

He sighs. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm sure I'll be fine."

You shake your head even though his back is turned towards you. "Pills for headaches won't be enough for that. You'll need something stronger."

Hoseok turns and hands you your clothes before he begins to slip his clothes off in front of you.

"I don't have anything stronger." His words are muffled by his shirt but you hear him all the same.

"Then wait here."

"Where are you going?"

You don't answer him as you slip out of the room in search for a maid. No one is around this side of the hall so you have to walk pretty far. You're back near the stairs and from up top you see two maids talking to each other at the bottom.

"Excuse me," you say but they're too absorbed in what they're talking about so you speak a little louder. "Excuse me!"

The two maids look up at you and bow. It makes you cringe because you're not used to being the one being waited upon.

"What can we do for you, Lady Y/N?"

You bite your bottom lip for a second of nervousness. You don't know why you feel so nervous. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you don't know what the help thinks of you. Do they like you or not? Do they just tolerate you because you're with Hoseok? Their eyes and ears are everywhere. Do they see you with Namjoon? What do they think of that? Did the news spread around about what happened to you after the incident with Jimin? Back at home every single one of the help would have been known. You figure it must not be that much different here. People love to talk.

"My Lady?"

You snap out of it and stutter. "O-Oh um, I just wanted to send for someone to bring up some water and any medication for migraines. Hoseok needs it."

The two women bow at you before straightening up. "We'll have it sent up. Don't worry."

You nod at them before heading back to Hoseok's room where you find him sitting on the bed with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Where did you go," he mumbles.

You give him a onceover before changing your clothes.

"I went and had some maids find you something for your migraine. They'll have it brought up in a bit."

He hums.

After you change you head towards him. Staring at him you realize how vulnerable he looks. You've never seen him like this. It's a bit unnerving. You've taken care of Hyun-Woo once or twice before when he would get like this. You know what to do but to do it with Hoseok? To take care of your captor? Life really likes making you the brunt end of a joke.

You sigh and jut your hip out as you stare at him. Despite not really wanting to the innate need to care for someone who is sick or injured kicks in. So you straighten up and rest your hands on Hoseok's shoulders.

"Come on. Let's lie you down."

Without question he lets you maneuver him around until he's slipped under the covers. You go to turn the lamp on your side on before turning off the ceiling light. The less light there is the better.

Hoseok groans as he tries to rest his head comfortably on his pillow. You can't tell if it's out of pain, pleasure or an odd mix of the two.

You slip under the sheets to join him but stay perched on your elbow so that you're hovering near him. Your body blocks the bedside lamp and the frown that marred his face begins to soften.

It's nothing but silence as you look at him.

He looks so innocent like this. Eyes closed with the occasional scrunch of his nose or brows. He looks like he could never hurt anybody. Instead he's the one in pain and you're looking down at him devoid of all emotion. You have the brief thought of smothering him with a pillow but you actually find yourself hating that idea. Even though he deserves it. You're not going to start thinking why that idea bothers you because you're too afraid of what the answer will be. You don't think it's because you care for him per say. Still you don't want to think about it.

There's a soft knock on the door and you welcome them in. One of the maids from before comes in with a bottle of water and pills that rattle in her other hand.

"Here are the things you asked for, my Lady." She hands them to you with a smile. "Is there anything else that you need?"

You shake your head. "No that will be all. Thank you."

She bows to you before slipping out of the room leaving you and Hoseok alone again.

You turn back to the man who has altered your life completely before reading the back of the bottle. You see that it says to take two pills so you shake them out of the bottle and open the bottle of water.

"Hoseok," you say.

He doesn't answer at first and you think he might have fallen asleep.

"Hoseok." Your voice is more firm and this time he answers you.

"What?"

"Here. Take these. It should help with the migraine."

He doesn't open his eyes at first but when he does he frowns. He sits up a little and for some reason or another you bring the pills up to his lips. Hoseok looks up at you with wide eyes that seem to shine in the dim light. Your eyes widen as well and you're about to pull your hand back but Hoseok's lips part to let you slip the pills in.

With a bit of hesitation you drop the pills in his awaiting mouth and hand over the water. He takes it and drinks everything down until all that's left are his wet lips and a half empty bottle.

"Good," you ask.

He nods his head before handing the bottle back to you to close and place on your nightstand. When you turn back around you see that he lies on his side facing you. His eyes ache to keep open but when your body blocks the bedside lamp from him again he closes them without a wince.

Hoseok sighs. "Sorry."

Your brow raises in question. "For?"

"For getting like this. I wanted to spend some time with you but then this happened."

Your face goes blank before him but his eyes aren't open to see. As much as you would have liked to leave the house you know he had no control over this situation. It's not his fault...

You never thought you would say a sentence like that. It's not his fault. There are a lot of things he has fault in but not this. You can be petty but not so petty to hold his health against him so you just sigh.

"It's not your fault. Things like this just happen."

Without thinking your hand comes up to push his hair out of the way. It freezes for a moment near his forehead and you question yourself why you're doing this. You just figure that maybe it's because when you get like this there are certain things you'd like to be done for you. To be doted upon. It still doesn't explain why you're doing it to Hoseok of all people, but you try not to think about it. You just do as is without question.

Your fingers slip into his hair where you spread the soft strands apart. He doesn't have any wax in it to keep it swooped off his forehead like he normally would so it doesn't feel tacky. Hoseok sighs at your touch but you ignore it as you continue to brush his hair back and scrape your nails across his scalp the way he would do to you.

You're doing this because it's what you would have done to Hyun-Woo, you think to yourself. It's what he would have liked and you're just a caring person. That's all.

Hoseok sighs in comfort at your gentle touch. You wonder what he must be thinking but you think you'd rather not know. Some things are better left off in the dark but it seems like you won't be given that peace.

"I love you. You know that?"

Your hand pauses in its movements as Hoseok's eyes open to look up at you. There's adoration in them and it's all directed to the object of all his desires. You. It bears so much weight that you have to look away to try and ease your discomfort but even then it's still too much.

"Hey."

Hesitantly you turn to look back at him to see him give a pained smile.

"Thank you. For everything." His eyes close then before he moves his head against your fingers to encourage you to continue where you left off.

Your lips pout in thought.

You don't know how to accept his feelings. It feels like too much. After the reality of it all how can he say these things to you? It's unthinkable yet it comes so easily to him. In all honesty it worries you because when the time comes for you to leave, you can scarcely imagine the man he'll become when you're gone. It doesn't just worry you. It scares you. And with you running your fingers through his hair in comfort - you're not helping the situation. You're just making things worse and making him fall even more deeper in love with you, but right now you'll just let things be as they be. You'll worry about everything when the time comes. For now you just wait until his breathing evens out, until you call his name and he doesn't respond because he's fast asleep. You wait until then to turn so you can turn off your light and lie down completely in bed where you grab your phone and hold it close before unlocking it.

Hoseok is completely knocked out so you don't even think twice when it comes to opening up your text messages and sending one out to Namjoon and the other to Yoongi.

To Namjoon:

You: Hoseok is asleep.

To Yoongi:

You: What makes you love Hoseok? Besides the fact that he's your brother.

You wait a little bit until your phone vibrates and you see that you get a response from both men almost immediately.

Namjoon: Everything okay?

Yoongi: That's a loaded question.

You purse your lips to avoid biting your bottom lip raw. You're feeling a little bit of everything. A little bit of anxiety and a little bit of sadness. It's leaving you feeling just a tad bit confused.

To Namjoon:

You: Yeah it's just... I don't know. I guess it's just that I miss you.

To Yoongi:

You: Sorry. You don't have to answer if you don't want to.

Yoongi's answer doesn't come as quick but Namjoon's does.

Namjoon: I miss you too, princess.

You smile.

Namjoon: What did Hoseok say about the letter?

You: He approved of it. He said he'll have it sent out tomorrow.

Namjoon: I'm relieved to know. I'll make sure he sends it out otherwise he'll seemingly forget if you know what I mean.

You do know and you're thankful Namjoon will see this letter issue through. When you're about to send your thanks the phone vibrates with a message from Yoongi.

Yoongi: I have an idea as to why you asked and I don't mind answering...

Yoongi: Despite his shortcomings Hoseok has a lot of love to give. Even if he's hurting he'll always love. He's a breath of fresh air and he's what I call my battery.

Yoongi: He energizes me. Keeps me going with his positivity. He honestly inspires me a lot.

Yoongi: Like I said I have an idea as to why you asked me this. I can't tell you what to do or how to feel but if you were to ever give him a chance you'll see what I mean. Again I can't tell you how to feel. You've been through something I can't imagine to be fun. He's taken a lot from you I'm sure but yeah...

Angling the phone's screen towards Hoseok, you use the light to see his face. He's completely knocked out and you see how utterly peaceful he looks.

You think of Yoongi's words and how it can apply to you. You don't think you could ever give Hoseok a chance. Not in a million years. There are too many things that he's done wrong. Once upon a time things were okay but they're not now. He ruined that not you and now you're left with broken trust. It's sad when you think about it but it's the reality that you're living.

It's hard to think of a response back so you leave him on read. Namjoon too. You take the chance instead to delete all the texts just in case Hoseok goes to read them. Your privacy is not safe with him around.

You flip onto your other side and wonder what you should do now. You're not tired at all and there's nothing to do. Are you expected to stay locked up in here because Hoseok is asleep? You think on that until a thought springs up in your mind.

You could leave, right? Maybe leave and do something then come back before Hoseok can wake up. It's risky but you're bored.

Turning your head his way you shine the light from your phone's screen on him.

He's definitely knocked out. You think about shaking him a little - calling his name to make sure but you don't want to accidentally wake him.

If you're going to leave you figure that now would be the time to do it. It takes an immense amount of courage to get you to stand up and even more to get you to the door. Your hands are shaking and you don't know why. It's not like you're making your escape now... Should you do that? Everyone is awake now. It'll be too risky so you think not but how far can you push before someone notices?

Licking your lips you turn the doorknob and slip out into the hall where you close the door softly behind you. The next move is to walk away and it takes you a couple of seconds before you find the will to do so. Your heart is beating a mile a minute but you remind yourself this isn't you trying to escape. It's just you're looking for something to do to keep you entertained. That's it. Where will you go? You're not sure but you know it's far from Hoseok.

You're power walking through the hall and your eyes are everywhere. Your grip on your phone is tight as you nibble your bottom lip. Any maid that you come across ignores you but you know you're not safe. Any one of them can easily sell you out to their Lords and it makes your heart hammer faster and harder. You can feel your heart beat in your throat and it makes it hard to swallow. When you reach the stairs you hesitate.

You look down them towards the entrance door. You're so close. Could you possibly try and slip out just to see the area around you? It's just a test to see how security is at this time.

You nod to yourself. Yes, that's it. It's just to see.

"You seem nervous."

You jump at the sound of a voice behind you. When you turn to see who it is you freeze when you notice it's Taehyung. He is expressionless but you can only imagine what he must be thinking.

"Where's Hoseok?"

Licking your lips you make a lame attempt at stretching your hand out towards the direction that you came from.

"He's asleep."

Taehyung's brow raises in interest. "So I'm assuming he doesn't know that you're making a little escape right now."

The anxiety within you turns into flames and you react in irritation.

"I wasn't trying to escape. I'm just bored."

"You're bored?"

"Yes." You can barely believe yourself but you'll go with it.

He doesn't seem to believe you but after a second his other brow raises and he gives a small pout.

"Whatever you say."

You release the tension in your body before rolling your eyes.

You weren't exactly planning on leaving but Taehyung doesn't need to know the specifics. Instead you cross your arms and shift your weight onto one leg. He eyes your new stance but you know he's listening in to your heart that's rattling in its cage. He can easily call you out on it but instead he angles his head before looking off down the stairs.

"Come with me."

Your brows furrow as you frown. "What?"

Taehyung starts his descent down the stairs without you but he pauses for a moment to look up at you.

"I said come with me. You're bored and so am I." He turns his back towards you and continues down.

You're left feeling just a tad bit confused but you follow after him anyway. You could have said no to him but you feel like he wasn't really giving you an option here. He caught you acting suspicious. It's your fault and now you have to deal with the consequences.

You huff out a sigh that you know he heard but he says nothing about it.

He doesn't stop moving when you both reach the bottom of the stairs. He keeps going until you both enter the kitchen and he goes in search of something.

You're standing by the door as he digs through the pantry in the far off corner. The kitchen is empty but spotless. You can smell a faint scent of a type of cleanser used to clean everything up and whatever mess there once was after dinner is no more.

"Y/N."

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Taehyung peeks his head out to wave you over. You're hesitant at first but walk towards the pantry where you see he already has two bags of chips in his hands.

"Here."

He pushes them into your chest where you hold them close before he gathers some other snacks. It confuses you on why he keeps grabbing things and you question him on why so many snacks.

"Jungkook is waiting in the playroom. They're mostly for him."

Your heart skips a beat and the anxiety from before comes back. It catches his attention because he turns around and towers over you with a raised brow.

"Your heart beat is accelerating. Why?"

Looking off in discomfort you squeeze the bag of chips closer to you. "Jungkook doesn't like me."

Taehyung huffs a deep laugh that catches you off guard.

"Jungkook doesn't like a lot of people. Who cares?"

Your cheeks grow warm in mild embarrassment. "It's just... Wouldn't he get mad if he finds out you brought me along?"

The vampire before you rolls his eyes. "He may not like people but he's not an asshole so he'll get over it."

Licking your lips you look down at your full arms.

Is Taehyung right? Jungkook is hard to read but you know, despite what others like Namjoon says, he absolutely despises you. Otherwise he wouldn't talk about or to you like you're scum.

"If you're done feeling sorry for yourself you can help me grab some drinks."

His comment just makes your cheeks grow warmer. You can't help but frown in his direction but you'll keep quiet. The last thing you want to deal with is one of Hoseok's brothers with an attitude. Especially when that brother is Taehyung. He definitely scares you the most.

After grabbing everything the two of you head towards the playroom. He doesn't say anything else to you but you know he can hear the way your heart beats. It's not regulating. Just constant thump, thump, thumps that don't seem to want to calm down. It makes you swallow deeply and hold the drinks and snacks tighter to you. It's frustrating to feel this way and you're about to back out on this hangout but something happens. Something changes and you're suddenly feeling calm. You don't think you've ever felt this calm before. Like all your problems are gone and you have nothing to worry about. You would go along with it but it makes you feel just a tad bit suspicious. What's going on?

"Better," Taehyung asks.

You look up at him with a tilt to your head.

He can tell you're a lot calmer now. When he looks at you he gives you a knowing look and you can't help but ask "How?"

He shrugs. "Don't worry about it. Just try to keep calm, yeah?"

It strikes you then that just maybe Taehyung has something to do with this. Can he control your emotions? That... that's amazing, you think. You want to ask him more about it but he seems done and walks past you into the playroom.

When you step in you see Jungkook sitting on the couch staring at his phone. He doesn't look up at you but you know he knows you're here.

Taehyung drops everything he has on the desk in the corner where all the PCs are at then turns to you with open arms. You walk over to him to give him everything and it's at that point does Jungkook stand up to join you.

"What are we playing today?"

Jungkook shrugs. "I don't care."

"PUBG?"

"I don't care."

Taehyung huffs. "PUBG it is." He turns to you. "Do you know how to play?"

You shake your head. "No. I'm okay with watching though."

"That's no fun." He pouts and it's the first time you can say he looks cute.

He doesn't look scary for once. It's a welcome change.

"Trust me it's fine. I don't know how to play games."

"You were playing something back at the Baek's."

Your attention snaps over to Jungkook who spoke up. Your eyes widen a bit. You didn't expect him to remember that. That was back when you were having the withdrawals and he was mostly there to play something himself.

"Oh," you start. "But that doesn't mean I'm any good."

There's a subtle roll to his eyes. "Whatever you say." He heads over to a PC and sits down to start things up. "Ready whenever you are, Tae."

Taehyung looks between his brother and you with a raised brow. He looks like he wants to know more but there's nothing else to say about the situation.

"You can watch me play," he says.

He sits down and motions for you to sit next to him. You do and watch as he turns everything on and signs into his account.

"Do you at least know what the game is about?"

You nod your head.

"Do you?" He looks interested to know.

"Yeah. I watch people play video games so I know." You shrug.

"Why just watch when you can play too?"

"I didn't have time to play. I've only ever worked."

"That sounds sad."

"It sounds pathetic." Jungkook chimes in and it makes Taehyung laugh.

Unlike Taehyung neither you nor Jungkook laughs. For obviously different reasons. Him because he could care less and you because you didn't find it funny, but you try and ignore him.

The two brothers load up the game and put on their headphones. Taehyung adjusts the volume so he can continue talking to you much to your surprise. He's going over the basics of the game and what you should or shouldn't do.

"Don't hesitate. Hesitation is the killer of games like this."

"I figure," you say.

"Have you seen anybody play battle royale games?"

You nod but then you realize he couldn't see since his eyes are on the screen. "I have. Mostly Eternal Return: Black Survival. Have you heard of that game?"

"I have actually." He smiles. "Seokjin loves that game. He's been trying to get us to play that with him."

The light hearted conversation with Taehyung makes you smile. You never thought that both you and Taehyung would talk so easily like this. You thought he hated you as much as Jungkook. The idea of it all actually makes you hesitate because you remember Jimin. He annoyed the hell out of you and you thought things were going okay between you for once until he pulled the rug right out from under your feet.

Your switch in attitude goes unnoticed but you try to ignore it for your sake more than anything.

The match in the game starts and you watch as Taehyung makes his way through and grabs everything he can to try and survive. Jungkook appears on the screen a few minutes after and the two of them talk as they play. You keep an eye out for any opponents but before you can even spot them the brothers do and take them down. It amazes you how fast their reflexes are.

"I think there's someone behind the hill there." Taehyung says.

"I see him."

Jungkook takes him out quickly and takes the bike the opponent had. The brothers work well together and you're so into what's happening that you don't notice your phone going off. It's vibrating on the table and it takes Taehyung giving you a quick look to notice anything.

"What," you ask.

"Your phone is vibrating."

You hum questioningly and grab the device. When you do you see the call has ended and that you have two missed calls from Hoseok. It starts to ring again and you're quick to pick it up.

Before you can even says hello his panicked voice speaks up.

"Where are you?"

"Oh um, I'm downstairs with your brothers."

"What?"

You can hear the sound of rustling sheets as he goes to sit up.

"Which ones?"

You don't know why it matters unless he's worried one of them is Jimin.

"Taehyung and Jungkook."

"Oh." There's a pause. "I'm coming to get you."

You suck your teeth and pout. The sound catches Taehyung's attention. He looks between you and the phone and motions with his chin. You look at him to ask him what was up when he speaks.

"Let me talk to him."

At that moment his character is gunned down and Jungkook whines.

"Taehyung."

"Give me a minute, yeah?" He takes his headphones off and takes your phone from you. "Hoseok. Yeah. Y/N is with me... I invited her. It's okay."

He continues to talk to his older brother as you watch the screen. Jungkook is trying to revive him but he's swiftly gunned down as well and they only make it to 15th place. It makes Jungkook tsk but he doesn't say a word. Instead he grabs a bag of chips and pops it open to eat.

"You're more than welcome to if you want. Okay then. Suit yourself." Taehyung hangs up your phone and hands it back to you.

You look down at the device before looking back up at him.

"What did he say?"

"He'll be joining us shortly."

"Oh." You can't help the way you sound. Like you're disappointed and you are.

To this Taehyung huffs a laugh. "He didn't say you have to leave so you're welcome to stay and maybe play a game with us now that you know what to expect."

Your eyes widen a fraction as your heart skips a beat. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Taehyung looks at you confused for a moment before he shrugs. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. Why? Should I not?"

Your eyes trail over his face as you think.

He doesn't have to do this you realize. He can still be the cold Taehyung he was before but for some reason he's changed his mind about you. You don't know how that makes you feel to be honest. You definitely prefer this version of him that's for sure and if he's giving you a chance that means you have one less person in this household that dislikes you. That's not to say that you actually believe he likes you but that you've become tolerable to him.

"Y/N?"

You snap to attention at the call of your name. Taehyung is waiting for an answer.

"Can I trust you?"

No, you don't think he should because you have every right to get the hell out of here and break his brother's heart. He doesn't need to know that though. Not for now at least.

You nod your head. "Yeah. Yeah you can."

He smiles at you. It barely reaches his eyes but he smiles nonetheless.

He grabs a bag of chips and hands it to you to which you grab it with a barely there smile of your own. Like a peace offering you guess and you accept it.

Taehyung starts talking to Jungkook and promises him he'll play better. The youngest only shrugs but you know he's holding his brother to that promise.

You oftentimes forget these men are actually related to each other. The way they treat you is a stark difference to how they treat each other. There's love and acceptance. Happiness and little spats that get resolved within the minute they happen. It's a little bizarre to you. One, because you don't have a family and never experienced this and two, Hyun-Woo and his brothers never treated each other like this. They are triplets. You would think they got along with each other better but they don't.

It's a bit odd seeing them treat each other with love but it's not bad. Would you ever miss this? Could you ever? You don't know to be honest.

You don't know.

[allkordelia]

Keep Me in Your Thoughts (7)

A man ran through the halls of the quiet castle with a letter tightly gripped in his hand as he dodged servants as they did their day-to-day chores. The man was nearly out of breath when he made it to the council chamber. The young man caught his breath as he knocked on the door twice. After a moment, the double doors were opened, causing the chatting in the room to stop. 

"Your highness..." The young man bowed as the council stared at him blankly waiting for him, "A raven came for you from Driftmark." He was beckoned forward by the royal, making the young man walk over, he handed the scroll over before backing up. The council stared at the monarch, who scanned the letter with worried and angry eyes. All of the men at the table watched their ruler let out a grumble as they crumbled the paper in their hands before tossing it onto the table. 

"Bad news, your highness." The hand asked, reaching for the paper and unballing it, and reading the note that the queen's mother sent her. 

Rhaelle glanced over at Lord Stefon as she chewed her bottom lip out of anxiousness, she shook her head slightly, looking away. 

"It seems my daughter has arranged herself to be married to a lord Baratheon at storm's end." She shook her head at this foolery, the only reason she came here was to marry so her daughter wouldn't have to, now she founds out that she left the solitude of her home to betroth herself off to the worst possible suitor. 

"Is it such a terrible idea, m'lady? If your daughter marries a lord Baratheon, these two unions would mean we would have him as an ally, no?" Maester Briden says, looking at her. She dug her nail into the wooden table scratching lines. 

"Yes, but the fact of the matter is that he is a greedy and untruthful man and the last thing I want is a man like that anywhere near my court." And my daughter, she thought. The men around the table mumble in agreement, the last thing they need is another problem on their hands when they still haven't dealt with the recent one. 

"I agree with the queen. There are more suitable men out there for princess valaena to marry and produce heirs." Said Lord Stefon, looking over to Rhaelle, "Will you be traveling dragon back to Storm's End to receive the princess, m'lady." Rhaelle nodded as she stood up making the men follow, she glanced over at the master of coin before ending the meeting. The lords moved to talk to one another as she motioned for the lord to follow her to the side. He walked over to her as she looked outside the large window at her thriving kingdom. 

"M'lady." Rhaelle turned her head a bit to look at Lord Maerrio Rogare of House Rogare. He stood a few inches tall over her as she looked up at him. She watched as he moved his dark curly hair from his face while gazing down at her with his dark brown eyes. 

"I need a favor to ask." He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his shoulder against the wall. 

"Ask and you shall receive, my queen." He said with a grin on his face making Rhaelle smile. It wasn't long before rhaelle took a liking to Marrio. He is a sweet and outspoken man with a daughter. He was also one of the many men in the kingdom willing to bend his knee to her. The moment she got there, she didn't trust him or anyone for that matter and neither did he when they met, but over time he grew to know her and took a liking to her and vice versa. 

Marrio noticed her lack of confidence after he agreed to her request, "What is the matter, my lady? Do you not think this will work? " He asked, making her look up at him. 

"No, I'm worried about my daughter. I and she haven't had the best relationship you see," She sighed, moving her hair out of her face and behind her ear, "I fear it will be hard to convince her what she is doing isn't a good idea." Marrio looked at the young queen with a sincere look before putting his hand on her shoulder. 

"I believe once you explain to her your absence, she will forgive you. All any child wants is the truth." Rhaelle gave a small smile at his words. 

"I hope you are right." As Marrio pulled his hand away, the door to the chambers opened as Meleah walked in and towards you. 

"Meleah." Rhaelle greeted her. Meleah bowed her head to the woman in front of her. 

"My Lady, I have come with news of the traitorous fugitive." All the men in the room turned their attention to the red priestess. 

"You found him?" Lord Stefon asked, coming close along with the others. 

"Yes, my sweet flowers in king's landing have told me, he has been squatting there for quite some time now." Rhaelle quirked her brow in surprise and asked Meleah if her flowers had told her what for. 

"It seems the traitor has gone there for asylum, my queen. He tends to tell the king of your new position and how you plan to usurp him." Rhaelle rolled her eyes.  

"Do you have any idea when he tends to do this act of treason?" The hand asked. 

"Morrow, my lord. The king will allow his presents in the afternoon." Rhaelle sighed, rubbing her face with her hand, she sniffed, moving her dreads over her shoulder before looking over at her master of ships. 

"Lord Dorwin." The Lord stepped forward with a look on his face as he stood at attention, "Get your ship ready and your men, we will sail to king's landing at once." The lord bowed his head before leaving to get his ship ready to port, rhaelle look at her master of coin again. 

"Lord Marrio, I will need you to get the earnings that we made from our trade with Braavos and Myr," He gave a curt nod, " I wish for you to accompany Lord Dorwin and Stefon to the king's landing as well. I want you to make sure everything is tranquil. " She told him quietly, making Marrio respond with a curt nod before leaving, Meleah followed Rahaelle out of the chamber and down the hall. 

"I would have thought we had more time to prepare, but it seems R'hllor has other plans for you, my queen," Meleah says as she walks beside rhaelle, the young queen sighing, thinking the same thing. 

"It seems so," she said bitterly, even though she had been preparing for something like this to happen, it couldn't have happened on a day that wasn't already stressful. 

"Rhaelle." Meleah stopped the young woman from walking any further as she took hold of the cuff of the queen's tunic, "Do not let this stagger you, I can feel your doubts and you must not let those thoughts win." Meleah was looking into her queen's eyes with fervent and truth, she knows that it had been a hard couple of months for rhaelle. Having to leave her children behind and go to a foreign place and take up the title of queen can be overwhelming, but Meleah knows that rhaelle can get through it and knows she can overcome this obstacle. 

"Do not lose faith, my friend. It's like you always say tough days never last." Rhaelle gave Meleah an eye roll as much as she love the young priestess. She sometimes wished she wouldn't quote her knowing she would use it against her. 

"You know how much I hate it when you quote me," she says. It is funny, she thinks, since she first came here. All they did was argue nonstop, rhaelle thought Meleah was mental to think that she was the person to rule this kingdom. But, when the days grew hotter and turned colder, Meleah and rhaelle soon became...friends. Rhaelle had never had a friend before...well, a girl who was a friend anyway. She didn't know anyone that was her age back at King's Landing and  Diftmark was the same. During her time at Stonehold, rhaelle, and Meleah had much more in common than she expected. 

"Apologies, my queen." Meleah let out a giggle, shaking her head, rhaelle look at the young woman with a small smile. 

"Thank you, Mel. I needed that." Meleah bowed her head, and rhaelle squeezed her arm before leaving. 

Meleah watched from the balcony as rhaelle rode off on dragon back to the south, the ship following shortly behind. The young woman close her eyes and inhale before exhaling, she pray to her god for safety for her queen's return and that of the men who traveled south. Meleah opened her eyes and stare at the sun that sat on the water, meleah nerves were all over the place making her step back inside and head to her temple to pray more, she also needed to speak with her fellow sisters about some important business. 

❧

Valaena sat at the table with her grandmother and husband-to-be. She stared down at her plate with an empty look. She was tired and very anxious and had been on edge for the past couple of months since arriving at storm's end. Everything seemed like it was going fine. Boremund was a gentleman and respectful, he didn't seem half bad for a man known for his tense drinking and love for violence. Even when Otto left to return to king's landing, he was still the respectful man who kept her company and talked with him when he wasn't busy. 

But it seems nothing good ever lasts forever. After drinking and celebrating a good hunt with his men, Boremund somehow found his way to her chamber and an incident occurred. Luckily for her, nothing happened. But, it shook her to her core that something could have happened if he hadn't been severely drunk that caused him to fall asleep in her bed. The next morning, he apologized profoundly, making up excuses for his behavior and promising that she wouldn't have to deal with something like that with him again for the remainder of her visit because he lied and he did it again. It feels like a dream where you fall and before you can hit the ground you wake up. 

That's how it felt like with Boremund and her, he would always stumble into her chamber reeking of ale and get into her bed when she was half asleep. She would wake up immediately and try to convince him to leave. He would get a bit angry, which would lead valaena to escape and find an empty chamber to sleep in. The second time it happened, she went to find a guard to help her get Boremund to his bed, only for him to tell her that it wouldn't be wise for them to intervene and just sleep in a different room. After only a week staying with him, she grows to regret even considering him to betroth, she did not think she can do this every night until she reach the age of 15. 

"Valaena? Are you alright, you haven't touched your supper?" The young girl masked her misery and looked up at her grandmother with a smile and nodded. Rhaelle narrowed her eyes at her, making the young girl look away.

"She is fine, cousin. She is just watching her weight for the wedding, aren't you my dear," Boremund says, reaching forward to cover her hand with his own, making valaena gulp before giving him a tense smile. 

The doors to the hall of seven opened, making the three royals turn and shock plastered on Valaena's face when she saw her mother walk through the doors. She looked over at her grandmother who wore a smile on her face at the sight of her daughter. Rhaelle looked around the room before landing on the three people at the table. She eyed the linked hands of her daughter and cousin on the table as she walked closer to them. 

"What is going on here?" Rhaelle asked. She was standing by her mother while staring at her daughter. She snapped her eyes at Boremund as he got up from his chair, making Rhaella look him up and down in distaste. 

"We are celebrating mine and Valaena's engagement. Pull up a seat and join us, it has been a long time since we last saw you." He pulled out a chair that was across from his empty seat that sat next to rhaenys, rhaelle looked at the chair for a moment before entertaining him and taking a seat. He pushes you in and moves to go back to his seat. 

"Yes, it has, it seems. " She said, even as one of the servants brought out a plate with food on it. 

"So, tell us. Where have you been? I heard from Lord Mikhail that you were in essos," he started, while looking at her with his goblet in his hand. Valaena watched warily as Boremund gulped his wine down in one go, making rhaelle take notice of her reaction. 

"He says you became a courtesan in Braavos, of course, I didn't believe it, I knew no dragon would stoop so low." Rhaelle hummed, she was actually surprised by his words, "and then I remembered Saera Targaryen." His hand smacks the table as he let out a loud and boisterous laugh, rhaelle stared at him with a blank face as he laughs by himself, she glances over at her daughter who just sat there with an uncomfortable look, before glancing at rhaenys who look unamused. 

"I see your humor is still... tasteful, cousin." rhaelle said before rolling her eyes. Boremund chuckled, calming down before beckoning the servant to pour him more wine. 

When the servant came over to her, she placed her hand over the hem of the cup and shook her head, making the servant go away. This action caught Valaena's attention, making her look at her mother. 

"Oh, forgive me, cousin. I just could not help it, but I am truly curious to know where you have been." He asked, leaning back in his chair. Rhaelle looked at her daughter before speaking. 

"I've been in the serpent isles this past year. I remarried the lord of magonsæte just five moons ago." She said, making Valaena and Boremund look at her in surprise, rhaelle watched the wheel in his head turn. 

As Boremund gives his congratulations and goes into talking politics to rhaelle, she didn't listen as she stared over at her daughter who was looking at her plate, a dull pain spread in rhaelle's gut, and she wonders what terrors her daughter had to go through in her absence with this man. 

"....but we will wait until the war in the stepstones is over, of course, and with our houses entwined we will become strong as ever." He says, looking over at Valaena, who gave a weak smile, rhaelle looks back at Boremund and watched as he caresses the back of her daughter's hand with his thumb, making bile scratch at her throat. 

The depiction in front of her reminded her of Otto and herself, the older man and young girl married out of prosperity and greed, the confusing and overwhelming feelings that spir inside oneself. The memories of her conflicting feelings for Otto were one of her true downfalls. She tried not to admit to herself that she was in love with him and blamed her love for him to lead her to be pregnant by viserys. Rhaelle's hand went to her chest to anyone watching, it looked like she was touching her necklace, but in reality, she was having a mild anxiety attack. She glanced once more at her daughter and she saw herself, the innocent little girl who had no idea what was about to happen to her, and rhaelle parted her lips a bit getting air through before exhaling through her nose making her reassure herself. 

As rhaelle calm herself back down, the obnoxious voice of boremund came back, and the words he spilled from his drunken lips made her blood boil.  

"... and once our marriage is official, I do not doubt that we will have little dragonriders of our own running around." Boremund chuckled, turning his drunk smile to valaena before his hand grasp her chin turning her face to him as his thumb caress her cheek with a look that rhaelle knew all too well, she slammed her hand against the table catching everyone's attention including the servants who stood around. 

"The gods will have to put me in an early grave before I let that happen," Rhaelle said with a look of anger, valaena's eyes widen at her mother before moving to lord boremund. 

"Excuse me?" He says with a tilt of his head, with his eyes narrowing at rhaelle. 

"I have entertained this long enough, I have entertained you long enough, you are not marrying my daughter," Rhaelle said, both rhaenys and valaena look between the Baratheon male and velaryon girl. It was silent. Both adults look at one another before. 

Boremund let out a chortle. He took his full goblet again before downing it, "oh, sweet cousin you forget, you need my men to for the war in the stepstones." Boremund stood from his making Rhaelle do the same with a sharp glare. 

"I will be your son because you need my alliance, so let's bypass this pathetic attempt of you trying to be a good mother and talk like adults." He said with a smile that makes rhaelle want to curve that stupid smile off his face. 

"I don't need shit from you." She said, "What can a simple drunkard like yourself do for me..." The smile slid off of boremund face as he glared at rhaelle as she walk from her spot to around the table. 

"I have men–"

"So, do I." She said with a shrug, "I also have a dragon and ships and gold," she stood three feet away from him with her hands behind her back. 

"Magonsæte has 120,000 men and that is just in the capital, I have powerful men from essos, who I have alliances with triple the power and riches you have to come to my aid."

"My daughter bless her heart, it was in the right place to come to you, but no I will not be needing your services, not now, not five years from now...not ever," she look him up in down with impertinence, "But, I do wish you luck on finding a wife who can give you such children though, cousin," Rhaelle says with a smile, boremund took a threatening step closer making the guards of house velaryon armor cling together as they took a step close with their hands on their hilts. 

"You will regret this, I promise you that, girl." He spat with anger in his blue eyes making rhaelle raise her head high to show him, she wasn't afraid of him. 

"I sure hope so, my lord. Because it will bring me much pleasure to see you screaming in dragon fire." She spoke softly as she threatened him, he stare into her violet eyes forgetting who he was talking to for a moment.

Boremund steps back with a scowl still on his face, he glances at rhaenys who held a smile proud smile before looking at valaena who stared in panic and worry at the two adults. Boremund said nothing as he turn on his heels and left the hall of the seven, rhaelle watched with a satisfied look before looking at her mother with a smile. Rhaenys got up and wrap her arms around her daughter making rhaelle do the same, they pull away moments later smiling at each other, rhaelle ask her mother about the whereabouts of baelor. Rhaenys saw in her daughter's eyes that she wanted some time alone with valaena, so she told rhaelle, she goes find him making rhaelle give a sweet smile before watching her mother climb the stairs. 

Slowly turning her attention towards her daughter, rhaelle saw the young girl staring into nothing with a conflicted look on her face, rhaelle walk over to valaena took a seat next to her making the young girl snap out of her trance, and look at her mother. Neither woman nor girl said a word, rhaelle stared into her daughter's green eyes and saw the anger and pain that swirl around in them making her bite her cheek. She reach for her daughter's hand only for valaena to move it from the table and clasp her hands together in her lap, a sad sigh left rhaelle lips as she look down at the floor. 

"I know you are angry with me," she stop for a moment and look at her daughter, who look back at her with a blank look, "I know I wasn't always a good mother to you, I wasn't there when you needed me to be..." Rhaelle smother the emotion that was trying to crawl its way up her throat as she spoke to her daughter, the memories of her treatment towards her child were a painful reminder of how she fail being a mother to her eldest. 

Valaena let out a sharp sigh with an eye roll, "I do not want to hear this nonsense, mother. I'm going to my chambers." She said sliding her chair from the table and getting up, rhaelle stood up as well to stop her from leaving. 

"I'm sorry for what I put you through, and I will continue to say it until I am blue in the face. Please, my daughter, I can no longer bear you hating me. I wish to make things right between you and me." Rhaelle said with desperate written on her face as she look at her daughter. 

"You can't so better you bury it and leave me alone because I am never going to forgive you." Valaena snap moving to walk away, rhaella move her hand to valaena's shoulder making the young girl slap it away. 

Rhaelle stood back in defeat, "But, I don't want to bury it, and you do not need to feel alone not anymore, none of this has to be this way, valaena." The young girl shook her head as she stood on the first step of the stairs facing rhaelle. 

"You right it doesn't," she said, "but I want it to be because you are a selfish whore..." Rhaelle felt her heart crack when her daughter called her a "whore", it meant that she knew about everything that transpired back at the red keep. 

"You ruined everything, not only my life but you embarrassed me in front of lord Baratheon. Only the gods know what he thinks of me now and what he is going to say to others." Valaena said stressed, she feared that lord baratheon would speak ill of her to other suitors now that her mother made him an enemy. 

"I believe me when I tell you, you are better off without that drunken oaf, you deserve to experience life and marry a man who would love and treat you like a queen," Rhaelle says, valaena arms crossed as she glances at her mother before looking away, the thought of a man like that used to play in her dreams every night, but, now it felt like just that....a dream and she knows now that marriage isn't meant for such things in this world. It's like her father said. 

"Love is irrelevant to what you are doing here, it won't restore your honor. You are here to do one thing and one thing only which is to do your duty and produce heirs. Understood?" 

Her father's words rang through her head ever since he jump her off at storm's end, and he was right "love" was irrelevant in this situation. All that mattered was getting lord boremund to send his man to the stepstones and help her family, she did not need anything else. 

"Love is fictitious. I only care about my duties to my house," Valaena spoke, Rhaelle furrow her brows with concern at her daughter's words. 

"The only duty you should care about is to yourself, all I want is for you to be happy," rhaelle sigh putting her hands together in front of her face, "That is why I went away, so you wouldn't have to do this, so you wouldn't have to go through what I did..." Rhaelle looks down with burning eyes and a tight throat, valaena looks soft at her mother sensing something she never did before making her unravel her arms. 

"...to do what I had to do," Rhaelle whispered to herself, but valaena heard it and wondered what her mother meant. But, those thoughts were pushed aside as otto's voice invaded valaena's head, the words he spoke about the consequences that she will face if she let him down and end up like her mother. 

A stern look replaces valaena soft features, "That's the difference between you and me, mother. I will never do what you did to our family, just because you couldn't handle being a wife and a mother doesn't mean I will." Rhaelle looks up at her daughter with a somber look, "Now, if you excuse me I must go write to Lord Tyrell, maybe he or one of his sons require a wife." Rhaelle's frown deepened at her child not knowing what else to say to make her daughter hear her, valaena move to turn and walk when she stopped herself. 

"You know father was right to say I didn't need to feel sorry for what happened to you," Rhaelle slowly case her eyes at her daughter, "Father work so hard to get boremund to consider my hand in marriage, and you messed it up." 

Rhaenys never mentioned Otto in the letter, especially about being the one to set up this shitshow, rhaelle assume her daughter was sending letters back and forth with boremund leading up to him visiting Driftmark. 

"You are truly the poorest excuse of a woman and how anyone especially your mother and son still l love is a mystery to itself." The young girl says, at this point, she wanted to hurt her mother like she had been hurting these past few months. 

 "Maybe things will have been better if you had killed yourself," Valaena whispered, making Rhaelle snap her eyes away from the side to her daughter, a pit of rage grew in her very soul at her daughter's words. But, she will not act on that rage rather than go another route that she should have taken the moment she walks through those doors. 

"What did you just say." Valaena look at her mother mildly taken back at the dark tone in her voice, but she didn't show it and gave her mother a sharp look. 

"Nothing." She said quickly, but Rhaelle heard. 

She hum with a shake of her head as she wore a stern look, valaena had never seen her mother look so austere before not even when she and her brothers got into trouble, the look made valaena a bit nervous, maybe she went too far, she thought. 

 "I came here to make amends and hopefully build a better relationship with you, but I see otto's hooks have already dug too deep in your skin for you to do the same." Valaena looks back at her mother with a glare at the mention of her father. 

"Don't bring father into this." she sneered, rhaelle raise her brow at her daughter's protectiveness over her dear father, and the she-dragon let out a deep sigh of infuriation. 

"No, let's because I am tired of it, valaena." Rhaelle snaps taking a few steps towards the stairs and making valaena look her mother up and down, " I am tired of him pitting you against me–" Valaena scoffed. 

"He is not–"

"Yes, he is. Do not deny it. Because I know he been feeding you things, lies about me–." the young girl shook her head with a vexed look on her face. 

"Father isn't like that," Valaena said, rhaelle look at her daughter with an angry and conflicted look, she was torn between telling her daughter the truth about her father. 

"Well, you don't know him as I do, he is exactly the kind of man who would do that sort of thing. " rhaelle balled her hands, and she shift her weight from one foot to another.

Valaena stares at her mother as the woman begins to go frigid, "He's the worst type of man and if he has to he will lie and scheme to get people to do his bidding, I mean look at alicent." Valaena crosses her arms. 

"Alicent is doing her duty out of her own free will–" 

"You think Alicent wanted to marry that old sack and destroy her friendship with the princess, out of her own free will," Rhaelle says, valaena lips pursed as she looks at her mother. 

"W-well, nonetheless, at least she's making her house proud, what have you done to restore our honor." Rhaelle looks around with angry and wild eyes with her arms spread out.

"I got fucking married. That's why I left in the first place haven't you been listening to anything I been saying."

"No, not really, father says I shouldn't listen to falsehood especially if it comes from a whore's mouth." Valaena snide, rhaelle clench her jaw feeling her teeth crack under the pressure. 

"Can we please talk without you calling me a whore," Valaena stayed quiet as she stare at her mother with a bored look, while rhaelle stare back with an annoyed look. 

"Maybe if you stop talking to me like a child and more like an adult, maybe I'll consider stop calling you a whore." 

"That is hard to do since you are not an adult, you're a child." Valaena's jaw clench the same as her mother, she hated being treated and talk down to like a child, unlike her father who do the opposite. 

"You wanted to talk, right? Then talk to me like a woman than a little girl, if father could do it you can too, whore." Valaena snaps, and rhaelle felt something within her snap. 

"Okay, let's talk like adults." Rhaelle moves closer to her daughter making the young girl look her up and down with disdain, "You getting married is a bad idea." Valaena rolls her eyes. 

"This again why are you so cross with the idea of me getting married? Do you wish for me to be like lady jeyne? Lonely and miserable until I'm old and wrinkled. " 

"This isn't about marriage. It's about your age, I want you to marry when you're older when you understand it more." 

"I read I understand it plenty. "

"No, you don't, a book doesn't help you. I would know, I tried it and it didn't do shit for me." Rhaelle said bitter thinking back on it, the fact no one wanted to explain consummation or sex to her because she was a kid and inappropriate was bull, if they were okay with an older man and a young girl marrying then they should be okay with explaining what happens and not have her found out months later. 

"I still do not see what the problem is." Rhaelle looks at her daughter after drifting off about the past and sigh wiping her hand over her mouth. 

"The problem. Valaena. Is that if you marry someone especially right now and get pregnant you could die," Valaena looks at her mother's sad but still stern face, the young girl moves to fumble with her hands in front of her. 

"Possibly not certainly." She said. 

"Still a huge risk for someone your age," Rhaelle argues back. 

"And yet your still here,"

"Yes, but I almost wasn't." Rhaelle spoke softly coming up to stand in front of valaena, "Being in labor for fifteen hours and having to push out each of you was hard, but fighting to stay alive was harder." 

A small frown appeared upon rhaelle's lips as she remembered the complete darkness after she held her triplets, she remembered the pain she felt between her legs and her stomach. The coldness when they pulled her children from her arm to clean them up, how oblivion they were as she pleaded out weakly that something was wrong. She knew she was going die when she didn't feel the pain anymore, but the cries of her children made her fight like hell to stay awake in the end her children saved her. 

"...mother?" Rhaelle blink and look at her daughter who wore a frown with a look of worry in her eyes, rhaelle sniffed and shook her head. 

"Like I was saying, the stranger had a hold of me but luckily the mother spared me. I always pray that she spare you as she did me once you become a mother, " Valaena glanced at her mother with misty eyes, the young girl knows her mother is right and she could see how much she cares. 

"I do want you to get married and become a mother, valaena. But, you have to understand that you have dragon blood in you, and some men would want to use that for their advantage no matter the cost." Rhaelle put her hand on her daughter's shoulder while her hand while away valaena's tears. 

"The world is a scary place for us and I don't want you to be trapped like...feel trapped in a marriage, I want you to be able to be free and happy and protected and loved. That's all I want for you and your brothers." The young girl glances down at her hands, she believes her mother's words but the small voice in her head that belong to her father tells her to be wary of her mother and how she could be tricking her into abandoning her father. 

"I..." Valaena stops clearing her throat as she thinks about what to say next, rhaelle quirk a brow asking her daughter what was wrong before tilting her head to the side, valaena sigh moving her hands to wipe at her eyes and cheeks. 

"Maybe you are right...about the marriage thing, and I was wrong for saying all of that horrible stuff to you. I–" valaena didn't get to finish when rhaelle pulled her into a tight hug making valaena stand still with her arms out. 

"I forgive you." 

"But–" Valaena started. 

"I don't care if you aren't apologizing, I forgive you...I will always forgive you... and it's nice to know someone finally heard me." Rhaelle whispered in her daughter's kinky white hair as she smother her in her chest. 

Valaena slowly wraps her arms around her mother's waist, her bottom lip begins to quiver as she thinks about her mother's words. someone finally heard me.

@beggarsnotchoosey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @green-lxght @stormgirlfriendd @supermassiveblackhope

[gulnarsultan]

Oh, poor Elia Martell. I felt so sorry for her and her children. Modern Reader knows about the future of Elia and her children, so I think Modern Reader would try her best to save her and her children.

I don’t know, but I heard that House Martell was in Casterly Rock offering a betrothal between Cersei Lannister and Oberyn Martell and that happened after Joanna’s death. While there was a discussion on betrothal, Oberyn and Elia met Modern Reader and they became friends. I think while being trapped in Kings Landing in the Red Keep, Modern Reader would be by Elia’s side and taking care of her children Rhaenys and Aegon.

When Robert’s rebellion started, Modern Reader knew what would happen next and she didn’t want Elia and her children die, so she made a plan. Modern Reader sent a letter to Martells, to prepare a ship, then Modern Reader asks Jaime to help her, getting attention from guards that were standing outside of Elia’s chambers. She also told him her plan

Yandere platonic Jaime: Will I see you again?🥺

Modern Reader: We will see each other again, dear brother☺️. I promise you that. Please be careful, all right?

Yandere platonic Jaime: I will.

Then they start a plan, it happened at night. Modern Reader was inside Elia’s chambers and told Elia to get herself and her children ready, “It’s not safe to stay here, Elia. You and your children are in danger and I don’t want to lose my friend. Do you trust me?”- Modern Reader asked. “Yes, I trust you.”- Elia replied. When the guards weren’t around, Modern Reader holds Aegon in her hands and Elia holds Rhaenys in her hands (both wearing cloaks) leave the bedchambers and then leave the Red Keep unnoticed. When they are outside, they can see a ship with Martell flag, then they get into the boat and sail to the ship. The dornish men with Oberyn notice them and help them to get in the ship, first Rhaenys and Aegon, then Elia. But Modern Reader didn’t know whether to go with them or not. But it was decided, when Elia holds out her hand for Modern Reader. Modern Reader grabs her hand and gets into the ship and now they sail away from Kings Landing to Sunspear (capital of Dorne). While they are sailing, Modern Reader thinks about how her family (Yandere platonic House Lannister) is doing while she would be in Dorne. Modern Reader worries about Jaime and she would send him a letter telling him that she’s all right.

Finally Modern Reader, Elia, Oberyn, Rhaenys and Aegon reach the Sunspear. Modern Reader is welcomed in Dorne by Martells, because Modern Reader saved Elia and her children. Then Doran Martell tells Modern Reader, Oberyn and Elia that Aerys 2 demands Modern Reader to return. Modern Reader was ready to return, but Martells stop her, explaining that it’s not safe in Kings Landing and Elia repeats the same words “I don’t want to lose my friend.”

While she’s in Dorne, Modern Reader sends letters to her family (Tywin, Cersei, Jaime and Tyrion) that she’s all right and she’s treated well in Dorne. Also Modern Reader would ask Doran and Oberyn to go to the Tower of Joy with a few men (where Lyanna Stark is trapped after “being kidnapped”), then they (Oberyn, Modern Reader and dornish men) get in that place there would be a fight but I think Arthur Dayne and other Kings Guards surrender. Modern Reader and Oberyn see pregnant Lyanna laying on the bed (a few weeks later Jon Snow will be born). Modern Reader and Oberyn escort pregnant Lyanna to the Sunspear where good maesters could help. Modern Reader asks Martells not to tell what happened to Lyanna’s father and brother (who were executed by Mad King) and tell her after Jon would be born and after Lyanna feels all right. Then Modern Reader would send letters to Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon during rebellion “Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Robert Baratheon, I must inform you that Lady Lyanna Stark is saved and now she’s in Sunspear but I must inform you that Lyanna was pregnant and now she has a child. I think you need to know that. Lady Lyanna Stark and her child are safe, they will be in Sunspear, until the war is won. Your good friend Lady Y/N Lannister.”

In conclusion Elia and her children, also Lyanna are saved thanks to Modern Reader. Modern Reader and Lyanna with little Jon Snow will stay in Dorne until the war is won. House Martell and Lyanna Stark become yandere platonic towards Modern Reader.

I think House Martell wouldn’t join the war, which is a win for rebellions. Also Ned and Robert would appreciate Modern Reader for saving Lyanna Stark and Jon Snow. I have no doubts that Yandere platonic House Lannister would be so happy to see Modern Reader. I already see how Cersei runs happily towards Modern Reader and embrace her with a tight hug.

Yandere platonic Cersei: I missed you so much, big sister. I was so worried about you. 🥹

Modern Reader: I missed you too, dear sister. I’m okay as you can see.🥰

Then Yandere platonic Jaime and Tyrion came to meet Modern Reader: Hello, sister.🥹☺️

Modern Reader: Hello, my dear brothers. I told you we will see each other again. 🥰😉

And then there’s a group hug, meanwhile Tywin is standing there and watching. He cannot help, but smile. Tywin is happy to see his child.

Phew, that’s a lot. So what do you think? Imagine Rhaegar’s face when he finds out that not only Elia and her children are saved, but also Lyanna Stark is saved by Modern Reader and now Targaryen House lost control over Martell House, since Elia isn’t a hostage anymore. Not to mention Ser Arthur Dayne and other kings guards are captured by Modern Reader and Martells, although they would return to their families. Man, Aerys and Rhaegar would be shocked to these consequences. What do you think what would happen afterwards? What would happen after the rebellion? Since Lyanna is alive, I think Robert wouldn’t want to be the King or he could marry Lyanna and legitimise Jon Snow and become King and Queen of Seven Kingdoms. There are many possibilities. But Modern Reader, Y/N Lannister would be seen in a good light.

I always dreamed of a miracle that would save Elia and her children. Thanks to the reader, Eli and his children, Lyanna and Jon are safe. Rhaegar and Aerys are in for the shock of their lives. Martells will forever consider himself indebted to the reader. The Lannisters and the reader now live happily ever after and together. I actually have a few theories. Robert and Ned will rebel. House Targaryen is disappearing. Robbert is marrying either Cersei or possibly Lyanna. Jon is hiding again and growing up under Ned's care. Or Rhaegar ascends the throne. Elia lives happily in Dorneya with her children. Rhaegar keeps his son Jon and Lyanna with him.

[imaginepirates]

James Taking Care of You When You’re Stressed

James understands what it is to be stressed. The man has one of the most demanding jobs he could possibly have, so he knows the feeling well. He also knows how much he hates being stressed. It makes him frazzled, and it gets hard for him to focus. There have been many instances where stress keeps him from sleep. 

That being said, he wants to avoid that for you as much as possible. James isn’t one for grand gestures, really, but he understands the importance of doing small things when you’re stressed.

He makes sure your rooms are clean and tidy, so you don’t have to worry about picking up after him, or yourself, for that matter. Lord knows he leaves his own study a mess when he’s feeling anxious, and you’ve probably picked dishes up off his floor just so he has a de-cluttered place to work. He fiercely believes in returning the favor, and won’t say anything about it, either. He knows you don’t need his worry, and that sometimes, it’s just more stressful if he asks if you want him to do something for you. He doesn’t want you to feel guilty for any of it. 

He takes care of meal planning and what the servants need to shop for, as well as any household items that might be needed or need replacing. He doesn’t mind taking over the role of running the home, even if he feels like he barely lives in it sometimes. He may enlist Elizabeth’s expertise sometimes, just to make sure he’s doing everything correctly. He wants to take care of things perfectly for you so that you don’t have to worry about them. He probably learns a lot through this, too, which makes him appreciate your efforts at home all the more. 

The servants are whipped. They’re bringing you things you hadn’t even thought of yet, because James plans that far in advance. He does not mess around, especially not when it comes to you. He makes sure they slip you snacks when you forget to eat, small things, barely noticeable, but within an arm’s reach so you can mindlessly eat them without having to worry about making any food yourself. 

All the alcohol in the house magically disappears into a locked cabinet which neither you, nor James, has the key to. The key is given to one of the servants to hide somewhere neither of you will find it. This way, you can’t drink to relieve stress, and he can’t, either. It lets you keep your whits about you. James wants to be at his best to take care of you, and he isn’t letting any sort of drink get in the way of that. He knows firsthand that it can.

He’s completely composed the entire time, making sure to be a source of stability for you as you need it. He knows exactly how important it is that you have someone you can go to, and he wants that someone to be him. He loves you with all his being, and wants to be trusted with your worries. He’s literally the: “I’ll take care of you / It’s rotten work / Not to me. Not if it’s you.” quote. He always wants to make you feel safe and cared for. 

That being said, his composure will crack if he sees you getting too upset. He hates to watch you cry; it makes him feel helpless. Again, he wants you to feel safe, and will immediately come to hold you when you don’t. Not only does he want to comfort you, but he needs it as a comfort himself. When you get emotional, so does he. He is a poor boy who loves you so, so much. He just wants you to be happy.

If he’s away on tour and knows you’re stressed, he makes it a point to write to you every day. He needs you to know that he’s thinking about you, and even though he knows his letters won’t get to you as he writes them, he likes to think the little packets of letters that get sent to you offer you some comfort. He dates every one of them, and makes sure to include little details from his tour that might make you happy, like seeing a dolphin or how bright the stars are out at sea. 

Everybody in his crew knows when you’re not having a good time of it. James is probably pretty sour, just because he hates being away from you when you need him. The crew can tell, but they keep it to themselves. That is, until Groves asks and James looks at him with this lost sort of fear in his eyes, and Groves knows that James may need some comforting himself. 

The men make sure to pitch in and do something for you once they’re back. James never has any idea when they plan things for you, and is touched every time. So are you, of course. These boys go out of their way to make sure you’re doing alright, because if you’re doing alright, then so is James, and they care about him, whether he knows it or not. 

Again, if he’s away, he will send people from Fort Charles to check on you. Preferably Groves, who he sees as the most competent out of his men, and is the one he’s closest to anyway. He knows the two of you are on good terms, and that Groves won’t be intrusive about anything you don’t want to talk about. (The only person he will not send, on pain of death, is Gillette. The man is too oblivious to take care of himself sometimes, let alone take care of someone else, even if he’d heighten your spirits because he makes you laugh.)

James gives you head and back rubs, knowing that if your muscles can unwind, your mind can follow. He’ll let you sit in his lap as he works the tension from your kneck and shoulders, placing soft kisses to the top of your head the entire time, talking about whatever you need, even if it’s something aimless just to get your mind off of things. 

He brings you water when you’ve been crying. He doesn’t need you to ask; he knows you’ll be thirsty after a good cry, and, as a preschool teacher once put it, you can’t cry while you’re trying to drink. A glass of water will give you time enough away from the crying that you calm down a little. 

He’ll sit on the floor with you while you’re having a panic attack. He’ll hold you if you want, or keep his distance if you don’t. He knows not to crowd you, because it could make things worse, but it pains him not to hold you when you’re upset. He forces himself to keep his distance when he needs to, wanting only the best for you. He doesn’t care how long things last; he’ll stay the entire time. He wants you to know that he’d never leave you alone, especially not when you need him. 

He lets you rest against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, his fingers trailing through your hair. He won’t fall asleep until you do, just to make sure that there’s nothing you need before he dozes off. He’s a sucker for this, really. It makes him feel close to you, and he’s grateful to know that you find comfort in him when you need it. You may not be able to see him smiling softly down at you, but you know he is. 

He reads to you, too, in the hopes that just listening will help to calm you and lift your spirits. He probably knows passages from your favorite books by heart, and doesn’t even have to get up to go look at them. He has a wonderfully soothing voice that you could probably listen to forever. (I desperately need the man to do more audiobooks. I don’t even like them that much but his voiCE my god. Please.)

[tragedyofdevotion]

The fair lady

The fair lady has passed away. That information reached in the ears of even someone like you who was tucked away in this mansion for many years. You felt heartbroken when you first overheard the news from the maids. Rosalyne was a mesmerizing lady just as her code name implies. And surprisingly, she has was very kind and gentle with you in the rare times that you have met her. Even though you have never leave a foot out of this mansion after your marriage, you have known the stories from all around Teyvat due to the letters she sent without your husband knowing. You never saw her side where people fear and shake in terror. The Rose you knew was one without thorns, sweet and kind and loving. And your husband once said that she probably turns back to the Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter before she faced the tragedy. However, you have no idea why this change occurred. You were planning to ask her if there is a chance but now… you will never know the answer. When you are drowning in sorrow for your friend’s sudden departure, you heard someone knocked the door. So, you quickly wiped away your tears and calmed yourself down. You cannot let anyone, especially the maids, know you shed tears for La Signora because they will no doubt report it back to your husband. “The lord is coming back. I was told to inform you.”

“Huh? Why so soon? Normally he is always so busy at the bank until it was midnight. It is only noon, isn’t it?”

“Haven’t you heard the announcement, my lady?”

“What announcement?”

The maid looked exasperated for a second before changing her face into neutral look again.

“Every work in Snezhnaya is to be stopped for half a day in honor of the harbinger, La Signora.

Well then. If you will excuse me.”

She left as abruptly as she came.

It is clear to see that the maids and the butlers in this mansion does not favor you. In their eyes, you were someone who married the lord only because of money and still had the audacity to be ungrateful to him. Well, it is true that your parents did not think twice about selling you out to the richest man in Snezhnaya when their company went bankrupt. However, in the back of your mind, you know that even that bankruptcy was orchestrated by your now husband.

In your defense, you tried your best for things to not turn out this way.

You warned your parents not to trust the smiling man too much. You advised them not to invest too much in that project. You ventilated them to live contentedly by opening a bakery or something even after you lost all of your wealth. However, your words held no power over them as your family is as prideful as they are shortsighted.

On the other hand, it can be said that your husband value your opinion and view on various issues. Except for your wish for freedom that is. Otherwise, there is no way he would confide you about the deepest secrets Teyvat has in hold. Maybe that is why he was interested in you in the first place. You are kind but not naïve. Being born in the higher society, you know how wicked a human being can be and you can hold your ground against their scheme, sometimes going as far as to revenge them. But you still had your inner child and your pure eyes that glitter with delight at everyday things. It was irony in a sense that you held power in decision that can change the country and even the whole Teyvat yet cannot say a word in the decision of your own life.

“What have you been thinking so deeply that you did not notice your husband coming back, darling? I thought I made sure you were informed.” He said, smiling the same charming and creepy smile that he always adorned.

“I am not sure. Maybe I am thinking about running away from you.” You answered pointedly.

“Well then, I guess you are doing well. I thought you would be more devastated considering your girlfriend died recently.”

“What do you mean my girlfriend? Wait? You knew about the letters?!”

“Of course, I did. I can’t manage the northern bank if I am an ignorant man who doesn’t even know what is going on in his own house. I just pretended not to know because the content of your letters were innocent enough. Also, unlike your ex-boyfriend’s case, I wasn’t able to move carelessly considering she is a fellow harbinger. So, I am really grateful that the Raiden did the job for me.”

“You heartless ***!!! She was your comrade!”

“Weren’t you taught that a respectable lady shouldn’t say such vile words? And who is the heartless one? Are you sure you don’t notice what she had done in Inazuma?”

“Whatever she did, she did it for our country. She did it in the name of Tsaritsa. Moreover, whatever she did, she did not imprison a girl and treat her as her prized doll. Maybe you shouldn’t do vile things if you don’t want vile words to come out of my mouth.”

“Are you sure you should be saying things like that?” He slammed you against the wall and put his hands around your frame, effectively caging you between his body and the wall. “Your red knight, the only one who had a chance of saving you from the big bad monster is off dead, you know? Do I also need to remind you that it was your own parents who sold you to this devil. No matter how heartless they are, I am sure you wouldn’t want them to die of hunger in the cold nights of Snezhnaya mountains.”

Yes. He is right. All the luxury your parents are living in now is his. You hate to admit it but he actually bought you off so you are rightfully his, just like his various treasures. You were so shaken by your one true friend’s death that you let it slip off your mind.

“No. I am sorry, Pantalone-sama. Please forgive me.” It took every ounce of your muscles to vocalize those words.

“I understand, my dear. You were just so shocked by Signora’s death, right? I will forgive you THIS TIME. In exchange you have to promise me – no more pen pals, ok? I can’t be sure I will be as patient the next time.” He threatened, using the tone a teacher soothing an elementary kid and you hated it. But what you hated more was his smile, that damn smile that is never leaving his face. You wished you could ripe it off.

But you said what is the polar opposite of your mind.

“Thank you for your benevolence, Pantalone-sama.”

A drop of tear escaped your eye and you only noticed it when it wet your cheeks.

You didn’t have time to figure out whether it is for your friend or for yourself as the Regrator in front of you quickly wiped it away.

[unusual-raccoon]

Silver Son (Ch. 1) | by Unusual_Raccoon (JaceLuke)

for @greeksorceress

@livinginafantasysposts, @angelicpraxis, @bimyself06

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Jacaerys Velaryon, Blonde Jacaerys Velaryon, Jace is Daemon's Biological Son, Complicated Relationships, Political Alliances, Canon-Typical Violence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jacaerys Velaryon, Omega Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Episode: s01e08 The Lord of the Tides (House of the Dragon), Viserys I Targaryen Lives, Daemyra Have Disney Parent-itis = they died

Summary:

The startling death of both his mother and step-father leaves Lucerys reeling and taken to ward in the Vale. When his claim to Driftmark is threatened, he is left defenseless, with only an estranged elder half brother to call upon for aid: Jacaerys Targaryen - the prince of Dragonstone.

WC: 5,4K+

Ao3 Link

It began with a letter.

A scroll had arrived upon Dragonstone, to his ancestral seat, the seat inherited from his mother and bestowed upon him by the king. His grandsire had been benevolent, loving even, in his decision. In addition to retaining his mother’s seat upon Dragonstone, it was the King’s wish that he also take the family name.

Jacaerys ran reverent fingers over the practiced effete hand scrawled across the parchment.

To the Prince of Dragonstone,

I write to you in my time of need. The passing of our mother has been a time of great sorrow, which has only been worsened by my claim upon Driftmark being challenged by Ser Vaemond Velaryon. He believes himself to be more deserving of the seat and seeks to use our mother’s passing and my status as an Omega to strengthen his own claim. Had I closer kin to call upon, I assure you, this burden would be placed upon them and not you. However the enormity of your presence at the proceedings cannot be understated. Your support as my blood, our mother’s eldest male, and as the holder of our family’s ancestral seat would be invaluable. I am currently a ward of the Lady Jeyne Arryn in the Vale, any further correspondence should be sent to the Eyrie.

Your estranged yet hopeful brother,

Prince Lucerys Velaryon

The letter was passed to his sisters, Baela and Rhaena, who unsurprisingly read it together, their white-gold heads tilted together, lips moving in unison as they read.

He was certain if their father had yet lived, he would insist on Jacaerys wedding them both. As of yet, he had married neither.

“Gerardys thinks discretion is best,” Jacaerys informed.

“I want to know your thoughts.”

“He is in the Vale,” Rhaena began.

“And Jeyne Arryn hated father.” Baela added, “Write to him if you wish…”

“I doubt the Lady Jeyne will permit my letters to get very far.” Jacaerys concluded with a frown, resting his chin against a closed fist.

“Jace,” Baela called, voice beseeching, yet firm, her small copper hand framed over his, “he is your brother,” she looked briefly towards Rhaena with intention before turning back to Jacaerys, “and he is alone…do what you must and know that we will support you.”

The proceedings would be soon, no doubt. He would fly to King’s Landing, support his brother and return home before long. If only to honor their mother’s legacy.

“Ser Steffon,” He called, the knight had been loyal to his mother and Jacaerys had squired for him for a time when he was a boy. Daemon had trusted him.

“Please inform Maester Gerardys that we will be departing for King’s Landing.”

The older man gave a nod, and a curt, “my prince.”

. . .

It had been days since he had sent his letter and the lady of the Vale had been adamant in sharing her opinion on the matter.

It had been days and he had yet to receive word from his elder brother. Not so much as a single scroll from a raven. Nothing.

Days and he, himself, was now awaiting the proceedings in King’s Landing. A boy of four and ten, left to contest the claims of a landed knight of noble blood, alone. If the Sea Snake survived the wounds he sustained in the Stepstones, then mayhaps he’d receive some support. The whispers that floated around court were far from promising though.

Ser Corwyn of House Corbray had traveled with him at Jeyne Arryn’s behest to ensure his safety, though Lucerys was not so oblivious, he knew her motives in part. Aside from offering protection, should the proceedings conclude in a manner that was unfavorable, Lucerys would return to the Vale with Corwyn, with little else to protect him but his shared blood with House Arryn, and little to offer but his hand.

Corwyn was genial and handsome, a level-headed Beta with an adequate inheritance. Given the circumstances, should the worst come to pass it was the best he could hope for.

Vaemond Velaryon droned on about the storied past of House Velaryon, and if, perhaps the lecture were regarding anything other than the contesting of Lucerys’ claim upon Driftmark, he may have been moved by the impassioned words.

Misfortune was more than a friend to him, she was a lover, a cruel mistress - his grandsire, the King Viserys did not sit the throne. His hand, Otto Hightower and lady wife, Queen Alicent Hightower, did in his stead.

Hope was a diminishing thing.

He swallowed a breath and made his peace. Mayhaps Corwyn wouldn’t mind if Joffrey lived with them, Lucerys would hate to lose contact with his younger brother as he had with Aegon and Viserys when mother passed.

The doors to the throne room promptly swing open as a member of the Kingsguard heralds the arrival of something Lucerys had dared not dream of - hope.

“Jacaerys Targaryen, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone!”

It resounded through the throne room, clear and strong. A shiver bolted down Lucerys' spine, crackling to trembling, cold fingertips.

“The princesses Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, daughters of Daemon Targaryen!”

His chest constricted as three white-gold heads came into view. He came, he came, he came.

Dressed in the colors of their house, Valyrian steel upon his hip and sisters at his side, there was no denying his elder brother cut the image of the conqueror. His mother’s first born, her beloved Jacaerys, her silver son.

Envy and something warmer prickled in Lucerys’ belly as he witnessed his brother carve his way into the room.

It was a horror to face Alicent and her parade of snide silver-haired children, yet as Jacaerys and their cousins came to a halt silently by his side, Lucerys felt…bolstered. Unafraid.

He swallowed dumbly, too stunned to speak.

“Prince Jacaerys,” Otto Hightower began in his slithering way, “I was unaware you had been summoned to the proceedings.”

“As they do not concern you,” Vaemond Velaryon added pointedly.

“These proceedings concern my brother, ser, therefore they are indeed my concern. Do you intend to remove me from the proceedings, or am I no longer my father’s son?”

Sweat clung thickly to Lucerys’ nape.

Vaemond’s eyes darted to the dragon’s egg pommel of Dark Sister at Jacaerys’ hip.

“Indeed…you are.” Vaemond drawled.

Jacaerys rested an easy palm upon his sword - the sword of his true father. Lips tilted in the smile of someone who was well versed in their games.

Thank the gods, Lucerys thought.

“Be calm,” his brother said in a whisper, “all is well.”

Lucerys blinked up at his brother owlishly, as Jacaerys faced the likes of the greens with a steely expression, utterly statuesque.

“Continue, Ser Vaemond.” The Lady Alicent Hightower bade, though as he made to speak, the doors to the throne room were parted a second time.

And heralded was not only further hope, but the head of their house. The King.

Lucerys watched with a delirious sort of relief as the hand of the king slithered from the throne he coveted so dearly.

The death of both his daughter and brother had worsened the king’s rapidly declining health, and yet, the man appeared to fend off the Stranger time and again, if only out of spite.

His frail form hobbled across the throne room, short of breath. All seemed cowed by the appearance of their poorly sovereign. Yet, it was the prince of Dragonstone that stood tall with pride at the sight of him.

Every head bowed as the king passed, Lucerys discerned his brother’s silver head lowered in deep deference.

Their grandsire paused before the throne, breathing a labor and grip tight on the ivory dragon’s head upon his cane.

He soldiered up the first few steps before his footing grew encumbered by his weakened state, and his crown clattered to the floor of the throne room with a deafening clang.

Members of the kingsguard rushed to his side, yet Viserys denied their aid. Grip coiled so tightly upon his cane that Lucerys feared the handle might snap.

Lucerys wondered his elder brother’s thoughts on the matter, yet turned to his side and found Jacaerys…gone.

It was neither the king's own sons, nor his lady wife that stood  beside him, but rather, Jacaerys. His brother had collected the King’s crown, and offered a hand to their grandsire.

To the surprise of all, Lucerys included, this was support he accepted. Viserys hissed and groaned in pain as he forced his decaying body and atrophied limbs to scale each step.

It was with Jacaerys’ aid that their frail king was lowered into his rightful seat, crown upon his head.

Lucerys watched as Jacaerys stalked to his side once more…blood rushed to his cheeks.

His brother’s scent wafted in a curious curl, the woodsy aroma white oak and the crackling sweetness of an open flame exacerbated the throbbing ache of his blush that burned upon his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

Their grandsire huffed upon the throne.

“I must…admit my confusion…” their grandsire began, the affable thoughtlessness of an old, sickly man, or so it seemed, “I do not understand…why petitions are being heard over a settled succession?”

The hazy memory of Driftmark’s white sands came in like the tide. His cold little feet tucked against the backs of warm knees, secreted away in a bed that was not his own. Hushed, giggling whispers, then frantic ones. Something had been stolen, something important. Pale hair so unlike his own stained more crimson than silver in milky moonlight, a single hefty stone caked wet with blood, a single eye slashed in defense.

Lucerys’ succession had been settled there, he supposed, he recalled very little of his youth.

Driftmark, Lucerys swallowed, was that the last time he had seen his elder brother?

Viserys’ voice pulled him from his thoughts, much like Valyrian steel, it seemed the aged and peaceful king had never quite lost his edge, nor wit.

Their grandmother Rhaenys was summoned forth, Lucerys had written to her as well, but her support had been just as uncertain as that of his illusory elder half-brother, Jacaerys.

Yet, when Rhaenys voiced Lord Corlys’ unwavering desire for Lucerys to inherit the driftwood throne, and came to the aid of her grandson above that of her good-brother, Vaemond began to unravel with a manic air about him.

“Well…” their grandsire huffed,“the matter is settled…again.”

“I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon, as the heir to Driftmark, the driftwood throne, and the next lord of the tides.”

By his side, Jacaerys straightened with a satisfied smirk. His cousins - cousins Jacaerys had once defended - smiled upon his other side.

“You break law…” Vaemond began, voice awed, deepening with festering outrage, “and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, hubris that the gods have paid you for, yet you would dare tell me who should inherit the name Velaryon?”

Lucerys gasped, a shaking hand pressed to his open mouth. Tears stung in his eyes, to invoke the memory of their mother in such a manner - his chest ached.

“No - I will not allow it.” The hoarse whisper of his voice sent tremors of icy dread down Lucerys spine. Subtly, he noticed Jacaerys’ grip curl white-knuckled upon Dark Sister’s hilt.

The irony of Vaemond’s arrogance and talk of hubris was not lost upon the young prince as every word was but a whetstone to a headsman's axe. Such was the irrevocable ego of a noble alpha, something he was certain his elder brother possessed.

“Allow it?” Viserys echoed in a rasp, the visible side of his face spasmed with rage and grief.

“Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.” Viserys reprimanded, gravitas in his voice.

Ser Vaemond whirled upon them quickly, a growl in his voice as he pointed to Lucerys.

“That-” a finger was held in accusation, a lance set to pierce, “is no true Velaryon! He is certainly no nephew of mine.”

Lucerys wished to shrink from the attention, but instead mimed the set of his elder brother’s shoulders, channeling the power of their blood.

Vaemond’s threat was met in kind as Jacaerys growled a warning, tangible, the single building flange of his subvocals said ‘Mind your waggling tongue, great-uncle, or I shall mind it for you’.

The sound was that of a young, powerful, and virile alpha. Lucerys felt his brain begin to grow heavy with responsive pheromones. The sweetness of vanilla and browned butter softened the air, the faint twinge of sourness like curdled milk betrayed his distress.

Jacaerys stared at the man, their supposed kin, with disdainful violet eyes and a tense jaw. A knight decades his senior, and his elder brother did not flinch.

The urge to tug upon Jacaerys’ sleeve became overwhelming, a reflexive motion that he had no memory of learning, but nonetheless it was a desire he felt compelled to sate. He felt an itch in his bones to anchor himself to his elder brother.

At the rate the petition was going, Lucerys would rather simply wed Corwyn Corbray and hand his claim over - it was only in his mother’s name that he fought.

She had been adamant throughout his life regarding his legitimacy, regardless of how greensick he got amidst the swaying of a ship, or the fairness of his skin, or darkness of his hair - he was a Velaryon.

“My house has survived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides,” Vaemond raged, tempestuous, “and I will not see it ended on account of this b-”

His lips pursed tightly as if to hold the word back.

Jacaerys did not hide the flash of pointed teeth then. Oh, but his brother was clever, forcing his snarling lips into a smile. Goading.

“Say it…” Jace challenged in a chilling whisper.

Lucerys could scarcely find his breath, his cheeks burned with mortification. He could feel the leer of a vindicated one-eyed gaze. The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air. 

Bastard.

The rush of blood to his ears muffled all else.

“Your daughter was a whore, and her children are bastards!”

His brother’s scent thickened, more open flame than white oak as the king staggered to his feet with a growl.

Their grandsire tore his dagger from its sheath.

“I…will have your tongue for that.” The king demanded with bared, rotting teeth.

Lucerys’ hand shook, desperate for the finery of his brother’s sleeve…

He heard the scrape of steel being pulled from a scabbard. The whistling swing of it as it split the air. It happened quickly. Too quickly.

A wet slice, and the throne room echoed with cries of horror.

Ser Vaemond’s corpse slumped to the ground in two pieces.

The severed half of his head on one side, the motionless majority of his body upon the other. Betwixt the two pieces stood Jacaerys, Dark Sister in hand.

“You needn’t trouble yourself, your grace.” His elder brother said, reaching down with a twist of the blade before a wet hunk of pink flesh, oozing blood, was held between crimson fingers like a prize.

“Disarm him!” Otto Hightower demanded, yet the king merely held up a shaking hand to draw the swarm of Kingsguard to a swift halt; there was no ambiguity whom they served.

Jacaerys’ white-gold head lowered in deference as he cleaned the blade upon the velvet sleeve of his doublet. His sword returned to its sheath.

Lucerys felt bile burn in his throat as he stared at Vaemond’s corpse, utterly dazed. The overwhelming scent of iron flooded his olfactory senses; aside from Jacaerys, it was all he could smell, fire and blood.

He blinked and found tears in his eyes, his chest ached as he found the violet eyes of his elder brother; a stranger…

“Let this…stand as a reminder to those that would speak ill against the blood of House Targaryen…This proceeding is adjourned.”

The king declared, short of breath, expression pained.

Lucerys watched in horror as Vaemond’s head was plucked from the ground, held aloft in his brother’s fist; wet chunks of unspooled brains decorated the throne room’s polished floors like a great many wriggling worms.

As nobles and attending parties filed out, Lucerys had all but fled the throne room in a flurry of blue silks; some shades of aquamarine and seafoam to honor the Velaryon name, others in shades of sky blue to give thanks to his hosts in the Eyrie.

Thankfully, he discovered Ser Corwyn, who regarded him with a concerned expression, displaying none of the mania of Lucerys’ elder brother.

“Ready the horses,” Lucerys panted, steadying himself upon the proffered width of the knight’s forearm,“please.”

Corwyn’s hand was warm where it settled atop Luke’s fine little knuckles.

“Shall I fetch a maester, my prince, you look unwell-”

“Just the horses, please,” He hissed, “the sooner we might return to the Vale, the better.”

Corwyn’s gaze softened with what appeared to be fondness.

“Of course.”

Lucerys hurried to guest chambers provided to him within the keep, his face pressed between shaking hands. Gods, what had he done?

It had been a mistake to ever seek out his brother’s help. He sat upon the bed, head held in his hands - the image of Vaemond’s severed head swaying in Jacaerys’ grasp flashed behind closed eyes.

He flinched at a loud knock at the door, a shaking hand pressed to his ashen lips.

The image of pale hair stained more crimson than silver flashed through his mind.

“My prince,” a voice called, muffled through the door, “it is Ser Corwyn…”

“Ser Corwyn,” Lucerys echoed shakily, “enter.”

The Valeman offered a courteous nod, arms clasped behind his back, Lady Forlorn gleamed upon his hip.

“The horses have been readied, my prince,” Ser Corwyn informed.

Lucerys nodded shakily, “You have my gratitude, Ser Corwyn…” he uttered, “Your companionship has been…cherished in these times.”

The knight swallowed, standing a bit straighter. Betas had no scent to speak of, not in the way Alphas and Omegas did, but Lucerys discerned his words had the desired effect when his escort’s cheeks took a faint dusky hue.

“You honor me, my prince. Find me in the stables when you are prepared to depart.”

“Yes, of course.”

Not one to overstay his welcome, Corwyn departed, letting the door to Lucerys' chambers slide shut - yet it never did.

Lucerys gasped as he turned to find crimson fingers jammed in the door’s path, a figure garbed in the colors of their house slipped into the sanctity of his rooms soundlessly.

Jacaerys.

“I was wondering where you had gone.” His brother huffed, miraculously Vaemond’s head was nowhere in sight, which mayhaps was more disturbing a thought than if his brother was still carrying it about.

“The proceedings had concluded-” Lucerys began, pulse leaping hard.

“Aye,” his brother said, “And not so much as a ‘thank you’.”

Luke’s cheeks burned with a fierce blush.

“I- forgive me, of course, you have my thanks.”

His brother’s nose - mother’s nose, in fact, - curled in disapproval. He scratched idly at a speck of dried blood upon his cheek.

“You did not seem particularly enthused.” Jacaerys informed, with a dour turn of his lips.

Lucerys stared at his elder half-brother in disbelief.

“By your theatrics?”

“Theatrics?” His brother scoffed. The scent of white oak and open flames muddied his good sense.

“Yes, forgive me, Jacaerys, if I do not fall to your feet with gratitude - you have entirely sullied my claim to Driftmark with the murder of Ser Vaemond Velaryon.” 

Mayhaps it was his grief that fueled the fire burning within him, mayhaps it was something more…

“I shall be remembered as nothing more than a kinslayer who spilled blood for a seat he did not even want… thank you, brother.”

“A kinslayer?” Jacaerys echoed, apparently amused, “let us speak plainly, he was not your kin, and you had no hand in his murder.”

Bastard, the word rang in his head.

“Do you truly believe the courts will see it as such? That they will believe that I had not commanded it of you-”

“Commanded it?” His brother laughed, “I do not think the courts view you as capable of commanding a dog.”

Lucerys let out an indignant noise. His jaw clenched to the point of pain. His words were unbefitting of an Omega, especially a prince, regardless of his outrage. He was to conduct himself with aplomb.

“I - perhaps you are right,” Luke said coolly.

Curiosity flashed in the violet of his brother’s eyes.

“I am…grateful for your presence at the proceedings today.”

Jacaerys’ brow furrowed slightly, disdainfully plush lips flattened into an unamused expression.

His brother took a step closer and Lucerys shivered, feeling as he passed into the sphere of his brother’s blanketing scent. The odor of white oak and sweetness of open flames saturated his palate.

Lucerys felt his spine begin to lose rigidly, the tight furl of his fists begin to wane.

His heart pounded faster, harder, lodged in his throat. Horror spread through him like a sickness as his wretched hindbrain poisoned him with pacifying pheromones. He knew little of his brother for certain, save that he was entirely mad.

His head lolled back effortlessly, white throat exposed. Reddened fingers reached for him.

“Do not, I-” He shuddered as the space between himself and his brother shrank too much, “I will…scream.”

Jacaerys paused, his expression neutral, had he remained placid Lucerys might have admitted that his elder half-brother was handsome.

“I am your kin,” Jacaerys said carefully, as if that might ease Lucerys’ worry.

It did not.

“There are many people in this very keep that are my kin, all of whom would gladly see me dead.”

His brother held up large placating hands.

“Luke,” he exhaled and it startled Lucerys how natural his name sounded upon his brother’s tongue, “I am not one of them.”

He swallowed. Telling friends from foe became increasingly difficult, even more so following the passing of their mother.

“Swear it,” Lucerys demanded, “Swear that you will not harm me.”

He stared at his brother, silver haired, Valyrian steel upon his hip - the antithesis of all that Lucerys was, and yet the same.

“Swear it up your father’s sword.”

His brother smiled down at the dragon’s egg pommel of Dark Sister…

“Is my presence in this wretched place not proof enough of my concern for you?”

Lucerys shook his head with a small sound, “For all I know you came today to secure Driftmark’s seat for one of your wives.”

His brother’s expression remained infuriatingly unreadable.

“I came only in support of my brother who needed me.”

“‘Tis very virtuous of you,” Lucerys replied with a small sneer, “Swear it now, that we might ally ourselves, and when you are in want of your crown in the future, know that you might pursue it with the Velaryon fleet at your back.”

Jacaerys smirked.

“Your proposal is sound…”

Luke nodded.

“Though, there is a way we might ally ourselves more…officially, in turn strengthening both your claim to Driftmark and mine to the throne.”

Lucerys narrowed dark eyes at his brother.

“How…?”

The scent of vanilla and browned butter melted into the air.

Jacaerys’ smile widened.

“Marry me” he said, as though it were the simplest thing there was.

Luke tensed, mouth hanging open.

“I - what?”

His brother stepped closer, but halted swiftly as if remembering Lucerys’ warning.

“Think of it - we could marry upon Dragonstone, none would oppose it. None would dare contest your claim or parentage without knowing my wroth. You would be spared the horror of being sold like chattel to the highest bidder, should you return to the Eyrie with that pretentious fool of a Beta. Marrying within our house, in a ceremony steeped in tradition, it would do well for your image,”

He patted the hilt of his sword, “A marriage is as binding as any oath…Were you my wife, I would allow no harm to befall you. You have gone too long without an Alpha. Too long without proper protection.”

Lucerys licked his lips, spine tingling.

“How is - I cannot imagine your wives are amenable to the idea.”

Jacaerys chuckled and oh, it was a pleasant sound that buzzed in his ears.

“I am unmarried. As are my sisters.”

Lucerys stared at his brother, as his aggravatingly handsome half-smile, the pointed peek of a canine visible. A speck of blood dried upon his cheek.

“I-”

Jacaerys stepped closer and Lucerys’ head swam with his scent, the lulling tide of pheromones that dampened his senses and dulled his shrewdness.

His brother was a stranger in truth, one that seemed too unpredictable to trust. Yet, Lucerys found himself in the weakened state of needing allies - powerful ones.

His brother held the dragon seat. His brother was the prince of Dragonstone. Their mother’s eldest son. Trained in the likes of history and swordplay in the North. He wielded Dark Sister. He was the blood of the dragon.

“Allow me to consider the matter further?”

His brother’s mouth twisted in a frown. His jaw flexed tightly.

“I- I have things in the Vale that I must think of,”

“Lovers?” There was the flange of an unrealized growl in his brother’s throat that turned his knees to liquid.

“No,” he huffed, “things of greater importance-”

“If they are important, I will have them brought to Dragonstone-”

“Gods, it is my dragon!” He cried out, “And my brother, my full-blooded brother. Joffrey.”

Jacaerys’ brow furrowed.

“I will not part with him - I will not.”

Joffrey had been through too much, he had lost too much. He refused to simply abandon him. He would sooner incur Jacaerys’ wroth himself, before leaving Joffrey behind.

His brother’s gaze stilled upon his lips and Lucerys felt the pump of his heart within his chest like a frightened hare.

“You will not.” Jacaerys echoed with deep meaning.

“Return to the Vale,” His brother instructed, “both are welcome home.”

Home… Lucerys thought, Gods, he hadn’t dared to dream of having one since the passing of his mother.

He wrung fine blue silks between damp palms.

“Jacaerys?” Luke called, throat tight, “why are you doing this?”

His body burned warm with the heat of that violet gaze upon his lips once more.

“Why help me?”

His brother offered a smile that softened his features and creased the corners of his eyes.

“I,” he paused, not one wont for hesitation, the mere hitch in his breath seemed significant, “I believe it is what our mother would have wanted.”

Lucerys sucked in a sharp breath. His vision waned and the unsteadiness of his legs threatened to give out. He braced a hand upon whatever he could reach - evidently, that was Jacaerys.

His fingers felt smooth velvet and the coarseness of dried blood - Vaemond’s blood, blood Jacaerys had spilled in hisname…

He clung to his brother’s sleeve, the motion was the burn of an itch being scratched to the point of pain and drawn blood.

The memory of High Tide returned in fractured pieces, the pair of them bloody, the left side of Jacaerys face was streaked red, Luke’s nose had been broken, his hand was clutched to his elder brother’s sleeve…

“Two weeks,” his brother murmured, breath warm and so very near Lucerys’ parted lips, “A fortnight from here to the Vale - no stops. Be sure to inform your pet, you have appointments to keep.”

Appointments, Lucerys thought dizzily, a wedding.

“I must consider it further, my departure from the Vale will crush Ser Corwyn,”

Jacaerys smiled, all sharp teeth, “Have care, I will crush him if he intends to deny your departure.”

Lucerys felt the incandescent swell of whine in his throat. His brother pressed him more firmly to his chest. Aquiline nose touching Lucerys’ temple. The scent of white oak and the sweetness of an open flame was all around him.

“He will not, he is an honorable sort. Not at all the kind of man to murder a knight unawares like a cutthroat.”

Jacaerys chuckled.

“Let him keep his honor,” His elder-brother hummed as Lucerys’ eyes fluttered shut, “So long as he does not keep you…”

His head swam as he was carefully lowered to a plush seat upon the edge of the bed within his chambers. The happenings of the day had drawn the vigor from him, his adrenaline fizzled dry in his veins.

“I have not agreed to anything,” Lucerys slurred, slumping in his brother’s arms.

We lived here once, he thought to himself, wrapped in his brother’s scent, together.

Yet, when he awoke, it was to an empty bed and a sore head and the flake of dried blood beneath his nails.

. . .

Jacaerys had answered the king's summons, pausing at the sound of fervent discussion and what sounded like the queen’s voice echoing from the king’s chambers.

“-the boy is entirely mad, Viserys. He was seen feeding Ser Vaemond’s head to his horrid dragon-”

Jace smirked to himself.

“Who has seen such things?” His grandsire asked.

“I- what?” The queen stammered.

“The guards reported he entered the dragonpit with Ser Vaemond’s head and exited the pit without it.” 

“How do you know Vaemond’s head was fed to a dragon? Did you witness the act itself?” Viserys asked, a shrewdness about his words that made the queen hiss in frustration.

The doors to the king’s chambers were thrown open and the queen emerged, face bloodless at the sight of him.

“Your grace,” Jacaerys greeted with a nod.

He knocked gently upon his grandsire’s door.

“You wished to see me, your grace.”

Viserys eyed him behind the copious layers of fresh linen bandages. His grandsire gave a stiff nod and motioned for Jace to close the door to his chambers.

He seemed a smaller man, bundled beneath blankets, frail. Yet, there had not been a sight more powerful than his entry into the throne room.

“Sit.” The king bade, his liver-spotted head with its lank silver strands tilted towards an empty seat near enough to his own.

Jacaerys nodded and took his seat.

“The queen thinks me a monster,” He said, though the thought did not unsettle him, in fact, he took a great deal of comfort at the thought of Alicent Hightower fearing him. His grandsire coughed noisily into a kerchief.

“She speaks out of fear, many would given what you did today.” His grandsire said, a milky violet eye narrowed knowingly.

“I defended the honor of my house, of my brother’s name, my mother’s name. The man was bound for a traitor’s death given how he spoke to you.”

Viserys said nothing for a time.

“Were you not my blood you would be bound for the same, you know this.”

“Your grace-”

“Jacaerys,” His grandsire huffed in irritation, “you are the worst of them at times,” He murmured, remaining eye wet with tears, “their stubbornness, their entitlement, their restlessness, his brashness, his arrogance-”

His throat tightened and he shied from the bluntness of his grandsire’s words. Softening at the affectionate brush of aged fingers against his cheek.

“And yet, you are the best of him at times, loyal, brave, cunning…”

They lapsed into a raw, red silence.

“For the gods to take them both-” His grandsire inhaled a deep, shaking breath, “I am sorry, my boy, that we have not spoken sooner.”

A shaking hand settled atop his where it clung to the arm of his chair, “I could not condemn your actions, child. Let the hens at court cluck and gossip as they like about the matter, but what you say is true, you were defending your family; and the blood of the dragon runs thick. Worry not for the queen nor her ilk, do you understand?”

Jacaerys nodded, cheeks damp.

“Thank you,” Jace murmured, clutching tight to his grandsire’s hand as the elder Alpha nodded, his exhaustion clear in his every movement.

“You must swear something to me, Jacaerys.”

“Anything-”

“Be better than we were, dear boy. The loss of a parent is…dire. It wounds here,” his grandsire’s shaking fingers poked at his chest, at the three-headed dragon sewn upon Jacaerys’s doublet, “in the soul.”

“As grievous the loss, do not let it be the cause for any more… you have spent much time away from your brother, he may not say it, Jacaerys, but he needs you...and I speak with authority on the matter when I say, you need him just as well. Swear that you will guard one another, always, regardless of childish disagreements - swear that you will let nothing divide you."

Jace swallowed beyond the lump in his throat, found the taste of vanilla and browned butter upon his tongue.

He met his grandsire’s gaze, gripped their aged king’s hand in his with intention.

“I swear it.”

[lotuslovers]

‘Running from love’ // t.r part 4

Pairing: female!potter(james’ sister) x Tom Riddle

wc: 1.6 k

Summary: In the past, the reader hadn't hope to fall in love with him, their goal was to prevent the rise of the Dark Lord but nothing seemed to go as planned when they are sent back into the future. In the months following the return, Tom Riddle continues to haunt their nightmares and their new reality as he closes in on them. How can an old love cause so much harm? 

Trigger warnings: none

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | tbc

How does one set up a meeting with the Dark Lord? I suppose you can’t just owl his assistant for available time slots. She had no clue about his whereabouts so she decided it was time to owl one of their closest friends, Abraxas Malfoy. After a long drawn out night, she attempted to compose a letter by rewriting it time and time again until she knew it was sculpted to perfection. She sent the letter off in a black envelope to the owl post office to be set out. The letter read:

Dear Abraxas,

It comes in time where I reach back out to you, to my dismay it is under these circumstances. I understand it has been many years, decades since you have last heard from me but hopefully you haven't forgotten me. My letter regards my Tom, the attached letter is to reach him, I haven’t a clue where he is so if you could pass it to him I would be thankful. My friend, hopefully you are well, I am doing quite fine, I can’t address what happened to me or why I disappeared, that is for another letter. How are things? Must be a lot of things we can address in the future, perhaps over a cup of tea, you always told me those were for serious talks. Until then and when I am ready, this will be all until I send a letter back. You mustn’t send a letter in response or attempt to charm one my may, I prefer my location a secret. So be kind enough to not try for all attempts will fail. Best regards, Malfoy.

Sincerely,

Y.O’C

P.s please make sure Tom personally gets it and only he reads it. 

Tom’s letter read:

Dear Tom,

My dearest, I never intended to leave all those years ago. I intended to stay with you, to love you to my best capability, to perhaps have you round’ my folks home, meet my family, get married, have kids, and grow old together. Our time together was cut short, for reasons I must’n disclose in a letter but in person. I will explain it all if you will let me. I know what you have done yet I still love you as much as the last day I had in your presence, I ask that you give me a chance to explain. You don’t have to but I wish to at least explain, in case I get my Tom back to me or atleast get closure for the both of us. If you are willing to meet me, I ask you don’t be angry with me and you come alone as I will. The location hasn’t been chosen yet, as I haven’t thought of a place but I will send an owl to Abraxas to give to you as I don’t know your location, I trust you will abide by my wishes and wait for my owl. Meet me at 12 pm on June 16, location will be owled at a later date. I love you Tom, please don’t ever forget it. 

Sincerely yours,

Y.O’C

∞

Sending the letter was half the trouble, the real issue was following through with the meeting. I hoped it would only be me and him but even just the two of us alone had uneased myself. Besides Regulus, no one knew I had gone to meet him and even then he had no idea the date or location of where it was agreed.

On the brisk morning, I apparated to a small secluded area in the English countryside. Walking along the cobblestone steps, slowing up to the dark mahogany doors of the long gone manor I pulled the cloak closer over my head. The grand house succumbed to the vines that began to grow up the sides of the once incredulous architecture. The family home of the Riddles had long gone, becoming an estate, only being in good enough condition to still stand. When preventing Tom from killing his father, his dad started a new family that continued the line. Here I was shivering with the knowledge he would be inside waiting for me, possibly awaiting to kill me but he hadn’t yet so I continued. Pushing the door open, a small squeak of the rusty hinges let out through the air before returning to silence as I closed it behind me. The layout of the house reminded me of the Malfoy Manor, tall doors lining the walls ushering out to separate wings or presumed ballrooms and the giant sturdy staircase lined with oil portraits. I wondered how different he would have turned out if Tom Riddle SR. accepted to raise him, instead of being stuck with the croon Mrs. Cole. 

The farthest door on the left was ajar, the faint light of a fire along with candles were the only indications of another person being here with me. Making sure to pull my hood over my eyes whilst tucking my wand in my pocket I sturdied myself before opting to continue down the hall. Silence hung through the air besides the content click of my boots on the wooden floor, passing a few door frames I made it to the open one. Peering into the room, it appeared to be a study lined with bookshelves filled to the brim with a variety of books. In the center of the room was a lit fireplace in front of a set of couches. The center couch was a dark figure of a man, she knew it was him from the moment she set eyes on his side profile. 

The posture was a give away, along with the book he held in his palms, his diary. His hair was in a tight set of dark brown curls, his skin gleamed with warmth allowing it to dance along his face, his posture was perfect but loose, in his hand opposite to his diary was a cup of firewhiskey, his face was hardly a day older then when you last saw him. Your presence was known but he didn’t glance your way, hiding behind your cloak and the shadows just basking in the way his presence calmed you. Finally closing his book before setting his cup down he spoke “i supposed you would use her as a rouise eventually Albus, such a pity you had to be the first to die in this disgraced house” he twirled his hand before his wand appeared out of thin air.

Glancing up at the doorway, his eyes burned with full fury as he assumed Dumbledore was here. But fearing the worse you spoke softly “Tommy” he instantly froze. 

 “y/n?” his voice shook as you nodded behind shadows of the low pulled hood. “Come on, I know this is a  trick, Dumbledore give up and show yourself” he pointed his wand at you, shaking his anger as he stood up abruptly. Seeing him in person was surreal, you were sure tears were streaming down your face, still hiding in the shadows. “It's me Tom” you spoke, approaching him, faced down as your voice broke. “It can’t be” he said, almost trying to convince himself but in an instant he surged toward you, pinning you to the wall. 

He dug his wand up your jugular where it lay just on top of your pulse point, just as he had so many times in those awful nightmares. His rough palms grabbed your chin, finally lifting it to meet his eager gaze. Tilting it up so far that your hood sunk down, revealing her face to his eager eyes. Standing inches away from his face as he let the shock set it. His breath hitches in his throat, his shoulders tensed before he dropped his wand and pulling you into a tight hug. Nuzzling up into your hair, he caressed your cheek and drank in your appearance as if it was the last thing he got to see. “It's been years, why have you just found me my love” he spoke finally letting his own sobs echo through the air. “why don't you look a day older than when I last saw you?” he mumbled into her hair as he pulled you closer down to his shoulder. You finally broke, “Oh Tom, I missed you so much. I can explain everything I promise just let me hug you”. The experience was surreal, he picked you up to bring you both to the couch. Lying cuddled up, his deep breaths tethered you to reality. He had aged in the past decades, the young boy now grew into an older man. The dark brown hair of his was now parted in the middle with loose curls now framing an older more angular face. His eyes sparkled in a new sheen, the past version you knew was so far away. 

“Can you explain now?” he asked, lifting a hand to rub the hot tears off your cheeks. 

“I will” she said, but now nothing was certain. He had wanted to kill her, but now he hadn’t. He had only wished to when he thought she was Albus, only then was she truly in danger. Now, his aged self comforted the girl in such a scenario no one would have expected. How could she admit the truth, how she existed then only to prevent his own casualties? Could anyone reason to the implication that she loved him to save him, how could he react?

She wanted to greedily enjoy the silence between the both, pretending they had fallen asleep on the Slytherin homeroom’s couch again when they were young. But they weren’t kids anyone, she had lived this year of her life two times already and for Riddle he soaked up the decades away from her, building his power. They had both changed, now they only held ideas of one another but they wanted so badly to fall back in time to before the night their whole worlds paused. 

[sitp-recs]

hi lovely 🤍

can you please rec me some gardener!harry or gardener!draco drarry fics, please! it's a new fixation of mine :)

thank you!!🤍

Hi anon, of course! That’s such a darling trope. I hope you enjoy these 🪴

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