#she just lost her son and was about to lose her husband

[potpourri-of-ecclecticism]

Daily reminder that Aemond Targaryen attempted regicide and fratricide. That’s a death penalty by medieval and modern laws.

And yet the fandom won’t bat an eye because he’s a bUlLiEd kId.

[halflingkima]

i see so many breakdowns about the tragedy of the champion!hawke (you try to save everyone, you will not; you do everything for the people you love, you will lose them anyway; etc etc) but i've never seen a breakdown about the tragedy of bethany hawke. she has all the tragedy of the champion, all the trauma, on top of being a mage and losing all agency for the majority of the story.

i get that a mage!hawke's storyline is similar, but by nature it cannot be exactly bethany's; her tragedy is borne of being the main character's little sister.

[palskippah]

Hi!! Nimona Tangled AU my beloved 🗣️🗣️

Here's drawings of some of the stuff I can remember of the movie woo

Also under the cut are some random thoughts too c:

(Apologies on any mistakes! I tried checking in to make sure that everything was correctly written)

-Save me, PNG of a frying pan.

-By the way, I've only watched the movie (several times) in Spanish, never in English, so not only I am writing what I can actually remember of the dialogue, but also I'm translating it into English djfdk clarifying this in case it feels weird

-I think it was Ambrosius' voice actor who mentioned about the discarded idea of the queen being Ambrosius' mother, but anyways here she is his mother and Ambrosius was stolen from his crib and all that

>Invented Ambrosius a dad called King Something-Something and the guy definitely cried like Rapunzel's dad when him and his wife were getting ready to send floating the first lantern (I swear, that scene is my favorite in the whole movie, it's just so aaa hitting me right in the daddy issues, he was missing his daughter so much)

>Then Queen Valerin wipes the king's tears very tenderly while feeling very melancholic herself, but she doesn't cry because she had accepted long ago that their son was never coming back, but she knows that her husband is still hopeful about it, even if each year he gets disappointed.

-Instead of it being Queen Valerin who was sick, it was Ambrosius who was born as a sickly baby (stealing comic Nimona's lore a bit here sjdkf), and so in all the kingdom they went to look for a cure for his sickness because otherwise they were sure he wouldn't make it.

>Then they find the flower and they give it to him and from then on he becomes a very healthy, robust baby. Also he started quickly growing blond hair with the weeks and they were like ? okay, but he's healthy, so-!

>(It would've been cool to color Ambrosius' tip of his blonde hair brown like his haircolor is supposed to be but I forgor and I'm too lazy to fix it sjdfkjs)

>Anyways the Director thought that she had lost the power of the flower forever since they fed it to the prince, but then she's like :0 bc hey it seems that the powers transferred to the baby. And she's like, well, that works too, and tried to get his hair but it didn't work so she planned on kidnapping him instead.

>Maybe she kidnapped him like when he was a toddler or lil kid under four or very young so he wouldn't remember his parents or anything prince-related, that's why twenty years went by and yet Ambrosius is older than that.

-I'm yet to keep reading rosemary-frog's tangled au fic but the idea of Ballister being Lord Blackheart is really cool and then him probably admitting that his name is just Ballister pipipi when he and Ambrosius are about to drown in that lil cave.

>Maybe Nimona starts narrating the story with something like 'this is the story of how Lord Blackheart/my boss/the villain died' or something very dramatic.

>Maybe he's surname-less and the queen names or knights him Boldheart or something aaa

>Ambrosius starts calling him Ballister and then just Balli wiwiw

-The director sometimes losing her cool and blaming Ambrosius over it (in a, look what you made me do, kinda way) [LIKE THAT THING IN AMPHIBIA SJDKFSJF the king just kills Marcy and is like oh look what you made me do :( ]

>She definitely applies that when she stabs Ballister nearly to the end of the story sdfjs like, look what you caused, Ambrosius, if only you had listened to me.

-Her not naming herself his mother to keep some distance between herself and the queen's kid, so just going along with her director title, since she is still the director in the institute or something, and how is Ambrosius going to know what a director actually is, anyway.

>He tried to call him mom once and she was like (ew) no, it's director, I'm not your mother (maybe he's told his parents abandoned him or tried to use his magic for their own evil benefit, and that's why the director decided to save and protect him, taking him to the tower).

>Ambrosius hasn't known anyone beside her tho, so she allows the occasional hug or gentle treatment. He's very touch-starved.

>She feels nothing for him, he's just useful and at the second of him rebelling she tries to kill him or whatever happened in the tangled movie sjdfkds

>Actually I think Rapunzel's mom wanted to take her away for no one to find them? Maybe the director was just so desperate to not lose Ambrosius' magic that she'd leave everything behind just to get to keep it for herself idk.

>Also she definitely tells him out there are monsters and stuff bc why not, anything to keep Ambrosius fearful of the outside world and keep him in the tower.

-Nimona doesn't like Ambrosius for calling her a monster, then over finding out that he whacked her boss in the head with a frying pan several times, and then for gatekeeping the crown that they stole.

-Nimona starting the Goldie nickname, Ballister following along, and Ambrosius not finding it amusing. Maybe Ballister comments something about having a thing for blondes during the whole thing of him and Ambrosius clearly liking each other (and Ambrosius' like oh?? I am a blond! 😈).

>Later on, after the whole dying and reviving through Ambrosius' tears, Ballister says that he's crazy for brunettes actually and Ambrosius' like :D ??!! because Ballister is alive (and hey, he is a brunette! 😈)

>Btw they definitely flirt in-between their mission of going to see the lanterns, even if Ambrosius isn't all too sure about what he's doing bc he has never flirted with anyone before, he just knows that saying things to Ballister that make the man look almost coy makes his heart go faster, and also of course receiving the flirting from Ballister.

>What if he applies all the stuff he had read in his books or something sjdkfjs he had only ever flirted with the mirror and now he gets to apply it to the very attractive man that is leading him to watch the lanterns sjdfkjf

-Nimona breaks Ballister out of jail exactly like in the Nimona movie and hurts lots of guards and jumps out of the building as it explodes and stuff.

-Since Nimona is sort of using Maximus' place in the movie (and any animal, like Pascal and also that bunny that Rapunzel gets scared of), let's say that the overly competent guard/knight here will have to be Todd and his team sjdkf

>They're after Ballister and Nimona, but since Ambrosius' there too they also chase him (running away from the law as a family, amarite)

-When they're in the lil' cave about to drown, both Nimona and Ballister have to pull Ambrosius out of the water when he keeps trying to push the rocks away, in desperation because how is he going to die this way.

>Nimona's like, Goldie stop! It's useless. Because she tried pounding the rocks in the biggest forms she could use and had to resist turning into a much bigger form in fear of squashing both men. And her smallest forms did nothing because they were completely sealed in, yet she was aware that both men were about to die and she wouldn't. Then Ambrosius turns to Ballister who just gently shakes his head, because it is a lost cause.

>Both Nimona and Ballister see him crying in guilt and stuff and Ballister says his actual name when Ambrosius says, I'm sorry, Nimona, Lord Blackheart-. Ballister admits that he isn't a Lord nor Blackheart, and that he actually has no last name. He's just Ballister.

>I'm not sure what Nimona would admit, like the being lonely thing, the pushing people away, or something to do with their powers? (but I doubt that one), maybe she just watches the other two share their small moment of truths.

>Ambrosius reveals that his hair glows when he sings. And so he does when he realizes that they could use that, and once there's a very small crack revealed by the light where his hair is trying to get out, Nimona puts her whole into using that and she finally manages to push all the stuff away.

-Ballister is like, his hair glows?! and Nimona's like, yeah and I change forms, so what?! a bit offendedly and Ballister's like, oh right.

>(Nimona getting offended on Ambrosius' behalf over Ballister freaking out about his powers/magic, reminding her a bit of when they first met and Ballister freaked out too. But Ambrosius couldn't care less about the guy freaking out, he's way too happy about being alive)

>Then he heals his right hand where he had a cut and all that and the whole talk of stuff.

-Imagine that same night that they have to spend resting, that Nimona and Ballister easily fall into a sleeping position that works to brace them (especially Ballister) against the cold of the night, and Ambrosius just staring with like a smile because isn't it great that those two get to have each other and be so familiar between each other to just do that?

>Then he prepares to lay on his own side to sleep, but Nimona just rolls her eyes and roughly pulls him into their pile, leaving him wrapped on her arms too. And there's Ambrosius and Ballister back-to-back, and Ballister just says 'goodnight' to him and Ambrosius mutters the same back, feeling something like a lump in his throat as he accommodates his head on Nimona's arm like a pillow.

>And Ballister throws Nimona a knowing look, because despite her not liking the blond much, she still felt some clear sympathy for him, both over him admitting that he had never left the tower, and the fact that they were similar somewhat, both had pretty cool powers that confused people.

>And the fact that Ambrosius getting locked into a tower so no one could use his powers was a bit similar to Nimona's situation in a way (if we're going with the comic lore for her)

>(maybe it was Nimona who muttered the 'you've never left the tower' in realization after Ambrosius said almost shyly the 'that's why I've never been out and...' and then he sighed defeatedly and then said the next stuff all resigned, and all that)

-When the whole dancing bit happens in the Kingdom, Ambrosius tries to keep Ballister as close as he can but apparently the dance meant to change partner every once in a while. In the end he forgets about holding his hand and finds that holding anyone's hand while dancing and moving around to the music is just as thrilling.

>But then they end chest to chest anyways and smiling at eachother wiwiw (like the art in this post by unironicallyresurrected waaa)

-Maybe something and something and Ballister loses his arm when the director tried to kill him, some way. Ambrosius' tears only fixed the injury and blood lose but it was already almost completely detached from Ballister's body, so it just laid there jsdfk

>How did he manage to cut Ambrosius' hair I have no idea, don't ask me 😭 maybe Nimona made act of presence at some point, I have no idea where to put her here, I doubt she'd be down after a smack from the Director in the same way it happened to Pascal sdfkj

>(But anyways wouldn't it be cool if she jumped to defend Ambrosius? pipipi is like Eugene and Maximus teaming up but it's Ambrosius and Nimona sdjfks)

-When Ballister and Nimona take Ambrosius with the king and queen, they step back and watch the whole family reunion go by and they're like :) bc hey look at the guy, he's crying his eyes out and hugging like his life depends on it to the queen, but he's happy wouu 🗣️🗣️

>Anyways, the queen's hug is the warmest hug Ambrosius' had ever received (aside from Ballister's), and it's nothing like the Director's and he can't believe he has never been hugged like this in his life.

>Then Queen Valerin pulls Ballister into the hug and encourages Nimona to get in there too but she just shifts into a bigger animal and squeezes them all into a hug.

-Ambrosius gets a better haircut maybe, or maybe he keeps the bob cut I don't know 😭 dfjkj but his hair never grows longer bc the flower's power affected it or something like with Rapunzel.

-I think Ballister would be knighted or something, and then there's Nimona who's just doing her thing of being a little menace and being Ballister's sidekick, and Ambrosius is a good prince and is very happy of finally being outside and getting to know so many people yippiee

>And the director is dust in the air wouu

-Btw the last part in the movie is like this, because I think Ambrosius would say yes the second Ballister asked him to marry him unlike my pal Rapunzel, so- 🤨 also Nimona is the main narrator like in the Nimona movie sjdkf

Nimona (narrating): And so, after years and years of begging and begging and even going to his knees by his feet... Ambrosius: I finally said yes 😌 Ballister: Hey- Ambrosius: Fine, it was me who begged 🧍 Ballister (amused): And so they all lived... Nimona and Ambrosius: Happily ever after. [Happily ever after music and celebration]

>And then there's a drunk guy blowing a kiss to the audience or something 🧍

That's it, thanks if you read till here!

[xetlynn]

REQUESTED

Arcane Imagines- Vander Headcannons

X Piltover reader Headcannons

[arcane] [main page]

When you were a young adult you wandered into the undercity after a fight with your ex boyfriend, finding Vander’s bar and going in since you didn’t have anywhere else to go at the time. Vander, Felicia and Silco were alone there. They stared at you at first so you turned around to leave but Vander welcomed you in. 

Felicia and Silco were weary of you at first. Vander seemed to click with you instantly. Even though you were from the uppercity you seemed to have been through a lot yourself. 

After that night you kept going to see Vander. Talking for hours on end. 

It took some time but you got close with Felicia and Silco as well. 

As you got closer with Vander though, feelings grew and you two were inseparable. You guys started dating 6 months after meeting. He wanted to wait since you had just gotten out of something rough before you met him. You understood and just enjoyed his presence in the beginning. 

A couple months later you decided to move to Zaun, it seemed idiotic to your family but it was more of a home than Piltover ever was to you. You lived with your boyfriend behind the Last Drop. 

When Felicia had Vi and Powder you and Vander were watching them whenever Felicia and her husband ever needed it. Creating a close bond with the two girls. 

You and Vander had a small wedding, the girls as your flower girls. Felicia, her husband, and Benzo were there and that was it. Silco didn’t show due to Vander and him getting into heated arguments deciding to go different ways. 

When the couple passed away Vander and you had taken the girls in, along with Claggor and Mylo after they were orphaned as well. 

You and Vander ran the bar together while also being full time parents. It was a lot of work but so worth it to the both of you. Loving those kids with your whole hearts. 

And when they pulled their stunt in the uppercity it devastated you. Especially because they felt like they had to do that to help Vander and you. 

You reprimanded the children as Vander spoke with Vi who was the head of the operation. You explained to them how that is not okay. And not to worry about adult things since Vander and you had it handled. 

When Vi went to turn herself in and Vander locked her up going to turn himself in, you pleaded with him not to. Not wanting to lose anyone in the situation. Begging that there has to be another way. You and him argued and you stayed home with the children. You went to the bathroom for not even five minutes to cry and when you came out the children were after their father figure. 

When you got there you were too late, the place engulfed in flames. Vi was taken by enforcers, locked up. Powder was gone and you found your husband’s body along with your two sons. 

You were devastated. You lost everything. You lost your lover/best friend. Your children. You found out that Benzo was even killed. When you found that you, you took Ekko in. 

It was hard in the beginning. But you built something amazing with Ekko. The Fireflies. 

<3 Time Skip <3

Finding out Powder was with Silco hurt you beyond belief. You couldn’t believe an old friend didn’t even have the decency that your daughter was alive. You hoped she was alive since you never found her body that night. But she’s not even Powder anymore. 

And when Vi came out of prison, Ekko bumped into her. Attacking her, not knowing if she was working for Silco as well. After that he brought her to see you. The both of you share a huge embrace. Both sobbing, clinging onto one another. 

As time passed and Jinx attacked the Piltover Council. Zaun went deeper into a bad state as Piltover got stricter with the people in the undercity. 

Jinx was wanted. People dyed their hair blue in honor of the girl who defied against the Uppercity. She was nowhere to be found though.

The tree sanctuary was running strong but the tree they depend on was getting sick. Ekko and Heimerdinger decided to figure it out with Jayce’s help. 

You went out some time after that and bumped into Vi along with some large guy. Vi’s hair was now black. The large guy, Loris, explained everything that happened. You were shocked that Vi tried to kill her own sister. You helped Loris with taking care of Vi. She was a mess. 

One day you went home from one of her fights with her and Jinx was in her room. You had to calm Vi down so the two of you could hear her out. 

When she said Vander was alive your heart sank into your stomach. You went with the girls, even meeting Isha. Isha loved you, making you carry her in the tunnels. 

When Vi and Jinx fought you just watched, knowing they needed it out of their systems. Isha went to stop Vi, ending up getting hit. You observed how caring Jinx was with the tiny one. 

Moments later though a beast attacked you and Vi. Jinx was pleading for you to not hurt him. He was Vander. 

Your eyes locked with his mid fight before he attacked you and he immediately stopped his movements. ���[Name]?” He turned to Vi as well. “Violet.” He spoke. 

The two of you embracing him in a hug. Vi told Jinx to join and then you waved to Isha as well. Savoring every moment. 

[seresinhangmanjake]

Hi there! I'm crazy about your stories about Feyd!! Truly brillant!! I've sren your accettino requests...wanted to know if you could a Feyd x reader where they are married and she let him keep the harpies. One day, while Feyd is in a council, reader gets attacked or someone tries to have his way with her and she's saved by the harpies, who kills the man and than take her to their room to care for her, and when Feyd arrives he reward them or something....you choose the endind.

Thankss

Protecting His

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Warnings/Notes: I made it a little bit different, so I hope that's ok. Mention of attempted assault, but it is not detailed. Goes with my His series, but you don't have to read it before reading this. I know this could've been smutty, but idk, the inspiration just didn't take it that route.

Words: 1360

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

“I apologize, my Lady,” the harpy says as she dabs alcohol along the fresh slash on your forehead. “It’ll only be a minute more.”

Your chuckle is a weak breath of air. “You saved me. The last thing you need to do is apologize,” you tell her. 

She briefly pauses her work before continuing. “Our Lord na-Baron will not understand,” she says. 

She’s probably right. Red will be blinding his vision. It’s enough that a guest in your home—an invited guest, a welcomed guest—tried to take advantage of you in a moment when you showed him kindness, but a plethora of additional factors will only heighten your husband’s fury: the fact that you allowed yourself to be alone with another man, even though that was against your intention; the fact that that man touched you and tried to do more; the fact that you’re bleeding because of it; and the fact that Feyd wasn’t the one to protect you, and in his place, one of the harpies was forced to step in. As if they weren’t in enough trouble already. 

He’s been deciding what to do with them for days now, trying to figure out if they have enough use elsewhere to be worth keeping alive, but he’s been coming up short, and you know their fates at the hands of your husband are unlikely to be forgiving. 

They’d been so good for so long, so well-trained after they tried to take a bite out of you—literally—as you slept by Feyd’s side almost a year ago to the day. That act of disobedience cost them each a finger, but from learning their lesson, they eventually became trustworthy enough for Feyd to assign them as your handmaids. And they maintained the position until the unfortunate incident of one of them losing control. 

She tried to take a nibble out of your flesh, and worse, in a moment when you were holding your newborn son. When Feyd learned of this, he lost his mind. Though the harpy acted alone, Feyd banished the three to the other side of the fortress and took the hand of the harpy who tried to have you for her next meal—this harpy. 

You stare at the stump, a bandage replacing where pale, delicate fingers used to be. She’s lost enough. It’s not right that she suffer a lash to the neck simply for being within range of you. It’s not right that Feyd’s rage will have him do the same to the other two. 

“I’ll make him understand,” you promise her as she covers the cut with a strip of tape, and as if on cue, your husband practically blows the door down with the force of a hurricane. 

His eyes land on you and soften with worry at your injured state. They reharden as they find the harpy at your side. “What did she do!” he snaps. 

You quickly rise to your feet, ignoring the dizziness that slightly blurs your vision, and place yourself between him and the harpy. “She saved me.”

He rushes toward her, but with your hands pressing into his chest, you keep him at bay. “She tried to harm you not a week ago!”

“And now she saved me.”

Feyd sucks in a breath through his nose, his shoulders rising and falling, his chest puffing and deflating. His eyes fall to your face. His brow knits as his hands cup your cheeks. He presses a long kiss to your lips, then says, “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” you say. “He would’ve done more if she hadn’t been there.”

“I gave explicit orders—”

“I know,” you intercept. “But would you rather a dead wife?”

It’s a blow. Not a wise one, considering he almost lost you during the birth of your son, but it’s reality. You could’ve died tonight. The man that wanted to hurt you wouldn’t have kept you alive to name him after the fact, whether you’re the na-Baron’s wife or not. He’s much too high-ranking, and without your voice there to reveal his lies, he could’ve pinned the crime on anyone.

Feyd’s hands drop from your face, and during your husband's brief placation, you glance over your shoulder at the harpy. “It’s best you go back to your cell now. A guard will escort you.”

She bows her head. “Yes, my Lady,” she says before she treads lightly around you and your husband to the door. 

Only once she’s gone and Feyd has settled into his seat at the foot of the bed do you say, “Don’t kill her.”

His head snaps up. “You will not tell me what to do.”

“I’m asking.”

“Why?”

You snort. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Feyd crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you teasing me at a time like this? Your life–” His eyelids pinch and he shakes his head. “You could’ve–”

With a sigh, you move to sit beside him on the mattress. “I’m fine,” you tell him. “But you cannot punish her for saving your wife. It’s not right.”

He pauses in his contemplation before he says, “What was she even doing on this side of the fortress?”

“She said she wanted to apologize to me and that you wouldn’t permit it, so she snuck over,” you answer. “You could’ve at least let her do that much.”

“I couldn’t risk it,” he lightly snaps. “I couldn’t risk you and the baby.”

When your hand lands on his forearm, he takes your fingers between his. “And they don’t have to be around us ever again if that’s what you want, but please reconsider hurting them further. They were always kind to me and–”

“Except when they tried to steal you from me to eat,” he reminds you.

“Yes, well, they were more kind than uncontrollably hungry.”

Feyd stares at you long and hard. His thumb rubs back and forth over yours. “You’re serious.”

You give a single decisive nod. “I am.”

—

When Feyd unlocks the cell door and steps inside, two of the harpies skitter across the floor to Feyd’s feet. They paw at the ankles of his pants. One’s head nuzzles the toe of his boot. He pays them little attention, his eyes on the hunt for the one tucked in the corner against the stone wall. She shies away from the blazing ray of his glare. 

“My Lord, we are very sorry for what our sister did,” the first harpy says—the eldest, the tallest of the three. It is most fascinating to see her so low. She tightens her fingers into the pants fabric, but Feyd kicks her off, and her entire body jolts back like a creature freshly injured.

“So very sorry,” the second, who has backed away alongside her sister, mimics.

“Please spare–”

“Hush, I’m not in the mood,” Feyd scolds. 

“Y-You will kill us?”

Feyd finally tears his stare from the huddled harpy to the ones by his feet. “You can pray to the kindness of my wife that I will not be,” he says. “You,” he juts his head back to the other. “You get a reward that I expect you to share with your sisters.”

Her head lifts from where it was resting atop her knees. Her dark eyes widen a touch. 

“A reward?” one of the others says.

“For us?”

Feyd gives a curt nod to the guard behind him, and a moment later, the man who attempted to take you against your will is tossed into the room. Already battered and bruised, he remains face down on the cobblestone flooring. A groan escapes through his lips, but that and the slightly pinkish hue of his skin from whatever blood remains in his veins is all there is as proof of life. 

“A meal,” Feyd says. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

The three glance at the body and then back up at Feyd. He doesn’t say another word as he turns on his heel and signals his guard to relock the cage. He doesn’t look back as the screams begin to echo through the dank halls. He has better things to do, like tending to his wife. It’s been a long day, after all, and she could use the comfort.

[novaursa]

A little bit of angst here, could I get one with cregan and rhaenyras daughter where, after their first child, reader and cregan are having difficulty making a second child. Eventually reader gets pregnant a joyous day for winterfell. As the weeks pass, cregan and reader are frequently spotted by the folk of winterfell sharing tender moments between one another, maybe a kiss to readers belly, maybe cregan almost always has a hand to her stomach etc. one day (maybe cregan is at the wall or on a hunt) reader receives a raven from dragonstone saying Jacaerys is dead. Readers grief overcomes her and she loses the baby. After news reaches cregan about Jace, he rushes home to comfort his wife, knowing she’d be overcome with grief, and he is met with the aftermath. Cregan is filled with grief and anger and a lust for revenge for the person at the hands of the death of his friend, the grief of his wife and the loss of his child.

The Gullet's Price

Requests are closed!

- Summary: The day you received the news about the death of your brother, another life was lost.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The snow fell gently outside the thick stone walls of Winterfell, casting a blanket of white over the sprawling castle. Inside, however, warmth radiated from every hearth. You sat by the window, watching the snowflakes drift lazily in the twilight, your hand absentmindedly resting on your belly. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the distant sound of footsteps from the courtyard below.

It had been months—many long, aching months—since you and Cregan had first tried for a second child. After the birth of your son, the heir to Winterfell, you had both longed for another, but it seemed the gods had been slow to answer your prayers. There had been whispers among the maesters, suggestions of herbs and tonics, but nothing had come of it. Each passing moon only deepened the ache in your heart, and though Cregan never showed it, you could see the worry in his eyes, the way his hand lingered on your shoulder a moment too long, the way he would pull you into his arms as if holding you close could somehow solve what was out of your control.

The door creaked open, and there he stood—Cregan, your husband, lord of Winterfell, with his ever-brooding presence softened by the sight of you. His dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, and his grey eyes—so often stern in the face of duty—softened as they found yours. Without a word, he crossed the room, his boots barely making a sound against the stone floor, and knelt beside you, placing a warm hand on top of yours.

"Still watching the snow, love?" he asked, his voice low and filled with a tenderness reserved only for you.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It reminds me of the first night I spent here. You used to say the snow welcomed me to the North."

Cregan smiled at the memory, his fingers gently entwining with yours. "Aye, and it seems the North has claimed you as one of its own ever since."

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the snow drifting outside, and the fire crackling softly beside you. Then, without warning, Cregan shifted slightly, his free hand coming to rest on your belly—just as it had so many times before, a hopeful gesture, though for so long it had brought neither joy nor comfort.

You looked down at his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch. "Perhaps it's not meant to be," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Perhaps one child is all we were granted."

Cregan's grip tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your dress. "You’ve always been stronger than fate, Y/N. If we are meant to have more children, we will. And if not..." He paused, looking up at you with such intensity that it made your heart skip a beat. "Then we will cherish the family we have."

The sincerity in his words brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away, leaning down to press a kiss to his brow. "I love you, Cregan Stark."

"And I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin of your belly as he spoke. It was such a simple act, but the tenderness of it, the love that radiated from him, made your chest swell with emotion.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next. Winter held the North in its grip, and though life within Winterfell continued as always, there was a quiet hope that lingered between you and Cregan, an unspoken understanding that perhaps, just perhaps, the gods had not forgotten you after all.

Then one morning, as the sun barely crested the horizon, you woke with a strange feeling in your stomach—not pain, but something else. Something new. You lay still for a moment, waiting, your heart pounding in your chest as realization dawned upon you.

"Cregan," you whispered, nudging him awake beside you.

He stirred, groggy from sleep, but the moment his eyes met yours, he was alert. "What is it?"

"I... I think I'm with child," you said, the words feeling foreign and yet so familiar on your tongue.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, Cregan sat up, his hand already moving to your belly as if to confirm what you had just said. His grey eyes were wide with disbelief, and for the first time in what felt like years, there was unrestrained joy in his expression.

"Are you certain?" he asked, though the hope in his voice was undeniable.

You nodded, tears already welling in your eyes. "I'm certain."

The joy that erupted in the days following was like nothing you had ever experienced before. Winterfell, normally so cold and solemn, felt alive with the news of your pregnancy. The people celebrated quietly at first, but soon the halls were filled with laughter and congratulations. The maesters confirmed your suspicions, and Cregan all but swept you into his arms, grinning like a man who had won the greatest battle of his life.

From that day on, it was rare to see you without Cregan by your side. He was never far from you, his hand constantly finding its way to your stomach as if to remind himself—and everyone else—that life was growing within you. The people of Winterfell spoke of it often, how their lord was more tender with you than they had ever seen before. Some swore they saw him press soft kisses to your belly when he thought no one was watching.

You, too, felt the change in him. His protectiveness over you grew tenfold, but so did his tenderness. He would sit with you by the hearth in the evenings, his hand resting on your belly as the fire crackled beside you. "I can't wait to meet our child," he'd say softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder if they'll have your eyes."

"And your stubbornness," you teased, smiling as he chuckled.

Every tender moment between you was a reminder of the love you shared. The people of Winterfell watched with quiet admiration, and as the weeks passed, it became clear that this child—your child—would be born into a house filled with love, protected by both the Starks and Targeryens.

One evening, as the snow began to fall once more, Cregan knelt before you, resting his head against your belly. "Our child will be here soon," he whispered, his voice full of wonder. "And I will love them just as much as I love you."

You smiled down at him, your hand stroking through his dark hair. "I know you will, my love. I know."

The sky was a cold, slate gray, reflecting the heaviness that weighed on your heart. You had been restless all day, your hand unconsciously drifting to your swollen belly as you paced the stone floors of Winterfell. Cregan had gone to the Wall, seeing to matters with the Night's Watch, and while he often left for such duties, his absence felt more pronounced today, leaving you feeling uneasy.

You paused at the window, watching the snow swirl in the bitter northern wind. There had been no ravens for days, no word from Dragonstone, and though you had tried to push away your fears, the growing knot in your stomach told you something was amiss.

And then, it came. The raven. Black wings against the pale sky.

When the maester handed you the scroll, your fingers trembled, sensing the weight of it before your eyes even scanned the words. It was from Dragonstone—your mother’s seal—but it was not her handwriting. The letters blurred as you read them, and the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only the devastating truth in front of you.

Jacaerys is dead.

He had been slain at the Gullet, struck down during a battle with the greens. The words felt unreal, distant, as if they were written for someone else. But no, they were meant for you. Your Jace, your closest friend, your blood, was gone.

A choked sob escaped your lips, your body trembling as the grief hit you all at once. The scroll slipped from your hands and fell to the floor, unnoticed. All you could feel was the crushing weight of loss—the loss of your brother, of someone who had been part of your life for as long as you could remember. The one you had grown up with, laughed with, fought beside. The one who had been by your side during the most difficult moments of your life.

Jace.

You pressed your hand to your belly, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps as the sorrow became overwhelming, twisting inside you like a blade. The baby... your baby. You could feel it—something was wrong. The sharp pain in your abdomen stole your breath, and suddenly the warmth you had cherished, the life growing within you, felt cold. Empty.

"No..." you whispered, stumbling backward as another wave of pain coursed through you. You clutched your stomach, but it was no use. The grief, the heartache—it was too much. You collapsed to the floor, clutching at your belly, the realization sinking in that the life you carried had slipped away, just as Jace had. Gone.

Servants found you there, unconscious and bleeding, their screams echoing through the halls of Winterfell as they rushed to fetch the maesters. But no maester, no amount of care, could undo what had already been done. By the time you awoke, it was too late. You had lost the baby.

When Cregan finally returned, having received word of Jacaerys's death at the Wall, his heart was already heavy with the knowledge of how devastated you would be. He had pushed his horse hard, riding through the night to return to you, knowing you would need him now more than ever.

But nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him.

The moment he stepped through the gates of Winterfell, he knew something was wrong. The air was thick with tension, the usual quiet bustle of the castle replaced with a heavy, oppressive silence. The servants barely met his eyes as they bowed, their faces pale. His chest tightened, fear creeping into his heart as he made his way through the familiar halls.

"Cregan," a voice called softly, and he turned to see the Maester Kennet approaching him with a grave expression. The look on his face confirmed Cregan's worst fears.

"She..." the maester began, his voice shaking slightly. "She lost the child, my lord. It happened shortly after the raven arrived from Dragonstone. The grief—"

Cregan didn’t wait for him to finish. He rushed past the maester, his heart pounding in his chest as he made his way to your chambers. He flung the door open, and there you were, lying in bed, pale and weak, your eyes red from crying. The sight of you like this, broken and devastated, was like a dagger to his heart.

You looked up when you heard the door, and when your eyes met Cregan’s, the dam broke again. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as you whispered, "He’s gone, Cregan... Jace is gone... and... our baby..."

Cregan crossed the room in an instant, gathering you into his arms, holding you as you wept into his chest. His own heart shattered as he held you, feeling the weight of your loss, your grief. He didn’t speak; words wouldn’t help, not now. All he could do was hold you, his strong arms wrapped around you as if he could somehow protect you from the pain you were feeling. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t shield you from this.

Inside, Cregan’s own grief began to twist into something darker—rage. Jacaerys had been his friend, one of the few he could trust in the turbulent world of war and politics. The news of his death was a blow to his own heart, but seeing you like this—broken and empty, having lost not only your brother but your child—it was unbearable.

He clenched his jaw, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. Whoever was responsible for Jacaerys’s death would pay. He would see to it. The rage that simmered in his veins burned hotter with every passing moment.

"I swear to you," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet fury, "whoever is responsible for Jace’s death will pay. I will see to it myself."

You lifted your tear-streaked face to look at him, and for a moment, you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. Cregan was always strong, always steady, but now—now there was something else in him. Something dangerous.

"Cregan," you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. "Don’t... please, don’t go."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing away the tears from your cheek. "I won’t leave you, not now. But justice will be done, Y/N. For Jace, for our child. I promise you."

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace even as the world around you felt cold and desolate. Cregan held you tightly, his mind racing with thoughts of revenge, of the blood that would be spilled in the name of those you had lost.

He would not rest until the one responsible for this pain had paid with their life.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XI. The Accusation (+18, Mature)

gif --- ayo-edebiri

“Ad astra per aspera”

To the stars though difficulties…

Villa…

"I need you to help me to kill Caracalla.”

You stared at Julia's face in astonishment, trying to make sense of what you just heard. Her dark brown eyes were serious, but you noticed something in her expression that you couldn't identify – it was somewhere between fear and unease.

"You came to my house to ask me to help you kill your son? Is that correct?”

“He is no longer my son. Macrinus has made him a mere plaything. He pretty much does whatever he wants. He had his relatives killed, without any hesitation. I can't let him kill Geta too. It's only a matter of time. I can't lose Geta.” She sounded upset when she mentioned him. "I lost everything to Macrinus. First he took my son, then my reputation. My own son won't listen to me, he sent me into exile, which is unacceptable." Her tearful voice suddenly turned serious. "I have no one left to go to but you which Acacius had a hand in this, of course.”

‘What are you sa-?’

"He wiped out my men in Legates. They were my last remaining stronghold. I did everything I could to keep them on my side for all those years. Did he tell you how he killed them? I'm sure he didn't, so as not to startle you."

You took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "My husband doesn't hide anything from me. But even if he did, I'm sure he has his own reasons." You said confidently.

"Sure he has!" she said sarcastically.

She was testing the limits of your patience. "Cease talking nonsense about my husband!" You barked. "Simply say whatever you came to say then take your leave.”

"Fair enough.” She crossed her legs. “Caracalla must die before Macrinus returns to Rome. Before he appoint him as Praetorian prefect (commander of the Imperial Guard)." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure of that he will take action against my sons once he assumes command of the guards. This could potentially lead to him ascending the throne. However, if Caracalla dies, it might weaken Macrinus' position. It would be more feasible to defeat him when Geta is emperor.”

"And you needn't worry about being hidden away in the shadows, as it seems unlikely that Geta will exile you like his brother did? It sounds like you're saving yourself.” She averted her eyes which meant you were right. "But why do you need my help exactly?"

"I believe you care about Geta, don't you? He also cares for you in some way. Perhaps more than you realise.”

“There’s nothing—“

You were about to protest, but she silenced you by raising her hand. “I am his mother, so I know him well and I know you don't wish him dead too. Besides, it would be better for everyone if he rules Rome alone. So Caracalla must die as soon as possible before harms him. You're a medicus, aren't you? You could make a concoction of herbs that will kill him painlessly.”

Her words were sharp, but her gaze was unwavering, declaring that this was the path she had to take. But it was still strange that she said it so easily. It felt wrong.

"I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't have to. It's only a matter of time before he finds out, accuse me of betrayal, and send me back. This is our sole opportunity before Macrinus's return."

‘Our? There is no ‘our’, there is no we. Furthermore, it is not a decision that can be made alone. You present this as an easy solution, but I am a married woman and my husband is a Roman general. What will happen to my husband if your plan fails? Have you ever considered this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Isn't that why you should help me? Once he's dealt with my sons, Macrinus' next target is General Acacius. To get you.” You knew exactly what she meant and she realized that. "I imagine your husband feels very regretful about not taking Macrinus out that night. Because I know he won't let him get away with it.”

You swallowed hard, hating to admit that she was right. Julia smiled, seeming amused by your expression. "Oh, poor Aurelia. It must be tough to be caught between three men. Yet you are fortunate. Even if you were to become a widow one day, there'd be another man waiting for you. Since you're a Roman princess, you're worth a great deal.”

That was the last straw. You felt a rush of anger and stood up abruptly. “Get out of my house now! Leave!” You barked, pointing your finger at the courtyard door. Julia stood up, looking insolent.

“If you truly care about Geta, think about what I said.”

“I said leave!” You shouted, then pointing your finger at her. “I'm warning you, don't you ever speak ill of my husband and don't come to my house again!”

Some of the slaves rushed towards you.

“Domina!”

“Escort Lady Domna outside.” You said sharply.

Julia gave you a stern look and turned away. She raised her hand to stop the slave who was approaching her. Then she left the courtyard. You were still pretty angry and tired, which made your head spin even more. Decima put her arm around you and made you sit on the lectus (couch). She grabbed your feet and gently lifted them, helping you lie down. Norell and Tullia were keeping an eye on you from a distance, looking a bit worried. You looked them with a half smile and told them to get on with their work. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes. Decima took your hand.

"Would you like me to make you some dittany tea (cretan thyme)?" It was an herb that was usually used for relaxation. Decima was from Egypt, so she was familiar with herbal teas. Well, not as familiar as you are, of course.

You looked at her. "Not that, not if I'm..." you said quietly.

"Oh, you're right. Chamomile then?”

"Yes, that's better. Thank you my dear.”

After drinking your chamomile tea, you fell asleep in the courtyard. The slaves were mindful of your need for rest and made every effort to avoid disturbing you. Those who walked towards the courtyard did so as quietly as they could. Then Mau appeared and jumped next to you. However, you were so deeply asleep that you were unaware that she had fallen asleep on your lap. You were suddenly awakened by the sound of a sword being unsheathed and a man shouting. Mau meowed loudly, jumped out of your lap in fright and sought refuge elsewhere.

Seeing Octavius holding his sword to a man's throat who you had never seen before. Opened your eyes in surprise.

���Sir! Have mercy please!” He begged. You noticed some parchment papers and a reed pen in his hand.

You sat up on the couch. “Octavius, what is happening here?”

"My lady, this rat was attempting to draw your likeness without your permission."

You were taken aback. "Can you clarify what you mean by that?”

Decima turned to you. "This man came for the General, but we informed him that he was not present. I then assumed that he had departed. Forgive me, my lady.”

Your eyesbrows rose. “You came to draw my husband?”

The man swallowed. Octavius shook him. “Lady Aurelia asked you a question. Speak, thief!”

You warned him, “Octavius, please put that sword away and allow the man to speak.”

He obeyed. The man stood up ad bowed. “Yes, my lady. Aventine cloth dyers association are paying me to do a mural of General Acacius and the tiger he fought in the arena, my lady.”

“Explain yourself. Why would they do that?” Octavius barked.

“He’s famous, sir, the city, all the Roman citizens likes him. He’s a hero.”

You smiled, and he was indeed a hero to you. You picked up the fallen scrolls and took a moment to examine them. He had painted you so well, even the mau in your lap, which you found quite remarkable.

"But you drew me, his wife," you murmured.

"My lady, allow me to beat this insolent rat to death," Octavius hissed. The man shuddered with fear.

"Please, sir. Leave him alone," you said, a little harshly.

"My lady, forgive me. You were so beautiful when you slept that I was overcome with admiration and wanted to draw your likeness.”

You felt your cheeks flush involuntarily.

“How dare you!” Octavius roared.

“Calm yourself, sir.” You gave Octavius a warning look. You stood up and approached the man. “Please rise.”

The man stood up looking a little ashamed.

“I'll tell my husband you came by. You are well talented, I liked your drawing,” you said, showing him the parchment. “May I keep this?”

He looked at you and gave you a big, warm smile. "It's already yours, my lady. I'm really pleased you think so.

You glanced at Octavius, who seemed to be losing patience. Then you looked at the man. “You may yet leave now.”

The man bowed his head and gave you a shy look, then turned and walked out of the courtyard. Octavius accompanied him outside. You and Decima studied the painting the artist had created. She then enquired as to whether she might bring you something to eat, and with your approval, she departed. It would seem that Mau was hungry when she returned to you, as she rubbed her tail against your leg. She meowed loudly when she saw Norell approaching you a moment later with a tray in her hands.

"Where's Decima? I thought she was supposed to bring the food.

You noticed that Norell's cheeks flushed. "Well, my lady, she had some more work to do in the kitchen."

"Is she all right?"

She nodded, but her freckled cheeks were still red. You grabbed her wrist as her furtive look and tone of voice made you wonder what she was hiding. "Tell me, what's going on?"

"Um, Decima. She took food to Sir Octavius." She averted her eyes from you and smiled in a way that seemed a little evasive. You blinked in surprise and then laughed.

“Oh, well, well,” you said, amused. “When these two have become so close?"

Norell chuckled. "It has been a while now. She often speaks of him."

You giggled. "Where might they be now?"

She turned her head towards the courtyard. “Over there.”

"Perhaps we could go and take a quick look at them," you suggested, with a hint of mischief in your voice.

Norell let out a soft laugh and followed you behind. The slave at the door was about to speak to you but you silenced him by putting your index finger to your lips.

You and Norell peered out of the door, observed Octavius and Decima by the stables, talking, smiling at each other. The slave at the door looked at them from behind you and grinned too.

As you watched them from a distance you recognized a familiar feeling in the way they looked at each other, love.

"My dear Decima," you murmured, sharing her happiness.

Norell sighed deeply. "I hope that one day I will be in love too.”

You heard the other slave sigh and you both looked at him with surprise. He bowed his head shyly.

“Domina? My lady?”

All three of you were startled by Tullia's loud voice. Decima had heard it too, and when she turned her head towards you three. You blushed and hurried inside.

“Tullia! Why are you shouting?” you snapped.

“Oh, forgive me. I thought…”

You and Norell had laughed loudly running towards the other courtyard. Tullia was looking at you, a bit confused. Decima came into the courtyard and made her way towards your voices.

“My lady?” She then looked at Norell in a rather angry way.

“I didn't say anything,” she said, holding up her hands.

"Come now, why are you keeping this from me?" you smiled at her.

Decima blushed.

“You're already sooo obvious.” Norell said smugly.

“What did you say?” Decima frowned and approached her and Norell turned around to run away. They ran into the courtyard and you followed. Decima cupped water from the fountain and threw it at her. Norell also did the same. They began to soak each other, laughing together. Norell ran towards you, intending to hide, but as Decima attempted to throw water at her again, the water hit you in the face, and you flinched when you felt the cold water on your skin.

“Gods!” Tulla cried out. She ran towards you. “My lady, are you alright? Look what you've done! Cease this nonsense now!” She yelled at them.

Mau had also got her share of a soaking, licking herself like mad to dry.  Decima and Norell were looking at you with guilty looks on their faces. But you, far from being angry, approached them with a serious expression and cupped the water from the fountain and threw in their faces. And a fun game began between the three of you. Tullia's grunts mixed with your laughter and echoed throughout the courtyard.

By the time the general arrived, you were still engaged in your game. Octavius was observing you at the door, perhaps not fully aware of his surroundings.  Marcus heard the loud, cheerful laughter and dismounted, heading for the courtyard with curiosity. He looked where Octavius was looking and was struck by the difference between this view and the one he saw every time he returned home. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He was at a loss as to how to react. He smiled as he recognized your cheerful laughter. Then he looked at Octavius, who looked like he was stunned.

“What are you looking at?” he yelled.

Octavius startled with his loud voice. “Sir!”

“You may leave Octavius,” he grumbled. How dare he watch my wife? he thought. Well actually he was watching someone else but still.

You all froze when you noticed him. Decima and Norell bowed to him and made their way away from the situation as quickly as they could.

“I'll get you some dry clothes, my lady,” Tullia said and ran out of the courtyard.

How great. They all left you alone with Marcus. He regarded you with interest as he approached. The stone floor was quite wet, as were your dress. You bit your lip, uncertain of his reaction. Fortunately, a smile soon appeared on his face, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"I must apologise for not realising your arrival."

"No need to apologise, my love. There is nothing quite like coming home and hearing your cheerful laugh, which is music to my ears."

You had a sudden sneeze. It wasn't the most romantic answer. Marcus chuckled. “My Lady. You’re all soaked."

Before long, Tullia appeared with a clean dress and the cotton cloth to drying yourself. "If I may, my lady-“

“Give that to me.” Marcus kindly took the cloth from her hand and wrapped it around you. Upon seeing your feet, you instinctively drew them back, as if to hide them. You hadn't realised how wet they were. He smiled and gently took you in his arms, which made your cheeks flush. After all, Tullia was following you behind, carrying your dry clothes in her hands.

Your hand was touching the golden-edged leather strips on his shoulder. Playing with them by running your fingers between each strip. He smiled in response. Once you had entered the room, Marcus set you down. Tullia then placed the dry clothes she had brought for you on the bed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

"Allow me," you said as you reached for Marcus' armour, but he gently pushed your hands back.

"You first. I do love seeing you like this, but I'm afraid you might catch a chill." His eyes were roaming over your body.

You held his hands and placed them around your waist. “Maybe you could warm me up then?” You smiled naughtily.

He smirked and his hands were already undressing you with haste. Once he had removed your belt and your damp stola, his eyes lingered on the tunic that clung to your body. You were now very aware of the reason for the sudden change in his eyes. That his gentle hands would soon become more impetuous. Even before you reached for the holster on his waist, his lips found yours. His hands were trying to remove your long tunic and you were trying to remove his armour, but it was difficult. When your wet tunic fell to the floor and gathered around your feet, Marcus pushed it aside with his foot, never breaking the kiss. You couldn't tell him to take off his armour because your lips were completely captivated by his. Grabbing you by the hips, he picked you up and put you on the edge of bed. You pulled yourself back with all your might, kneeling on the bed. His armour touching your wet and naked body was a little strange, although seductive. Marcus thought you were playing a game, so he tightened his grip on your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss. But as he tried to come towards you, putting his knee on the bed, the sword at his holster hit the edge. He looked down at himself in surprise and laughed.

“I tried to tell you,” you laughed and helped him out of his armour.

“I must have been under your spell, princess.” He grinned.

Once he'd taken off his armour, Marcus grabbed you around the waist and laid you back on the bed. You couldn't believe how excited you became each time, as if it was the first time he'd ever laid you down and positioned himself on top of you. Moreover, how could it be that each touch of his lips to yours felt so different from the other? It really amazed you that such a simple touch could evoke such strong feelings. Perhaps it was the endless blending of pleasures that this strong bond between you bestowed upon you. What a treat, what a magnificent and wonderful feeling. His lips and tongue were exploring every inch of your body as your bodies fit together perfectly, and you enjoyed one pleasure after another. It felt like there was no end to the adventure of exploring each other's bodies and their needs. Every time you encountered a new sensation and a lot of pleasure. Even Marcus, who was an expert lover, found this to be true. Despite his extensive experience, he had never made love to anyone before you, not even once. It was more than a sexual fulfilment. It satisfies his soul too, as he inhales your scent, touches you, tastes you, he feels complete, he feels alive. To him, you were made for him. The moment you got into his heart, everything lost its meaning; you and all the other insignificant things. You were born into his life like the sun into a dark, war-torn, blood-stained, boring, lonely world. You brought him light and purpose. From now on, he would live to serve you, to make you happy, to protect you from all evil. With you by his side, he was more likely to put his duties for Rome second.

“Marcus,” you moaned. He bent his head and kissed your lips, where you said his name. He didn't want to hear his name from anyone else's lips; only you had to say it, the others not allowed. They couldn't say it like you anyway. It wasn't even a possibility.

“What do you wish me to do, my love?” He whispered in your ear. His lips were caressing your earlobe.

You kissed his cheek and pulled his head towards you with your hands in his hair, it was your turn to whisper in his ear. “You know already.”

He grinned, of course he knew. His big hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and quickening his pace. As you moaned in response, he kissed you. Not to silence you, but to feel your beautiful voice within his very own mouth. Soon together you reached the overwhelming end of your pleasure, moaning into his mouth for the one last time. You remained in that intimate position for a while, breathing heavily. Feeling each other's hearts beating against your chests under your palms. Savoring this glorious moment.

The bright sunshine streamed through the window, illuminating the room with a warm glow. The soft breeze from the balcony caressed your still damp hair, causing you to shiver slightly and pull the sheet over your shoulders. When you heard the swallows chirping, you decided to open your eyes. Marcus wasn't with you in the bed. You frowned and sat up.

“Morning my beautiful wife.”

You turned your head towards his voice. Marcus was at his desk, looking pretty busy with a quill pen and some papers.

“Morning.” You gave him a smile. “Did I sleep for too long again?”

“Just a little,” he replied turning his head back down to continue writing something on the paper. You got up and put on your tunic. However, you then felt nauseous again.

“Excuse me,” you said covering your mouth with hand. Hurried out of the room. Marcus put his quill pen down on the table and stood up. He walked out of the room and followed you into the latrina, waiting outside the door.

"Aurelia, my love. I'm rather concerned."

As you stepped out of the latrina, he put his arms around you.

“Maybe I should call for another medicus?’

"I don't think that is necessary," you said as you walked back to the room together.Marcus helped you to sit on the edge of the bed. He crouched down in front of you, his hands gently smoothing your dishevelled hair.

"You said that you might get better if you rested. However, I can see you're still not feeling well." His face showed concern.

"I'm actually feeling better today." You mumbled. It wasn't a complete lie. The nausea wasn't as bad as it had been the day before. You felt you had no complaints, knowing what was causing this feeling. Marcus lifted your chin up with his hand. You didn't want to tell him before you were certain, but he was so concerned. He needed to know.

"I sense you're hiding something from me.”

You looked at him, blinking your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Marcus, I, um. I wasn't sure if I should tell you until I was certain..."

He looked at you from under his eyebrows. "Continue."

You took his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. "I believe I'm with child.”

Marcus froze. His eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilated. Then the most marvellous smile appeared on his face. He kissed your lips, and his heart overflowed with bliss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling towards him. He buried his face between your breasts, then slid it to your belly, planting kisses along the way. You felt his lips on your belly.

"What have I done to deserve you?"

“It might be too early to say for sure. Perhaps we should wait a little longer-“

His lips found yours suddenly. He put his knee on the edge of the bed next to yours and laid you back down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he settled right next to you on the bed. He put one hand on your belly.

“My beautiful Aurelia,” he purred. “I love you, with all my heart and all my soul.” His warm breath caressed your face, your heart blossomed.

“I love you, Marcus. I love you much more than words can ever say.” You touched his cheek with your fingers. “I hope that I am carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

You smiled. “Our child,” you repeated.

He kissed you again, your heart beat with bliss, which soon turns into desire. “I shall spend all my days with you." He said huskily as his hands lifted up the hem of your tunic. “I shall spend all my time making love to you, over and over until our bodies become one.” His lips found yours again and soon turned into a hungry, lustful kiss. As he slid into your shaking body, and you moaned with exultation. This was love. This was blessing. Elysium on Earth.

Over the next few days, you tried a series of tests to find out whether you were carrying a child or not.One of the tests was a common one in Rome and Egypt. All you had to do was urinate in two different bags; one filled with barley and the other with wheat. If the grain in either bag sprouted after being peed on, it meant the woman was definitely with child.As it turned out, they were right. You saw the barley sprouting within a few days, and the wheat took a little longer. Decima said that meant you were carrying a boy. That's how you felt, they said it was a maternal instinct. You never thought of yourself as a mother, at least not this early. But it was indescribable happiness. Marcus was treating you with more tenderness than ever. You were delighted to be the cause of this amazing man having such wonderful feelings. It was a pleasure to see him so cheerful, and the others in the villa were equally pleased to share in his joy.

During this time, Marcus had been closely involved in the training of the soldiers at the Campus Martius (Fields of Mars) just outside the city. Macrinus had been absent for over a week and it was to be expected that he would soon reach Libya. As the general of the army, it was his duty to be prepared for any eventuality and to train his troops accordingly. No matter how busy he was, no matter how late he came home at night, at the end of the day, you found him in bed snuggled between your breasts and legs. You never complained as you wanted him so much as ever thanks to changes of your body that had led to heightened sexual desire.

That morning, when you were helping Marcus put on his armour, you mentioned Julia. It seems she was pretty desperate, even talking to him about Caracalla too.

"Geta is keeping her hidden," Marcus said as he checked the strings on his armbands, "It's likely that Caracalla will eventually find her. She may have a point about Caracalla being prepared to assign Macrinus as Praetorian prefect. However, he will need to return to accept it. I must finish him before he arrives in Rome." He said with determination.

"I suppose he will return soon, then?”

"He must be. I'm waiting for the messenger pigeon to come back. If the legion commander in Libya confirms he's arrived, I'll make the necessary preparations."

You swallowed, feeling concerned by the fact that he was about to fight Macrinus again. Marcus took your face in his hands.

"Please, do not be concerned, my lady. I gave you my word that you won't lose me."

You nodded. "You do what you need to do, my love."

"I will. For you." He put his hand on your belly. "For our child. I will do whatever it takes to make sure he grows up in a safe Rome, and with other Roman children.”

“I am certain you will.” You embraced him and rested your head on his chest, running your fingers through the contours of the medusa.

“Speaking of children,” Marcus said. You lifted your head to look at him.

“Hmm?”

“All the kids at the Poorhouse and the people there.” He murmured.

“I haven't been to visit them in ages. What about them?”

"You don't have to go. Please don't tire yourself out. I want you to stay here and get some rest. Besides, It seems that Geta is already looking after them in your absence."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

"Yes, that does astonish me too. I find it unusual that he would spend his coins on something like that."

"He said he would, but I must admit I didn't expect him to keep his promise."

"You might be right about him. Maybe he could be a better emperor.’ You sensed the sincerity of his tone. "However, I tend to agree with Julia about Caracalla." He said, his face suddenly serious. "Every moment he breathes is detrimental to Rome.”

"Julia almost begged me to poison him."

He was checking his sword carefully. "No, that's treacherous. Even for him. He is an emperor, after all. It must be done honorably."

You felt tense. Or was he planning to act soon? He never mentioned it though.

He put his sword in its holster. "Enough politics, I think." He smiled. "I must take my leave now, my lady.”

For some reason, you felt a sudden sense of unease. "Will you be on duty at the Field of Mars today too?"

"That's correct," he replied after adjusting his armour for the last time. "Please don't engage in any risky things during my absence." He said in a commanding tone.

“I'll be making herbal tea, too dangerous,” you said mockingly.

He gave a little laugh and kissed your temple before leaving the room. As you followed him outside, you realised that the uneasy feeling inside you was getting worse. Maybe it was an unnecessary consequence of your new situation: worrying too much about everything. Marcus looked back at you one last time before heading out. You gave him a smile and then he left.

You made your way downstairs to the girls. You had little chat while they were engaged in weaving the carpet. There wasn't much else to do for the rest of the day, except lie down and rest. You visited Unio to feed her and brush her pearly-white mane with your fingers. Marcus had forbidden you to ride, not until the birth. He'd also told you not to go to the poorhouse, and you'd had to obey him on that one too. In the last few days you had become a little better with your knife and Marcus had admired you for it for the first time. But your overly anxious husband didn't want you to pick it up for a while either. Why did carrying a child have to be so boring?

In the evening, you were feeding Mau. Then you heard footsteps approaching from the courtyard.

"Domina!" The slave boy came running to you. He had that look on his face again, hesitation.

"What is it now?"

"The Emperor." He mumbled.

"Sister!"

You were quite taken aback to see Geta appear out of nowhere. He approached you and embraced you while you stared at him with your mouth hanging open.

“What are you doing here?”

Geta made a face. "Is this the manner in which you choose to greet me?"

"Well, apologies. I am simply astonished."

Geta looked around. "So this is your little house.”

You walked towards courtyard together. "Please have a seat, your majesty," you said, gesturing to him.

All eyes in the villa were on your emperor half-brother, who was seated comfortably on the armchair wearing a crown on his head and an overly flamboyant toga. You requested that the slaves bring you wine and fruit. Geta examined the wine glass and took a sip. As you observed him sitting where his mother had sat days ago, you came to recognise the differences between him and her. They were nothing alike. You were surprised that you had never realised this until now.

"It's been almost weeks, I've missed you a lot." He said suddenly. "How are you feeling now?" He looked you up and down.

"I feel better now, thank you." Your hands involuntarily went to your belly. You were unsure whether you should tell him or not. He was so unpredictable that it was difficult to guess the outcome of saying something like this to him. Perhaps it would be best to wait until your belly gets bigger before sharing.

"My mother," he suddenly said in a serious tone. You looked at him. "She's been here. I know what she told you.”

“You do?”

"As she gets older, her behaviour is getting worse. Don't take her seriously."

"Do you think so? What she said to me is something that should be taken seriously."

"You're right, it's horrible. Caracalla really has gone mad, but her intention of killing him... It's simply not right.”

"Is there something new about his madness?"

"Apart from the fact that became Macrinus' plaything? Well, he won't take me to any meetings anymore. He's got a new toy.”

“How you mean?”

"Macrinus' new right-hand man. He's like his shadow, taking care of things while he's away. I've never met him before, but my brother has already assigned him to the important tasks. I hadn't even been informed about it. Can you believe it?"

You thought about what Marcus said to you about Macrinus' spy. "Could he perhaps be one of the legates?"

"No, he's just come from the north. I don't think anyone knows him, not even the general, your husband."

"If Macrinus hid him like Gaius, I don't think he meant well."

"That's what I thought. You're clever, sister. I've missed talking to you. But not politically, of course." He grinned.

You smiled back. "You're helping your mother to hide from Caracalla, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." He snapped, playing with his glass.

"What if he finds out?"

He shrugged. "That prick sent her without asking me, anyway." Suddenly Geta put his glass on the table and leaned towards you. "Aurelia, he's really out of control. I know Caracalla, always was, but this time it's different. He's hallucinating, dreaming, and that worries me. I know he'll hurt someone else, if not himself. Last time he nearly got me killed, all because of a stupid dream he had."

"Did you say hallucinations?”

He nodded. "I'm certain it's her. Mother. She did this to him. I gave her a clear warning, but she refused to listen. I'm asking you because you're the expert. Is it possible for a herb to have such an effect?"

“Many kinds of plants can do that. But how could Lady Domna possibly poison him?"

"Not directly of course. My slave caught her talking to another slave in the street. She is not aware, but I know everything.” He exhaled deeply. “She should never have come back, she'll get herself killed."

It was something that would endanger not only herself, but everyone including his own son Geta. How could she be so irresponsible? She must be mad for sure just like her son.

"If its on his drink or food, if I can examine it maybe I can help.”

Geta smiled smugly. “That's why I came here.”

He gestured to one of his slaves who was holding a small wooden box. Geta reached the box, opened and took out a vial filled with red liquid and handed it to you.

"Here. This is a sample of the wine he drank yesterday. Will that be enough?"

You took it, uncorked it and sniffed. As you were already highly sensitive to smells, this one smelled completely wrong.

"Yes, I think this would be enough. Let me observe this first.”

"You do that. I must return now. I don't want him to realize I left the palace and came here. He's rather mad and unpredictable more than ever." He stood up and put his hands on your shoulders. "If you happen to find out what it is, send me word. I'll send one of the slaves here. It seems that I can no longer trust my own guards. He is about to place them all under the control of Macrinus' rat."

You nodded. "I will see what I can do, brother."

Suddenly he leaned in, wrapping his arms around you. You tried to pull back, but it was futile.

“Geta,” you hissed. “You should not touch me like this. Please-“

“What's wrong with embracing my sister?” he said arrogantly.

You couldn't help but feel that he was right, but it still felt a little awkward. He laughed at the look on your face and leaned his head down to kiss your cheek. "Take care of yourself, sister. Hope I'll see you soon," he said, with a wink, and left the courtyard with his slaves following him behind.

Campus Martius. (Field of Mars).

General Acacius arrived there after completing his other duties at the barracks. The layout of this place is reminiscent of an army camp, with a number of small buildings.

“Attention! The general is here!” Octavius barked at the soldiers. They immediately stood at attention.

Acacius' eyes were fixed on the recruits. Some of them were pretty clumsy. He jumped down from his horse, squinting at them.

"Chin up! Chest out! Shoulders back! Suck your stomach in!” Octavius commanded, touching their shoulders to ensure they were doing it right. Then he ran to Acacius' side as he approached them. "Sir!" he nodded to him.

"Sir Octavius, these soldiers are struggling to get in line properly! This is how you train them?” he yelled at him.

That's what being a Roman General entailed, after all. Keeping an eye on the rookies and their commanders, supervising his second-in-command, training all the soldiers to keep the army ready for anything, constantly meeting with the Legates to assess the situation. Keeping track of the legions abroad was undoubtedly the hardest task. The army pigeon was the most efficient way to communicate. A trained pigeon could deliver a message in two or three days, whereas a soldier would take months to do the same.

He looked the soldiers in the face as he passed, tapping some on the shoulder to make sure they were properly in line. The soldiers saluted him by putting their hands on their chests. Some of them looked nervous.

“At ease!” Marcus shouted and the soldiers got into a relaxed position to continue their training.

Octavius walked with him towards the building where the Genaral's room was located. Cato was there, waiting for him outside his room. He saluted him.

“Cato, why you are not with the recruits?’’

"Sir, I wanted to let you know that the pigeon has arrived. I have placed it in its cage and I am waiting here to ensure its safety." He said it in a very serious manner.

Octavius chuckled. Marcus grinned.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Marcus asked him. They were both looking at Cato.

“I believe this prick using the bird as an excuse to avoid training.”

Cato opened his eyes wide. “Never, sir!”

"Who gave you permisson to talk back?" Marcus shouted at him. "Now get out of my sight before I train you myself!"

“Yes, sir!”

Marcus and Octavius laughed after he hurriedly picked up his sword and rushed out. "This boy is really...” He murmured.

"He's been working really hard lately," Octavius said, opened the door and waited for Marcus to enter.

“Do you believe so?” He entered the room and sitting down in his chair and putting his sword on the desk.

"I think he's ready for the platoon training. If you agree.”

Marcus opened the lid of the cage and took the small sealed paper tied to the pigeon's foot. "I still don't think he's ready. He must to learn to overcome his hesitation first." The seal belonged to the Eighth Legion. It was stationed in Leptis Magna, a likely place for Macrinus to visit. Marcus lifted the seal and opened the thin paper.

“My dear friend, the esteemed General Acacius. I Caius Drusus commander of eighth legion, salute you! I have dispatched my men to the harbour of Alexandria as you ordered, however both ships that came from Rome brought only armoury and provisions. Sir Macrinus or his men were not among those who disembarked. Also, we have received word of a few men gathering in the Syrian sector, which may be in line with your suspicions. We await your orders. Rome Victrix!”

Marcus crumpled the paper in his fist and squeezed it. Octavius figured it was bad news.

“Sir? What does it say?”

Marcus slammed his hand down hard on the desk, his whole body filled with anger. “Damn you Macrinus!”

Marcus found himself somewhat perplexed. He was certain that Macrinus was on his way to Ostia and that the ship was waiting for him there. But why hadn't he been seen in the harbour? Octavius picked up the paper he had crumpled up and read it with curiosity.

“How can this be?" He put his hands on the desk and looked at him. Or maybe he never actually left? Did he play a trick on us?"

Marcus was mulling it over. Why would he do that? What was he trying to act? He was such a clever enemy that he never gave away his trail. For Marcus, fighting was simple. It was easy to move your sword according to your enemies movement and cut him down. But playing mind games was tough. It was exhausting to think like your enemy, to anticipate his next move, to always try to be one step ahead of him. Especially when the enemy was someone who had the emperor in the palm of his hand. Could he be seeking retaliation? Or had he never left Rome? Marcus exhaled nervously.

“Octavius, I want you to place two men outside the villa.” He ordered, turning to him. “Is Felix still on Palatine Hill?”

"Yes, sir. He's positioned there as you ordered." He'll let me know if anything arises.

Marcus put his hand to his face, closed his eyes and sighed again. “We're missing something, Octavius.”

“What could it be, sir?”

“I'm not certain yet. But I'll find out. Make sure all the men are gathered in our usual place tomorrow night, in incognito. We shall talk over. Now leave me alone.”

“Yes sir,” he said and left the room.

Villa…

You had been studying the wine residue that Geta had brought you for most of the day, with the help of Decima and Norell. Despite making a few mistakes and experiencing a few setbacks, you eventually managed to identify the substance as the fruit of the Red Shanglu plant (Phytolacca acinosa). Given its red colour, it was a logical that it would blend well with wine.

“Why doesn't it kill him immediately?” Decima asked. She shook the vial in her hand.

"It's not a particularly poisonous plant. Or maybe the person who made it is inexperienced with it. However, even the smallest amount could cause brain damage. That's more dangerous than death,” you muttered.”

“What kind of fruit is this? Can we find it around here?” Norell asked.

“No, unfortunately not. It's probably a fruit from China or somewhere nearby.”

“Didn't the Empress come here from Syria?” Decima asked.

“Damascus is frequented by Chinese traders, couldn't she have brought it from there?”

“That is true.” When you were in Egypt,your uncle had purchased a number of plants from traders who came from Damascus to Alexandria. This was not an auspicious sign. It would be very difficult to create an antidote without the plant itself.

“So what are you going to do?” Norell asked.

“I need to to speak with Geta. I must inform him of this."

“But the soldiers outside, won't let you.” Decima murmured.

Right. Two of Marcus's men arrived at noon for some reason. You were certain that if you went with them to Geta, there would be tension between those two again. Moreover, it was already dark, and he must be on his way back.

You opened your small leather notebook to review the notes you had taken earlier and consulted the description of this plant. From what you can gather from your notes, it seems that reversing it is not an option. However, there was another fruit that could potentially help to mitigate and cure it. Acorus gramineus (commonly known as Japanese sweet flag). Of course. How you didn’t think of that? You recalled your Uncle Vicius with respect and found that his teachings had proved useful to you in your life. You promptly rose to your feet and took a moment to survey the shelves. This plant is a common genus used in Rome and other regions. You attempted to reach for the jar at the top of the shelves, but it was out of reach. You rose on tiptoe and reached as far as you could. Before Decima had a chance to get up and come over to help, another hand suddenly appeared and grasped the jar.

"I did warn you not to do anything dangerous, didn't I?” Suddenly Marcus appeared next to you.

You looked at him in surprise. When had he arrived? The girls greeted him and left the room. "Jars are now a source of danger to you, General?" You teased, took the jar from his hand and put it on the table.

Marcus smiled and approached you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He planted a tender kiss on your hair and breathed you in, finding your ear. “I missed you.” Then he kissed your cheeks, your nose and your forehead, making you giggle. Then he turned you to him and kissed you on the lips before you could even open your mouth to answer.

“I missed you too, my handsome husband.”

He chuckled and looked at the vials, herbs on the table. "It looks like you had as busy a day as I did.”

You took a deep breath. “I guess I did."

He put a hand under your chin and turned your head towards him. His eyes were already filled with curiosity. "Something has happened. Tell me."

You put your hands on his shoulders. "Geta was here."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your Emperor half-brother Geta?”

“I know no other Geta,” you laughed. But he didn’t.

““What did he want? Why did he come?” He asked in a rather stern tone. Just hearing his name was enough to make him angry. You place your hands on either side of his face. It had an instant calming effect on him, his expression softened immediately.

“You've just arrived, my love, you must be tired. We can talk while we eat."

You picked up a jar of jasmine from one of the shelves.

"I'll put it in our room, it smells nice and has a calming effect."

Marcus put the jar back and grasped your wrist. "There's no need, my love. Your smell is much nicer, and it's the only thing that can calm me down." He led you out of the room.

Once you had entered the courtyard, you requested that Tullia bring the food and walked to your room. Before heading for the stairs, Marcus stopped when he noticed Octavius and Decima talking.

“Why is he still here?”

You chuckled. He looked at you with questioning eyes. You grabbed his muscular arm. It was your turn to tug. “Come now, leave them be.”

“I now understand why he has been distracted lately.” He grunted as he climbed the stairs with you.

“Please don't be angry with him."

“I'm not. But I need to talk to him later.” He said after entering the room.

Your food was brought into the room while you helped Marcus take off his armor. As usual, Marcus sat you on his lap while eating.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit on your lap when my belly gets so big," you said as he fed you a grape.

“Nonsense. There's plenty of room for both of you on my lap," he said, opening his arms. You tilted your head to the side and snuggled into his chest. "As a matter of fact, I can hold three, four, five, or even more," he added, eating his food. You lifted your head to look at his face. "What are you going to do with so many children, General?" you asked, opening your eyes wide.

“I'm going to raise my own army,” he said, laughing.

You laughed too. “Since you are so lascivious husband, it is quite possible.”

“Is it just me? You are too, my sweet wife.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You made me,” you touched his shoulder with yours.

He bent his head and kissed your shoulder. “Pleasure is all mine, my lady.”

“Well, I didn't say I was grateful.” You teased.

As soon as you said that, he looked at you differently. You locked eyes. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. You were well aware of why his eyes had changed. "Then I'll take you in such a way that you'll be eternally grateful." He bent down and kissed you passionately on the lips. His kiss became more intense as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He put his hands in your hair and drank so deeply from your mouth that you almost forgot how to breathe. But you wanted so desperately that you never wanted him to stop. Even more so now, you wanted him more than you ever had, and he seemed to be quite pleased about it.  Marcus helped you lie back against his arm. He pulled the hem of your tunic up your legs and pulled you back onto his lap. As he slid the straps of the tunic down your shoulders, you could feel him getting impatient under your hips. When his lips slid to your neck, you threw your head back to gasp for air. But then you gasped again as he started to play with your already very sensitive breasts. Just the touch of his warm tongue made you feel like it was going to send you over the edge.

“Hmm your breasts are so responsive than ever my love."

You were sure your cheeks were redder than wine. “It's simply expecting for this phase,” you said breathlessly. Your impatient fingers ran through his hair. You were eager for him to take you now.

“It only adds to your beauty. You are so beautiful to be real,” he said huskily. You kissed his neck in response. He grabbed you by the hips, lifted you up and laid you on the bed. Soon he was on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him to you. Or rather, you tried. He chuckled. “You are very impatient for someone who is not grateful, princess?”

You sighed. “I apologise, I shouldn't have said that. I'm so grateful, please, Marcus.” You squirmed desperately. It was one of your lustful husband's favorite moments. “Please what, my love?” He put his knee between your legs as slowly as he could.

"I want you," you purred.

His lips were on your earlobe, and the feel of his hot breath on your neck made you shudder.

"You want me where?" He teased. His fingers caressed your nipples, his glorious length brushing against your entrance which driving you mad.

"I want you inside me, please," you whimpered.

He smiled wide, like he won a victory. “I shall fulfill my princess’ desire.” And there he was, right where you wanted him most. You felt like you were going to explode with happiness and break into little pieces. You felt proud of yourself for making progress and getting to this point. Now you both knew each other's bodies and desires well. It was a progress you didn't expect from yourself, and it wasn't difficult at all. Everything was easier with him. Desiring him, kissing him, feeling his skin under your fingers – it was like a need for life. You needed him. You needed him inside you, on your skin, in the air you breathed, everywhere. With him, everything was beautiful and complete. Without him, everything was missing and lost. With him, you felt alive.

"I'm afraid I may be a little late tonight,” Marcus said as you tied the strings on his armbands. ”You'll keep your promise, won't you?”

Oh yes, your promise to him. After a lengthy discussion, he agreed to your proposal of preparing the herbal mixture for Caracalla, but he would prefer you to remain at the villa for the time being.

“I've positioned one of my men near Palatine Hill. One of the soldiers waiting outside will deliver it to him. So there's no need for you to go there," he said in a commanding tone.

You nodded. “I shall do whatever my husband says.”

A broad smile spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around you. “Say it again.”

You giggled. “I'll do whatever my husband says.”

“My ears have been blessed.” He pulled you to him and kissed you on the lips. He then sighed breaking the kiss. “I'm afraid I must take my leave now.”

“I know you'll come back to me eventually, so it will be easier to await for your arrival.”

He took your face in his hands. "You will wait my return, then, my lady?"

Of course you will, why did he ask such a question?

“I have waited a long time for you, Aurelia,” he said in his velvet voice. His expression was severe, the brown of his eyes warm, intense. “How could I not come back to you?” He kissed you on the temple. He grabbed a few strands of your hair, burried his nose in them inhaling your scent. You rose on tiptoes and kissed him with all the warmth of a woman in love. And he returned your kiss with all the joy and happiness of a man in love. If only Cato hadn't knocked on the door at that moment, you might have stayed there till night.

Once Marcus had left, you went downstairs to your little clinic-like room to make the herbal mixture. With the help of the girls, you managed to do it in less time than you expected. You did as Marcus told you and handed a vial of the mixture to one of the soldiers who were positioned outside the villa. He mounted his horse and headed to Palatine Hill.

As you sat with the girls until the evening, you found yourself feeling that strange sense of unease you had yesterday. It was just like that dream you had a few weeks ago. No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn't. And it didn't seem to go away until Marcus came back.

It was just after midnight and you were lying in bed playing with your wedding ring. Mau was sleeping peacefully next to you. But unlike her, you were far away from feeling peaceful. You couldn't sleep without seeing him return to you. Soon, however, you heard some horses neighing and murmuring, and your body filled with excitement. You quickly got out of bed. You wrapped your shawl around yourself and left the room, heading for the stairs. But you were halfway up the stairs when you saw the face of a man you didn't know. If you hadn't been holding on to the railing, you would have stumbled. One of the slaves stepped in front of the man, but he pushed him hard. From his clothes, it was clear he was one of the imperial guards. They usually kept their galea on, but not this man. At his command, five or six more soldiers entered the courtyard and all of them stood at attention. They were all dressed like imperial guards. You were wide-eyed, trying to understand what is happening, Decima ran up to you and held your hands nervously. Everyone in the villa woke up to the sounds and rushed to your side.

“You must be Princess Aurelia,” the man said, nodding then smiling weirdly at you. His eyes lingered too long on your body. You felt uncomfortable with the way he looked at you. You pulled your shawl tighter around your body. "Who do you think you are? I will not tolerate you entering my house at this time of night like a raider. I want to know who you are! Speak!"

The man laughed arrogantly. "My name is Flavius, my lady. You do not know me, but your husband does." He took a few steps towards you. "However, even if it's a very tempting idea, I am not here because of Acacius. As for your question, I am here by the command of your brother, the Emperor Caracalla. I shall take you to him."

You were both confused and afraid. "At this time of night? What is so urgent?"

"Oh, true. I forgot to mention the charges against you, forgive me." He smirked, gesturing to one of his men.

The man unfolded the scroll paper to read it aloud. "Princess Aurelia, you are under arrest by the command of the emperor. Your charges are; attempting poisoning of the Emperor himself, conspiracy behind his back, and aiding and abetting the exiled empress."

You swallowed, your heart pounding fast. It seemed likely that the ointment you had sent to Geta must have fallen into Caracalla's hands somehow. "I don't accept these charges! There must be a misunderstanding." you said.

"It doesn't really matter, my lady, I have been instructed to take you to Palatine Hill. And I will." The man came close enough to reach for your arm, but you stepped back.

"Lady Aurelia is the wife of General Acacius and also a princess. When the general returns home, they will go together to the emperor. Perhaps it would be inadvisable to take her by force, sir Flavius?” Tullia said firmly.

They knew each other? You wondered who he was.

”I remember you now. You stood up to me like this back then too. You may have aged but you're still stupid. Get out of my way at once!” Flavius barked.

Wiht Tullia's lead, the slaves and girls moving in front of you as if shielding you. The man sighed and drew his sword.

“No!” you cried.

“The Emperor's orders are final! Get out of my way or I will slay you all with my sword!”

“Do as he says!” You warned them, your voice trembling with fear. They regarded you with an uncertain expression.You held Tullia's hands. "Please, I don't want you to get hurt. I will be fine, I promise."

Then they bowed their heads and, with visible reluctance, withdrewing involuntarily.

You looked at him. “I should dress properly, first,” you said and headed for the room.

“I'm waiting, princess!” He said arrogantly.

How dare he talks to a princess like that? As soon as you walked in the room, immediately grabbed your scabbard and tied it around your ankle. You had to be prepared for anything. You put your hands on your belly, hoping everything would be fine. You put on your stola, look around the room one last time, opened the door and went out. Walked down the stairs, looking at the slaves who looked at you with concern. They were your friends, your family. You smiled at them reassuringly. The man named Flavius held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

You stepped towards outside, choosing to ignore him. Suddenly, you noticed Marcus' soldiers, who were brought to their knees with swords held at their throats by guards. "Put your swords away!" you barked them. But they looked at their commander. Flavius nodded. The men drew back their swords and sheathed them.

"General Acacius has entrusted us with the Lady Aurelia," one of the soldiers said. "We must accompany her.”

Flavius turned to him. "So that's what your General told you, eh? What if I don't let you then?"

The soldier looked at him sharply and drew his sword halfway, the sharp sound of the blade making you tense. "Then we'll have to stop you."

"No, please," you interrupted. You stopped the soldiers by raising your hands.

"My lady, please step aside. The general's orders are certain, and if we die for him, it would be an honour to do so."

Flavius laughed cruelly. “We must give him what he wants then!” He ordered to his soldiers and they all drew their swords once more. You were worried because they were outnumbered. Despite all of your objections, they began to fight. Flavius took hold of your arm and led you towards the carriage.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggled, but he was so strong. "Don't you hear me? I am your princess! You can't touch me!" You shouted at the top of your lungs but it was in vain. He made sure you were seated in the carriage and turned round. After his men killed Marcus' soldiers they mounted their horses at his command. Soon the carriage moved to take you to Palatine Hill. You couldn't stop your tears and sobs as you looked at the soldiers lying lifeless on the ground.

Marcus, where are you? you murmured as you gazed out the window, surveying the dark and gloomy streets.

A place just outside the city…

Marcus and Octavius are waiting in one of the dark streets, which is meant to be a secret meeting place. They're both wearing black cloaks. He had stationed a few of his men at key points in the city to be ready for any move Macrinus might make, and every now and then they hold a small, secret meeting in this gathering place. Secrecy was very important. It had to be late at night because it was an important matter that was only between them. But tonight there was something odd. None of his men showed up. They should have been here by now. Octavius looked down the road but didn't see anyone. They decided to wait a bit more, soon they heard footsteps coming closer. It was one of Marcus's men.

“General! Sir!” The man was out of breath. “Guards. Macrinus.”

Marcus touched his shoulder. “Easy. Breathe.” He told him. “Speak clearly. Why are you on your own?"

"Speak, Aris, what has happened?" Octavius growled.

"The imperial guards arrested all of our men and took them to Palatine Hill."

"On what grounds? What did they say?"

"Have you seen Macrinus there?" Marcus asked.

He shook his head. Suddenly there was the sound of  number of horses approaching towards them and they all tensed up.

"You were followed, you fool!" Octavius hissed.

Guards quickly surrounded and circled around them. One of them looked at Marcus. It was Flavius. “Acacius, It's been too long. Strange night, isn't it?” He jumped down from his horse. Marcus looked at him, astonished.

“Flavius?” He looked him up and down. He recognised his rank by his attire. “So you've been appointed commander of the guards? I thought you were up north.”

So he was the Macrinus' shadow man. He knew exactly what he was doing, Marcus thought.

“I returned a while ago,” he took a step closer to him. “Since I have unfinished business here. With you.” His voice sharpened.

Marcus remained still.

“You killed my brother, remember? You took him from me. And for what? For screwing your wife when you're in the south?”

Marcus clenched his fists. His body was filled with rage. He was dangerously on the edge.

"I've been looking forward to this moment for quite some time, Acacius. I have been waiting for the right moment to take what you have from you when you feel happy.”

Marcus grasped hilt of his sword. Octavius and Aris were ready, waiting for his command.

"So Macrinus made you his commander? Is this how you plan to get revenge on me?"

"He's a very clever man, I'll give him that. And he's determined to finish you, though not as determined as I am." He grinned.

"Right, so how do we do it? One on one? You and I?" Marcus drew his sword to half-length.

Flavius laughed. "You've already lost, Acacius, why should I bother?" He gestured for his man to read the emperor's order. The man unfolded the roll of paper. "General Marcus Acacius! You are under arrest by order of Emperor Caracalla! Your charges are; placing men in front of the emperor's house to spy on him, to command the armies for your own benefit, attempting to murder a member of the senate, abusing the title of general, going behind the emperor's back.”

"Right," said Flavius, coming over to him. He held his gaze. “The Emperor wants to see you. He'll be the one to decide your fate.” He approached him. “Just as he will decide your wife's fate.” He grinned with his teeth.

Marcus grabbed his throat with both hands. “What did you just say?”

The guards half-drew their swords and took up attack positions. Octavius and Aris gripped the hilt of their swords in response.

"Speak, or I'll rip your neck off!" he roared, his fingers gripping his throat tighter. Flavius seemed amused.

"Your wife, Aurelia, is a beautiful woman. I took her from the villa to Palatine Hill. I told you it was a strange night.”

Marcus punched him in the face and kicked him in the stomach, mad him fell to the ground. He then quickly drew his sword. In a flash he leapt on him and held his sharp sword to his neck. “If you say her name again, I'll cut your tongue off!” He barked. “Why did you take her there? Speak, damn you!” He was boiling with anger.

Flavius, however seemed calm. “Don’t be a fool, Acacius, if you kill me now, you'll get nothing. I'm only doing my duty.”

Unfortunately it was true, he could kill him and all the guards one by one, but that would only result in a higher charge being brought against him. Furthermore, Marcus's primary concern was you. He had to make sure you were alright, which meant he had to go to Palatine Hill with them.

Flavius ignored sharp sword pressing against his throat, laughing cruelly at him. “Revenge is a son of a whore, isn't it?”

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[alicentflorent]

The scariest thing about viserys is that he, and men like him, do appear to be harmless on the outside. He’s soft spoken, seems to be a bit clueless and naive, he’s generally nice to people and may even seem like a “family man” but behind closed doors you finally get to see his true colours. He has a violent side but he hides it very well. We don’t see his ugliness very often but when we do his actions are clearly abusive.

Viserys showed aggression multiple times behind closed doors, he was misogynistic in the way he viewed women and yes that includes Rhaenyra who he only really started to indulge to ease his guilt of killing her mother. He used aemma as a broodmare and put her through multiple miscarriages and stillbirths before pregnancy killed her, she was pleading with him not to put her through another pregnancy after this one then when she was dying in childbirth he didn’t even allow her to die with dignity, in the way she wanted to. Publicly, He showed love towards Aemma and cried over her death. He allowed Alicent to have some power by letting her have a seat on the council, only after years of rape and forcing her to become a mother of 4 because he was attracted to her teenage body. Both Rhaenyra and Rhaenys reference Alicent as prisoner of her circumstances in both her early years and late years of marriage. He is shown as a doting father and grandfather to Rhaenyra and her kids but ignores the children he forced Alicent to have. Their son loses an eye and he’s only concerned about “rumours” spread about his grandsons. “Look at me” he screams in the face of 10 year old Aemond who just lost his eye and is in severe pain. Then he moves on to scream in 14 year old aegon’s face. Alicent begs him “please Viserys, he’s your blood” and in this scene it’s important to note that the boys did not incriminate their mother when their father was yelling, trying to incite fear into them, they didn’t want their fathers wrath redirected towards their mother. His favouritism of Rhaenyra overshadows his early treatment of her, ignoring her and underestimating her as a worthy heir until daemon mocked his dead son. He always indulged her and never went back on her being heir. He came off as a loyal, loving father who made his daughter a queen in her own right.

Viserys could have represented a certain type of terrible man, the kind that hides behind his harmless good guy image. The show could have addressed that he is just as bad as his brother daemon but with more self control and enough denial to think of himself as a better man. Deep enough in his own deception to convince us that he was the good brother when he’s just another brand of bad. They could have addressed the damage he did to his wives and children. They could have told the audience that yes you also fell for his act and the deceptive portrayal we gave you because men like viserys will have you fooled in real life. Instead the show, which claimed to be a feminist retelling of martins work made this weak king and horrible man be praised as good husband, father and king. Never allowed his suriviving wife or daughters or even his sons be angry at him or dare to blame him.

[neverenoughmarauders]

Lily's meaningless sacrifice

One thing that irks me is when people suggest that in canon, Lily had any idea that Harry would survive (this is merely a canon post, nothing to do with fanfiction). It irks me, partly because it's just incorrect and that's the sort of person I am. More importantly, however, it irks me because Lily not stepping aside when she had nothing to gain from dying is fundamental to the story.

Let's start with JKR own words from an interview in 2005:

MA: Did she know anything about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry? JKR: No - because as I've tried to make clear in the series, it never happened before. No one ever survived before. And no one, therefore, knew that could happen.

Lily knew nothing about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry. Lily was faced with this choice:

Scenario 1: Steps aside, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 2: Be killed, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 1 is (on the surface) objectively better (unless you're a DE and thus want less muggle-borns around). To Voldemort, it's a simple choice: In both scenarios Harry will die, in one, Lily will survive. In fact, this is what makes a lot of people defend Severus' choice to only ask Voldemort to spare Lily. Severus could not save Harry (and apparently it's totally cool not trying to save others if they bullied you).

Lily could not save Harry.

Lily's choice, as far as she is aware, is not whether to save Harry or not, but whether to save herself. And yet, Lily cannot stand aside. As JKR points out earlier in the interview, what Lily did is not that surprising to us readers ("I don't think any mother would stand aside from their child"). Why? Love. Because, as Dumbledore reminds us on multiple occasions: there are worse things than death - most notably in DH:

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."

Love, and life with and without love is an undercurrent in the story. Lily's sacrifice is meaningless when made, and yet it's the biggest and most understandable expression of love anyone can show someone else. Lily cannot, and does not want to, live in a world where she has witnessed her son being murdered - especially when her husband has been murdered too. A world without Harry and James is no world for Lily Potter.

It is also - bear with me - not that different from what it was like to be in the Order at that time:

[Y]ou weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one...

“He — he was taking over everywhere!” gasped Pettigrew. “Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?”

The Order operated against the odds and were being picked off one by one. As Peter asks - what was there to be gained by refusing him? What was there to be gained from standing (metaphorically or not) in front of Voldemort's victims? I've said this before and I'll say it again, Sirius' answer is powerful:

“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Black, with a terribly fury in his face. “Only innocent lives, Peter!” “You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!” “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black.

Only innocent lives. They weren't fighting this war because they were winning. In fact they were very much losing. But they were fighting because it was right thing to do. Many Order members chose to die, rather than to step aside and let Voldemort take over. Only in their case it didn't make a difference - or at least, it didn't feel like it at the time. Members were murdered, and Voldemort was just getting stronger and stronger.

What was there to be gained by refusing Voldemort?

I firmly believe this is a theme that is repeated throughout the book: not just love and choice, but the obligation to choose what is right, no matter the odds (the irony that this was written by JKR will never be lost on me), and how love is a powerful motivator to do just that. Doing the right thing might seem hopeless in the moment - wasteful even - but that doesn't mean it's not worth doing, or that in the end, it won't add up.

Imagine what Harry felt like at the end of PS/SS when he risked his life to stop Voldemort, only to realise that Voldemort would keep trying to come back:

“Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?” “No, Harry, he has not. (...) Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.”

Harry Potter isn't about doing the right thing because it will bring you rewards, but because it is the right thing.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

This speech doesn't sit well with a few people because it sounds like you're asked to remember what happened to someone who did do the right thing (spoiler: he died). But that's not the point, of course. Cedric wasn't killed for doing the right thing or making a hard choice - Dumbledore asks the students to remember Cedric because the enemy is willing to kill innocent people indiscriminately. Standing aside will not be good enough against people like Voldemort. There is, as Dumbledore put it, a need to keep fighting what seems a losing battle. Why? Only innocent lives.

Both James and Lily die that evening because they are unwilling to let Voldemort near their innocent son as long as there is breath in their bodies. James had no choice (this irks me because he did, he could have run away - he could have not fought Voldemort in the Order to being with. They all had a choice, but not the point). Lily had a choice. And she chose, like many had before her, to fight what seemed like a losing battle. She died, not knowing that she had saved her son. Her sacrifice was meaningless - like so many before her - and yet her sacrifice changed the world.

In the end, by choosing to do what was right, she was granted the wish she most desired: Her son lived.

[divinesolas]

plagued by you is my roman empire!!! I'm so excited for the part two, and would you give a little exploration on how they have come to love each other despite being somewhat enemies?? like I imagine they had a good friendship as children but the division of their house tore it. I. AM. SCREAMING!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

a.n: just a minor little look into their backstory just to fully round out their story, i’ve briefly touched on this during the chapters but i thought it would be better to expand on it a bit 😁 also im so sorry this took so long and im glad you love plauged by you it’s easily one of my all time favs 😭😭

more so alicents pov.

part one part two - masterlist

It is such a shame the one beautiful and thriving friendship between the first born son of rhaenyra and the first born daughter of alicent was torn away by the bad blood between families.

You were innocent friends, who would sneak off together after dinner to the kitchens and steal some cake. Who would walk to dragon practice with. Who's wounds you would clean when he messed up during practice. It all seemed to be going so perfectly between the two of you, so perfectly in fact that when his mother suggested the two of you to be wed it all started to crumble down.

That's when the whispers began, when your mother would sit in your room while combing your hair telling you that the Velaryon boys were not to be trusted. You didn’t understand why and would ignore her warnings, continuing to play with jacaerys.

Until he had begun to pick on aemond. Your sweet younger brother aemond who would come to you crying about some prank the boys pulled on him. You were furious and went to go confront them immediately. Jacaerys apologized the first time and you believed him, but then it continued to happen and you grew angrier and angrier until you could not take it. You realized your mother was right. They were bastards and monster who could not be trusted.

So began your anguish for one another. He grew to find you stuck up and annoying and you believed him to be stupid and selfish. Your mother was overjoyed when you stopped hanging out with the strong boy but she could tell you had lost a sense pf yourself, you were no longer the carefree kid who laughed and smiled at everyone but instead you kept a more serious face and merely nodded at people who would come up to you.

The marriage whispers faded and you mother could not be more pleased. Though it seemed you wanted no husband instead, being flat out rude to most men who would approach you or your mother would set you up with. This infuriated alicent more than you knew, you seemed fine with the prospect of marriage not even a year ago what had happened.

She came to realize she had happened. she was the one who made you not want to marry.

Even blinded in your anger you could not imagine yourself marrying someone who was not him and she knew that. therefore when the driftmark incident happened she thought it to be a blessing in disguise. You loved aemond more than anything and you would finally grow out of this affection you had for jacaerys and marry.

Yet you still did not. You did not even wish to marry aemond, still insistent that despite it being your duty there was still no man good enough for you.

your mother was besides herself when the years continued to pass and you remained unwavering in your decision, she felt sick. You could not see what she could. when she would listen to the way you would rant about him more than she ever did she threw up. Its the way she would rant about rhaenyra.

Then they finally returned to the keep and she feared she would lose you to him. That he would charm you, make you forget about the past and be would put a strong babe in your belly before she could even blink.

Yet when you said nothing to him even as jacaerys fought with aemond she had hope. It was finally over. She had prayed and prayed for this day to come.

And then blinded in her hope she had decided to send you. that it would take one last conversation between you and him to get closure she never got.

Yet you never returned.

When aemond walked through the door your dress in arm she crumbled to her knees and cried. He had won.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 6 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

ooh the "magick" mitzvah? I've been puzzling about the connection between william and billy, that's an interesting detail. I'll elaborate in a minute

I've seen a lot of irony about joe locke clearly not being 13 here, but the thing is, sometimes boys do suddenly hit puberty and have an insane growth spurt! and then you get the hilarious visuals of some guy sitting in a tiny desk in a classroom full of children.

my point being, they should have had joe dancing with a bunch of actual 13 year olds, it would have been so fucking funny

I love mama and papa kaplan, and it really gets to me that they lost their boy and don't even know it. I was worried about billy's episode because I thought it would be just a bunch of marvel tie-ins with no heart. glad to report I was wrong

lilia who hates witch stereotypes performing those very stereotypes in order to not fucking starve

william's reflection is billy reversed

lilia foresees william's death and billy's takeover, and she is SO sorry for him. patti as usual conveys so much, you can tell her heart is breaking but she's being kind and lying in order to not scare this poor kid. and this is exactly why being a Seer has always been a burden to lilia, how do you form any relationships, how do you love someone when you've already seen the day you're going to lose them?

“The Tower Reversed.” disaster, destruction, sudden upheaval. but reversed, it means miraculous transformation.

and there is something about lilia choosing this moment as the most representative for billy, a moment that symbolize both billy and william. this is future!lilia embracing her own strength and reclaiming the coven and the community she denied herself her whole life. and not only she includes billy in it, but also william as a fundamental part of billy, a kid that she protected and cherished despite meeting him only briefly.

not only lilia goes above and beyond for william, hiding the truth from him, inviting him to enjoy the party she knows will be his last. she hides the sigil on him so she can protect billy too, because she knows that another little boy is about to wake up in a strange reality and be so lost. she tells william he's a good egg, but she is the goodest egg.

I love the little choices here. wanda's voice on the radio, pretending she's in an idyllic sitcom marriage. and a real life marriage where wanda's 1950s tropes are reversed, rebecca is the one who drives and grabs her husband's hand to reassure him.

another great detail: the dissolving Hex reflected in the car window.

the parallels are taking my breath away. two moms, agatha and rebecca, fiercely loving and protective. both would blame themselves for their sons dying.

but sometimes, boys die. and to quote jac shaeffer, that is tragedy enough to fill the universe.

you can hear william's heart slow down and stop. then, when billy takes over, it starts beating like crazy.

and here's alice, who's also never met william (or billy) before, but she will unquestionably do her utmost to help.

I miss you so much, alice

he's so scared. the way he shakes his head and doesn't know where to look.

imagine being born yesterday, and suddenly you are in a different body and your head is cracked and you're surrounded by strangers. and your brother is nowhere.

that is the worst omelet I've ever seen in my life by the way

(also I know billy is used to instant growth, but imagine switching from child to teenager just like that, it's like going through puberty in two seconds. kafkaesque nightmare fuel)

and it's just so realistic and so moving that the kaplans are presenting a united front even though they are crumbling underneath. and they won't say any of it out loud because they are good fucking parents and it's their job to protect and worry without their kid ever feeling guilty about it. (billy does end up reading their minds because they're not equipped to parent a superhero yet. not that they wouldn't RAISE TO THE FUCKING CHALLENGE. I love you rebecca and jeff kaplan)

william liked classic movies, board games and magic tricks. there were budding hints at a goth vibe too, with dario argento quotes and creepy victorian posters. it doesn't seem at all incompatible with the person billy will eventually grow up to be, I know he had to settle into william's life, but he didn't revolutionize any of it, he kind of followed in william tracks. I think that yes, william died just as wanda dissolved the hex and it was a wrong place and wrong time kind of situation, but he also had to be a compatible donor - as similar as billy as possible, I don't know if genetically or soul-wise or what. they even look a bit similar, same ears, same nose, same eyes, same chin, same triangular face.

these guys really like doing mirror shots, don't they

by the way I will keep calling him Boyf because it's so damn funny, but I do know his name is eddie and I'm really really happy for the representation. there won't be any particularly deep meta about these two because gay boys are so, so far from my realm of interest or expertise, I'm sorry if you were looking forward to it. if you want to add context or ideas about them please do!

another possibility is that billy's soul, while not having any of wiliam's memories, was still shaped and conditioned by his dna and brain chemistry and past experiences, so in a sense william is still in there. you put software in a different hardware, it's gonna affect its performance.

I'll say this about boyf, he's very sweet. billy gives him this crazy story and he doesn't flinch, he just tries to understand and be supportive.

*cough cough* nerd

but look, he's pulling a detective agnes! he really is an agatha mini me.

ah yes, the future coven looking after billy even before meeting him. lilia giving him the sigil, alice being first responder on the site of the accident, jen saving his dating life by teaching him good skincare (he's a teenager! he's got pimples!)

you guys, I hope you don't mind me dedicating some time to billy alone, but I do like this episode a lot.

and tomorrow: it's the return of butch agatha!

go to episode 6 part 2

[lovecanyon]

Inside Y/N L/N’s Bag | Vogue | Dad!H

MASTERLIST | PATREON

“Hi Vogue I am Y/N L/N and this is what’s in my bag.”

After she introduces herself, Y/N looks down at the bag in her lap. The bag she had used every single day was a personalized Pleasing mesh bag. It was a light pink color and had a blue ribbon tied onto one of the straps.

It was clear that it meant a lot to her.

“What I carry with me everyday is this.” She says grabbing onto her bag. “You can fit anything in here. And the thing about this is, it’s technically Inez’s diaper bag.”

Y/N then grins at the memory of Harry gifting her the tote.

“This specific bag was gifted to me by my husband a while ago, right before he had launched Pleasing. My son actually loves this bag and has one of his own but smaller. He doesn't go anywhere without it.” Y/N shares.

Setting her carrier onto the wooden coffee table in front of her, the Styles woman reaches into her bag and pulls out a bag of candy. Beau's favorite type.

Y/N remembers the night when Harry had got their son addicted to the chocolate minstrels.

“My son is obsessed with these and when I saw them I had to get them for him.” She laughs. “I spoil my kids way too much.”

The next thing Y/N pulled out was her phone. Just a plain iPhone 14 with a case that she had stolen from Harry or borrowed it, so she said. Once she taps on the screen her face lights up.

Her lock screen was a photo of a newborn Inez sleeping on Harry’s chest with Beau right beside them.

She almost shed a tear.

“This is my phone, nothing special until you look at the lock screen.” Y/N grins. She loved her family so deeply.

After placing her phone onto the table, she slides her hand into her carrier pulling out a blue bandanna. It previously belonged to Harry until Inez came around and slid the bandanna off of her father’s head.

It was truly her favorite thing in the world. You could say it was sort of like a safety blanket for her.

“Harry’s bandanna or should I say Inez’s bandanna. That girl loves this thing so much.”

-

A small bag of diapers, bibs, toy trucks, hair clips that she had stole back from Harry, kids sunscreen, Love on Tour’s backstage/V.I.P passes, bandaids, Harry’s headphones, her family’s passports and a camera

“Since we’re currently on tour and always traveling I always have to carry my children’s essentials.” Y/N explains looking at all the items laid out in front of her. “You can never be unprepared.”

Just five years ago her bag was filled with very different items than now. She was now a mother and had a family with a man she’s always wanted to grow old with.

Two kids later and she’s become a changed woman, a better one. She’s always valued the life she had, especially right now. Y/N couldn't have been more happy.

“Another toy!” Y/N laughs, pulling out another toy from her bag. “A mini statue of our dog Kendall who was actually named after Kendall Roy from Succession since Harry is obsessed with that show.” She holds out a miniature dog in her palm.

Following the toy, she slides out a pair of rings that clearly belonged to Harry Styles since they were his initials.

Y/N leans forward and slips the rings into her back pocket. She remembers the last time Harry had lost jewelry. It was at Coachella and he went insane looking for them.

“We are not losing any more rings.”

Comments:

harryfan2 WHEN WAS THEIR WEDDING OMFG?????

harryfan10 best mother in the world truly

harryfan4 harry’s love for succession has me rolling 😭😭

harryfan8 this. is. what. we. needed.

harryfan13 THE LOCK SCREEN

harryfan7 i cannot stress how much i love this video

harryfan5 the literal girl version of harry

harryfan9 harry is finally y/n’s husband 🧎‍♂️

harryfan11 i’m literally crying

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @cherryfragrancx @milkiane @golden-hoax @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia

[queers-gambit]

Confection Invention

prompt: what is a legacy other than what we're remembered for after we die? names are lost, stories altered, family names obsolete, but recipes are forever because cuisine transcends time.

or how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: none? none. seems suspicious.

Sansa Stark, newly crowned Queen in the North, was once a child too small, too scared, too sheltered from the harsh brutality of life's reality. Before she left Winterfell that fateful day, it was well known in the castle that the young girl adored the tasty sweet treat, lemon cakes. A confection of dense cake with lemon shreds mixed in the batter, a lemon glaze poured over, and garnished with a bright and tart lemon slice.

King's Landing was equipped to make the dessert and the young redhead still found pleasure in them, sure, but then shit got real when the Lannisters, you know, murdered her father. Sansa "grew up" and didn't bother with sweet treats after that. They just never tasted the same, and she began to admonish herself whenever she had a hankering; figuring with so much bad in the Realm, her want for cake was inappropriate and misplaced.

After years of turmoil, of losing any and everyone she ever cared for, the night the North declared her Queen of their newly-independent realm, Sansa Stark indulged herself and asked the kitchen staff to send lemon cakes to her room with supper. When her private meal was served, so was her dessert, and Sansa had to ask the servant serving her before they could disappear, "Excuse me?"

"Yes, Your Grace?" The serving maid bowed her head, facing Sansa with clasped hands locked stoically in front of her. Sansa almost cringed when she heard her new title, but refrained from reacting - it would simply just take getting used to.

"Might I ask, how are these made?"

"How what are made, Your Grace?"

"These lemon cakes."

"Oh, uh, I do not know the recipe, but I can ask the kitchens - "

"Well, it's odd, isn't it?"

"What is, Your Grace?"

"I've been all over the Realm," she spoke with an even tone, ever the emotionally-stunted diplomat, "and I've sampled many of these cakes in my lifetime, yet fail to find any real distinction. It's almost as if everyone is following the same recipe."

"Oh, well, I do know that they are, Your Grace."

"They are? All of the kingdoms?"

"Yes, Your Grace, i-it's a rare thing, but yes, the Seven Kingdoms use the same recipe."

"How can that be possible? How do they all get the same recipe?"

The maid glanced at the door nervously, "Uh, I-I do not know, Your Grace."

"You may speak freely, you are in no danger here," Sansa encouraged, gesturing to the only other empty chair at her table. "Please, come sit, indulge me in this tale. I am only curious."

"Well," she turned to shut the chamber door, speaking quietly as if what she was about to say was a secret, "it would depend if you know anything about the Targaryen dynasty, Your Grace."

"Only what was generically taught."

She nodded, taking the seat Sansa offered. "Some 2 centuries ago, there was a great scandal and a great war - one you may know as the Dance of Dragons." Sansa nodded and the maid explained anyway, "You see, it started because King Jaehaerys lost his heirs and was forced to choose between eligible familial candidates. Viserys Targaryen, the King's grandson, and his granddaughter, Viserys' cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Right, I remember the names somewhat."

"The King chose Viserys because, well, he was a man and Rhaenys was only a woman - though, married to a Velaryon, another ancient House hailing from Valyria." Sansa nodded along. "Anyways, uh, King Viserys' first wife was a Targaryen woman who gave him a daughter and then died birthing a son. He remarried a Hightower girl after that and had four other white-haired children; three sons and a daughter."

Sansa nodded slowly as she ate. Nothing like dinner and an entertaining story.

"The second son was Prince Aemond Targaryen, and he had this wife, you see, who was something akin to a saint on soil."

"Nobody's that nice," Sansa snarled in refusal, eyes almost rolling.

"You forget, Your Grace, some 200 years ago, the people never considered rebelling against the Targaryens. Only an arrogant fool would charge a horse at a dragon and think they'd win, so, at the time of this tale, there was no thought to protest the monarchy. Anyways, it wasn't just her kindness that made Aemond Targaryen's wife saint-like. It was all she was, and her most notable work was helping establish, build, organize, and operate orphanages in King's Landing, and then, around the Realm."

"Hmm."

"Well, she worked with those kids and apparently, had an affinity for baking. And because she worked with orphans, when she would take them around to other regions for adoption or placement, she'd leave each kid their own copy of the recipe."

Sansa considered the tale for a moment, then asked, "So, why lemon cakes? Where did they come from?"

The maid smiled.

Aemond Targaryen flinched when he heard something shatter, walking up the hallway alone and only a few strides from his bedchamber. When he opened his door, the One Eyed Prince actually laughed at the sight, "Oh, Gods, are you all right, my love?"

You pouted up at Aemond from the floor, "It was an accident."

"I can tell."

"I really didn't mean to."

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest, "No, no, I can tell by the way only the vase my mother gifted us for our wedding is broken. Never mind you telling me over the weeks how you despise it."

"It was an accident! I really didn't mean to," you sighed, glancing at the shattered vase around you.

"How'd it happen?" Aemond asked softly, moving forward after pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door. "Hmm? C'mere, little love," he bent at the waist to pick you up from the floor, hoist you in his arms, then carry you to the bed. "You all right? You hurt?"

"No...?"

"Show me."

You frowned and showed the shallow cut on the underside of your forearm, informing, "It was an accident, I swear t'the Seven, Aemond. I just tripped on the chair," you pointed to where the sitting furniture was overturned, "and fell into the table. I was replacing the flowers in the vase."

He nodded, "Your cut isn't bad, here, just hold this to it." Your husband pressed a spare cloth to your wound before straightening his spine. "Sit here a moment, I'll clean."

"No, let me - "

"No, no, love, just wait," he chuckled. In the time it took a maid to bring in a broom and dustpan, Aemond had successfully distracted you enough with casual conversation. It was there you discovered a secret you deemed unacceptable. "No, I am not lying, sweet girl," Aemond chuckled, "I've truly never had a cake for my nameday. The idea just seems silly, doesn't it? To celebrate such a common event?"

You scoffed, "We'll come back to your cynicism later. Surely, in your youth, your mother made you cake?"

"Being the second son, you often got overlooked," Aemond shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "I am not missing much, it's just cake."

"'Just cake'!? You say that because you do not know," you pouted. "What kind of a wife am I that I did not know this?"

Aemond laughed, "We've been married all of 3 months."

"It should've come up," your eyes rolled, "or at least in the lifetime of friendship before our betrothal."

"Consider this a learning opportunity between spouses. It isn't a bad thing," Aemond defended, the shattered and scattered ceramic being swept away. "So what, I've not had cake? I am missing nothing."

"It makes me sad."

Aemond laughed as he eyed you for a moment, nodding like he understood something. "You mean to remedy this, don't you?" He asked, showing the maid out of your chambers.

"Of course I do!"

He chuckled, "You know I am not fond of sweets."

"Doesn't matter, I'll find something you like. We can start with the basics, uh... Um... Well, I guess, do you like dense cakes? Fluffier, lighter ones?"

He paused to think, offering, "I like the gooseberry pies served at banquets?"

"Those are dense."

"Hmm, then dense is fine. They're in smaller quantities because they're so heavy."

You nodded, "Any flavors?"

"I am unsure on that front."

"Fruits? C'mon, fruits are usually really good with pastries and cakes."

"You know what I like," Aemond sighed, uncomfortable with the idea of attention for his nameday. "Trust me, love, I cannot make this decision - I just don't know. I am terribly green when it comes to sweets. Even when offered at formal events, you know I'm not interested."

"Well, how about a sampling? I can make you different treats and you tell me which you like."

Aemond chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let this go and agreed, "All right, sure."

And boy, did you keep to your word. The kitchen staff was already used to seeing you on a decently regular basis, but suddenly, you were spending all day in the kitchen, trying out different recipes. You made cakes, cookies, brownies, pastries, all kinds of desserts! You even went a step further, trying out newly invented ideas until narrowing down several options. You were determined to give Aemond something, wanting him to feel your love and effort in the confections because his nameday was the one day you had to pamper and spoil him without complaint.

(Though, trust me, he still complained and deflected attention.)

You loved Aemond's nameday because he had no choice but to be at the forefront of your attention and affection; something his family found amusing after their years of neglect towards him. Every other day of the year, he was stubborn and impossible and made everything about you; but not his nameday!

Even though he truly wasn't a fan of desserts, Aemond still met you on a balcony at the end of the week because not only did he adore making you happy, but he hardly ever said no to you. You had an array of treats made and displayed, and slowly, he sampled what you presented; speaking simply for your mental notes. However, he came upon something new - something he's not seen before.

"What's this?"

"Um, well... See, my younger siblings sometimes like citrus in their desserts, so, I thought this might be good? Or it could be tart - one or the other."

"This is lemon?"

"Yes, and that is made with limes from Volantis," you pointed to another platter, "that one's orange, that one's cherry, and that one has coconut."

"Where did you get coconuts and cherries?"

"That's not important. Which one is your favorite? It's what you're getting for your nameday, so do not lie."

"Pardon my pun, but the lemon cake takes the cake, sweet girl."

Aemond's heart soared in his chest when your grin of pride was hardly contained; looking pleased that you had invented something to his liking - making it all the more special, being something Aemond never has to share with others.

Sansa thought it was a lovely tale, clarifying, "So, when you say she established King's Landing's orphanages, did she use the Crown's money or the tax payer's?"

The maid smiled, "No, Your Grace, she used royal funds. King Viserys commissioned her bakery, and after a bit, the people actually started donating to her cause because the King offered tax exemption for those who donated."

"And she would take the kids around the Seven Kingdoms for placement? By herself? Why? Why not bake full time? She was obviously good at it."

"She was passionate, and the kids couldn't all fit in King's Landing anymore, so, she had to help relocate them for a better quality of life. She also gave each child the recipe so they could have a little taste of 'home' when they wanted."

Sansa nodded slowly. "How did word spread if she only made it for her husband on his nameday?"

"A moment, please," you interrupted your in-laws departure from the dinner table. When Alicent looked you in the eye, you smiled, "I've something for you all to try in honor of Prince Aemond's nameday."

"Oh, love, no," Aemond whispered in embarrassment, "not tonight."

"Would you mind, Mykal?" You asked the kind servant, who nodded once and exited the dining room.

"What's this about?" Otto questioned.

"Well, I thought we just might celebrate for just a moment together," you eased. "What with tensions so high lately, I just figured we deserved something... Sweet."

Alicent's lips twitched, always knowing in her heart that you were too good for Aemond - too good for this wreck of a family. When Mykal returned, he carried a decorated platter of lemon cakes and set it in the middle of the cleared-away table. You stood.

"What are they?" Aegon asked with an unsure curled lip.

"Lemon cakes," you smiled, "a confection of my own invention made especially for my husband, hmm?" You served a small, personal cake to each family member using saucer platters. "Please, just try it - tell me what you think."

You placed the final cake in front of your husband, grinning and taking your seat again. You knew he hated the spotlight, it gave him anxiety; so, you tried to do your best by acknowledging his nameday without needing to fuss over him. He always liked that you two celebrated privately, but being a "special event", the family had dinner together that night and you thought it a great time for the tart dessert to debut. You dwelled in anticipation as your in-laws all tried their cakes, Aemond feeding you every other bite from his fork as there came a chorus of satisfying hums and groans of approval.

"Holy Mother," Otto chuckled, instantly forking another bite in his mouth. "Mh, mh, mh, wow," he smacked his lips, nodding in impression. "You invented this?" He asked, watching you nod. "You invented a new cake..."

"For Aemond's nameday, yes," you confirmed, tone a little sharper than usual in an effort to make your point.

"I gotta admit, Y/N," Aegon spoke with a full mouth, a few crumbs flying, "this is bloody delicious."

"It really is," Alicent agreed, offering her husband a bite. "Viserys? Love? It's a lemon cake, here, try a bite."

"A what?" Viserys wheezed in confusion. "N-Never heard of l-lemon cake."

"They're new," she explained, "Y/N made them for Aemond's nameday. Isn't that special? Try a bite, love, there you go."

Viserys accepted the bit of cake on Alicent's fork, wincing gently at the tart taste before, too, humming. "'S good," he whispered, looking drained of energy.

"Gotta make these more often," Aegon pointed his fork at the cake crumbles left. He continued, "Like, bring these to every banquet we host and this will be the star." You chuckled and put another cake on his plate, it being instantly torn into.

You smiled at Aemond, "Guess they're a hit."

He leaned down to affectionately press his lips to your forehead for a long moment, mumbling, "Knew they would be."

"So, does this mean I can bake you cakes now? Every nameday? You won't complain?" You asked, tangling his hand with yours and relishing in the way he squeezed.

"Oh, he'll still complain," Helaena giggled, licking icing from her finger, "no matter what."

Aemond smirked at his sister, offering a subtly jab at his family, "I would never complain about being loved. Besides," he offered you a fond, softening look, "she does it so well, wouldn't you say?"

The family hummed in agreement, not truly paying attention to his words - all enraptured with scraping their saucer platters clean. You smiled up at him, letting his lips find yours in a brief show of emotion.

Otto mused, "You know, I've heard it said, 'the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes'. I think food is a surefire way to ensure that legacy of love, respect, consideration..."

For the next few weeks, you spent more and more time in the kitchens; whipping out batches of lemon cakes to offer the Keep's staff after rumors spread of your cakey goodness. You gifted guards, trainers, tutors, members of court, maids, the castle's servants the newly invented confection. It quickly became the most talked about topic in King's Landing; the citizens being obsessed with your cake and demanding a taste of their own.

In fact, Viserys was so pleased by the turn of events that on one of his rare good days, he consulted Otto. "A bakery for Y/N - would it be worth the purchase? Do you think the Crown should fund the purchase?"

Otto considered, "Well, since her cakes are the hottest commodity currently, I'd say, yes, Your Grace, it'd be worth exploring as a new revenue for the Crown."

"No, no, not for the Crown t'collect from - leave it for Aemond and Y/N to share. This is not to be a business we collect the profits from - but rather, something they might enjoy." Viserys tried to smile, deciding, "Make it happen, Otto, my friend."

"Your Grace?"

"I want - I want her to have a bakery. Where she might sell her baked goods as she sees fit, not as an extension of the Crown, she deserves it. All her hard work," the King wheezed, coughing violently.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Yet when you were informed about your new business venture and shown the building that was to be your bakery, you told Otto that you didn't bake for money and having your own business would be terribly redundant. Yet Otto insisted that you made your own rules and if you wanted to charge, you could, but Viserys wanted you to have a designated safe space to create in.

Upon the grand opening, you were a SMASH hit. The line in your bakery was nonstop and extended out the door; the Gold Dragons overflowing enough for you to restock your ingredients tenfold AND have leftovers to funnel back into the orphanages. People talked, they spread word and rumor, and most patrons had heard through the "grape vine" that your bakery was well worth any wait. Being so popular, you required extra hours baking and only opened about three days a week because you still had your other job.

Speaking of, you obviously still worked with the orphans; in fact, some of them even came to hang out in the bakery! No, they didn't help bake unless they asked to specifically mix the icing or something, because you didn't believe in exploiting child labor. Anyways, on certain days, you closed the bakery and brought all the cakes to the orphanage to distribute, always having a warm heart when the kids giggled while eating the little sweet treat. It inspired you to write down the recipe you invented and every trip you took to help kids find their placement, you brought them recipe cards.

"Here," you handed the card over to the guardian agreeing to care for the kids, "this is just a recipe for a cake and I promise it's really simple to follow. It'll be a familiar taste to them when living here, somewhere unfamiliar for now." You sniffled, offering a watery smile, "Just wanted them to have a piece of home."

The volunteer guardians were usually grateful, knowing baking these cakes could be a form of bonding between them and the kids. It was difficult trying to get these types of kids to open up after all they endured on the streets before your orphanage took them in. Maybe a little cake would help mend those wounds and assure them, while here, they were safe.

You never expected to live out through history, but while names are lost, stories altered, and family names become obsolete, cuisine is a universally shared experience that transcends time.

Sansa sat for a moment, stewing in the story. Never had she imagined such a history lesson surrounding her favorite dessert; she would've thought some old granny would've been messing around in the kitchens to invent such a treat. Not a Princess of the Realm, especially one belonging to the most fearsome and longest reigning monarchy in Westerosi history.

For a brief moment, she was jealous by the description of your relationship to Prince Aemond; hearing how loving your husband was, how supportive and kind to you. She wondered if she'd ever experience something like that - and if she'd ever meet someone who would take her nameday as seriously as you took your husband's.

"What happened after?" She asked quietly, taking a long sip of her wine. "To the Prince and Princess, I mean?"

The maid shrugged meekly, "Not too long after, the Dance of Dragons started and there was no time or reason to bake anymore. They both perished in the flames of war, unfortunately, becoming victims of the Princess Rhaenyra - Aemond's older half-sister."

"Mh," Sansa nodded, "I've heard of her. Maegor with Tits, they called her."

The maid nodded, finishing, "But, you see, Your Grace, the recipe was already spread around the Realm and to this day, is still being used."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"All that," she stabbed her lemon cake with her fork and lifted the bite to her eye for examination, "just because she loved a man and wanted to give him what he's never had before."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, that is why nameday cakes are now tradition. They say the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes, Your Grace."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[toxinoire]

The craziest thing about Epic is that it didn't need Ody's canon to The Odyssey SA to show that Odysseus has lost his own autonomy anyway.

He embraces his side as "the monster" until you question, is he really? Or did he really have no choice?

Looking at the line of "I am not your kind and gentle husband" makes me think back to Just A Man.

It is shown that Odysseus really hates being soldier. He had no choice but to kill the infant because Zeus told him to. And Troy? If we look at The Iliad, he didn't want to go to war from the beginning. And this is the first real time he loses a part of him; his kindness makes him argue with Zeus, his gentleness makes him willing to raise the boy. But he couldn't defy the King of The Gods.

And then Polites tries to bring those parts back, even unintentionally. But Athena tries to tell him he can't do that--his mentor contributes to losing those aspects of himself.

Next is when Polites dies, and well, that's self explanatory.

Another is when Polyphemus kills some of his crew. Part of his identity is being a captain, a king. He knows how to lead people. But then shit went down and he slowly fails to be captain anymore.

And then Poseidon adds onto making Odysseus lose that side of himself more by killing majority of his men.

Circe's Island made him hold onto the scraps of being a captain he has left in him. But even so, Circe tried to lust him so she could kill him, which itself is bad. Though Circe lets them go, even though Ody was unaware of Circe almost killing him, that itself made him hold onto the husband part of him more. That's what got him out of it.

So the Underworld. He hears the screams of his men, and their last thoughts blaming him. Their last thoughts being "Captain, why would you let the Cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy-" is them blaming Odysseus for their deaths. This makes him lose more of his captain side.

Then he sees Polites, and then his mom. He breaks down again after we last saw him do so in Troy.

And then Tiresias shows him his fate, which he misinterprets. Why? We all know the man is him, but why did he not think it was him? He was holding onto the husband part of him the most, so much that it blinded him.

So here comes song 20.

And in the Thunder Saga, we see him lose more of his gentleness and kindness. He's also barely holding onto being a captain by a thread.

Scylla is the entire explanation.

Mutiny is the last bit of that thread and it finally snapped during Thunder Bringer. He lost his leadership, he's no longer a captain. And quite frankly, it traumatized him so much already.

Calypso's island, though this version makes Calypso naive, she, like Jorge said, is ruthless in her own way. He was trapped. He was probably still holding onto the husband aspect of him subconsciously, as to why he never slept with her. But it was buried pretty deep.

"All I hear are screams" Who's to say he hadn't been hearing this for the past seven years, but that day he was so close to losing to those screams. He lost his side of being a captain, he lost his side of being a friend, he lost his side of being gentle and kind.

So his side as a husband is all he could hold onto anymore in The Vengeance Saga. During Full Speed Ahead, we see his king aspect through the lyric "Ithaca's waiting, my kingdom is waiting" but in Dangerous, he has no more king aspect. It's just him wanting to be home to his family at this point.

And then he loses himself more in Six Hundred Strike, as he lost his last bits of mercy when Poseidon offered him none. All that's left of him is wanting to be with Penelope, and his hopes of finally seeing his son.

The suitors' plans had been horrible. But honestly, he would have killed them anway even if they hadn't planned shit. He lost his patience for threats, he lost his mercy, his gentlessness. He is still cunning, but he's gone. Odysseus, King of Ithaca, is gone. "Old king" He's still king by title, but can he really manage a whole kingdom anymore? Like he used to since he was thirteen?

If it had not been for Penelope, he never would have embraced that he, no matter what, is still just a man, no matter how monstrous. But he lost so much of himself, and he knows. He lost his own autonomy, he lost what he knew of himself.

Finally holding his son and his wife yelling at him made him understand that he's still human, but post Epic/The Odyssey the man is already so traumatized, that he most likely forgot so many things of himself. He lost what made him Odysseus, King of Ithaca, which is a BIG part of him. Odysseus, husband of Penelope, father lof Telemachus, is all that's left of him. While those may be the most important parts of him, he's still traumatized, and only knows of himself as a monster now.

He is, quite frankly, no longer him.

[zaraomarrogers]

Timeless

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger Fem! Reader (Post Endgame, Steve and Reader, both are retired)

Word count: 6574

Warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!) smut, unprotected sex (f rec), piv sex, kissing, making out, ANGST, fluff, mentions of insecurities, mentions of jealousy, lack of communication, Post endgame fix

Flashbacks are in italics'.

A/N: This is my very very late submission for @mercurial-chuckles SMUT-BER fest. This is my first time participating in any contest. This is not beta'd so all mistakes are mine. I'm working on part 2, I can't live with myself if I won't give Steve his happy ending.

@mercurial-chuckles Thankyou for always being so kind and supportive. I appreciate you so much.

Part 1

The smell of freshly baked muffins wafted through the kitchen as Y/n set the breakfast table for her husband and six-year-old son. She heard the soft steps of Liam James Rogers climbing down the stairs as he squealed in excitement and ran into her open arms, “you made muffins, mama...”

“Yes, I did.” She chuckled, peppering kisses on her son’s face. “I pack one muffin in your lunch box as well. I made you an egg sandwich, there’s cheese and cracker and you asked me to put some blueberries, baby finish your lunch, okay?”

“Thank you, mama. You’re the best.” Kissing his forehead, she placed a bowl of cheerio for him on the kitchen island and moved to get her coffee from the counter. She checked the time on her smart watch and shook her head, pouring rest of the coffee in her husband’s travel mug she turned around to holler his name only to found him inches away from her with a smile on his face.

Oh, the way her heart skipped a beat...

Even though his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes, things between them were not exactly great lately, but still her heart yearned for him, for what they used to have.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Steve leaned in and kissed her cheek. He didn’t stay to hear her return his greeting. Dressed in khaki pants and light blue shirt, freshly showered hair and clean-shaven face, Steve looked simply gorgeous. Her heart sank as the unwarranted thoughts made their way in her head again. She saw him eating breakfast with Liam, chatting and laughing with their son and suddenly, she felt like she wasn’t needed there.

Blip wasn’t her fault. She tried her best to prevent it, but it still happened, and she missed five years of Liam’s life, this wasn’t just it... she lost her two best friends, Nat and Tony were more than a family to her. But Steve, she thought she was losing him, slowly, day by day, he was slipping away from her. She couldn’t remember the last time they laughed together, was it before Thanos?

Blinking back the tears she made her way upstairs to their ensuite bathroom. Splashing cold water on her face, she silently sobbed, c’mon Y/n pull yourself together... you were a fucking avenger... get it together...

She kept repeating under her breath, unknowing that Steve saw her running up the stairs and his heart urged him to go after her, but he didn’t. In navy blue silk robe that stopped just an inch above her knee, hair tied in a simple bun, she held the power on all his senses. It took everything in him not to bonk her on that kitchen counter. Gosh, she was his... his best friend, his partner, his wife, his one true love… his all. She possessed his whole world, yet he couldn’t have her the way he wanted. He didn’t even get a chance to tell her how elated he was to have her back in his life. He couldn’t have survived those five agonizing years if Liam James Rogers hadn’t been there. He lived for their son. He had spent every minute of those five infernal years thinking about her, missing her. Liam was just like his mother, her eyes, her hair, her nose and her smile...

“Dad... dad, are you listening?” Liam shook Steve’s hand, pulling him back to the present.

“Yes bubba, did you tell Mrs. Miller that you don’t have a pet?”

“Yes...” Liam pouted, “why can’t we have a pet. All my friends have pets.”

“Morgan does not.”

“She’s getting one.”

Steve sighed, “Okay, I’ll talk to mama... but no promises LJ, only if mama agrees. Also, “He whispered, “if you wana take a round of your cycle before we go to school....”

“Yesss dad, yes yes yes...” Liam joyfully screamed and ran towards the porch.

“Careful LJ, just five minutes buddy.” Steve hollered behind him.

Sighing deeply, he slowly ascended towards their bedroom to check on Y/n and found her standing by the wall sized glass window.

“Watcha doin’ here?” He tried to sound normal, but his voice gave away his concern.

“Oh, just takin’ in the view.” She pointed towards the calmness of the lake surrounded by the huge trees; leaves had started to change color. The mid October air was crisp sending a shiver down her spine. Steve came closer to her, rubbing his hands on her arms he placed a soft kiss on the exposed skin of her neck, breathing in her scent, he kissed the same spot over and over. He couldn’t help himself when it came to her. Gently, he turned her around to face him, cupping her cheeks, he leaned in to capture her lips in his own. It was supposed to be a soft and quick kiss but when she pulled him closer by wrapping her arms around his neck, he tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss. She moaned in his mouth, tasting the muffin and strawberry jam, he had for breakfast, his hands roaming, feeling the softness of her frame. He groaned when she started to walk them towards the bed, squeezing her butt he pulled back placing his head on her forehead.

“Y/n...” he chuckled breathlessly.

“Yeah...” she placed an open mouth kiss on his neck just below the ear, knowing it would drive him crazy.

“Sweetheart... please.” Steve barely whispered, his hand rubbing the globe of her clothed ass.

The absolute need for each other was evident in the kiss they shared moments ago and the sensation that came crashing through their veins was almost invincible.

“LJ has a play date with Morgan after school...” she whispered in his ear, “... I’ll ask Happy to drop him off...” she pulled back little only to see his cerulean eyes already on her, biting her lip she continued, “I’ll make your favorite dinner, just you and me... come home early?” She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything, but all she saw was a distant look in his eyes as if he was thinking of ways to decline her offer politely. She immediately stepped back, out of his embrace, Steve felt the sudden shift, before he could speak Y/n beat him to it.

“... of course, if you’re not busy or... whatever. I understand you have a schedule and...” she walked past him, “... never mind. Just let me know when you’re available.” She didn’t want to sound harsh, but it came out anyway and Steve picked up on that, he spun around on his heels following her to the staircase, taking her hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

“I’ll be home early tonight.” He gave her a smile, “I just wasn’t expecting that you’d ask. It’s been a while since we... you know sit down and have dinner, just the two of us. I was a little taken aback.”

Y/n returned his smile, she wanted to say that was because you were so distant, that you never had time for me – she wanted to say so much but all that came out was, “I’ll be waiting.” That was all she could say before Liam James came in with a scraped knee. After getting comforted by a hug from his mama and putting a Mickey Mouse band aid on his knee, Steve led them out of the house for school not before kissing her on the lips again.

Closing the door behind her, she sighed deeply as her left hand involuntarily moved to touch her slightly swollen lips now, rather than being gleeful she couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in her stomach. Her mind drifted to the day when Steve and her invited Bucky and Sam over for lunch, it was when Sam finally accepted the shield and the title of Captain America, and they decided to have a small get-together at their house. Clint with his family, Wanda, Pepper with Morgan and Happy, Rhodey and Bruce Banner – everyone was there to celebrate Sam. Y/n even made sure to invite Sam’s sister Sarah and her two boys. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon; she was elated to have them all over. The void left by the sacrifice Nat and Tony had made was irreplaceable. It took her six months after the final battle to finally make peace with the loss of her two best friends. And the party gave her a reason to gather everyone and appreciate what was left of the team.

She still couldn’t determine what exactly set Steve off during that party because for two days he kept to himself, fully ignoring her presence and when he did talk to her it was bare minimum. It was her trying to get him to say something, but Steve was way deep in his head. She stopped pushing him after some days, his laconic demeanor made her perceive that he might be missing his old life because Steve had told her after they reversed the snap that he saw Peggy when they time travelled to get the stones. He didn’t go into detail, nor did she ask, the pain of losing Nat and Tony in a short span of time was weighing her down but what Steve didn’t know was that telling her about Peggy had opened a whole can of insecurities in her.

Y/n grew up admiring Peggy Carter. She’d always looked up to her and it was one of the many things about her that made Steve open to her. Until Ultron happened, that was when she silently started resenting Peggy Carter. When Wanda got into her head disclosing the fear that Steve would go back to Peggy. She saw them dancing, called for his name and saw a strange look in his eyes for her… it left her completely torn apart, she couldn’t endure the uncouthness in Steve’s eyes and, with fear came the awareness that she couldn’t see herself without Steve. oh, how utterly and irrevocably in love with Steve she was.

With an aching heart, she started prepping for the dinner tonight, taking out the ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator she struggled to bring a semblance of joy into cooking.

~*~

Steve was a mess. In the entirety of his life, he had never been this scared as he was now. The fear of losing Y/n to his best friend – Bucky Barnes, who was more like a brother to him. It all began at the party – that damned party, he had been cursing the time he had concurred to it cause the moment he saw Y/n laughing out loud at something Bucky had said in her ear, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what took over him – perhaps jealousy, or no he couldn’t be jealous of his best friend, so was it his possessiveness? Yeah, he was possessive of the things he loved, and it was his wife, the love of his life. He had spent five years without her, it was only fair to label the knot in his stomach as acquisitiveness. But it didn’t go away. He put out all the stops to not feel it but as if every time he closed his eyes the scene would flash in slow motion leaving him gasp for air.

Steve knew that he was shutting Y/n out, he knew that he was fracturing one of the touchstones in their relationship by not communicating with her about what had been pestering him. He couldn’t just tell her that he didn’t like it, that he felt like a sixteen-year-old frail, skinny and sickly Steve who couldn’t get the girls, he couldn’t tell her that he was scared that he might lose her again. And she was the only one he couldn’t bow out on. She was the air he breathed. He had told her nth times during their relationship that she was the love of his life, but he couldn’t tell her that in last three weeks when she was in dire need of hearing those sweet words from him.

When Liam started Junior Kindergarten, Steve also began volunteering at his school during lunch hours and one of those days during pickup time he was offered a part time job offer as an art teacher for grade 4 and 5. He was reluctant to accept initially but Natasha pushed him to get a life and do something he used to enjoy. After the battle when everyone came back from the snap, he wanted to quit but when he saw the happiness in Y/n’s eyes upon knowing that he’d been working as an art teacher at their son’s school she told him she couldn’t be prouder of him.

“Dad… would you to talk to mama about having a pet?” Liam shook his forearm gently retreating him back.

“y-yeah! Mama’s called Uncle Happy to pick you up after school. I’ve something to work on… is that okay bubba... and I will talk to your mother, don’t worry about it.” He smiled at his son.

“Ahuh.”

Steve chuckled, grabbing their bags from the back seat, he walked towards the kinder pen with Liam’s hand in his. It’s going to be okay he kept repeating under his breath.

~*~

“Holy shit! Steeeve!” Y/n exclaimed with his mouth full of cheesecake that melted in her mouth. Five months into dating, Steve had brought her down to Brooklyn bridge for their date and they were cozied up in a corner booth of a small diner.

“… this is delicious.” She took another bite of her cheesecake.

“I’m glad you like it.” Steve smiled, looking down at her adoringly. She was licking the spoon.

“I’ve never had a cheesecake this piquant in my entire life. I loved it….” She leaned into him more, resting her head on his chest, his arm came to wrap around her.

“Would you ask them to pack another one for take away as well.”

Steve laughed, kissing her on the forehead, “I already did.”

“What? How’d you know that I’d say it?” She slightly moved to look up at him and gently traced the contours of his face with her thumb.

“Well…” he just shrugged with a smile that made her propped up a bit and placed a kiss on his neck just below his ear. An involuntary growl escaped his lips catching both off guard. Steve’s face reddened, making her smirk grow wider. Avoiding a playful glint in her eyes, he dropped his gaze to his lap and sighed.

“Steve, hey, look at me.” She softly lifted his face towards her and placed her lips onto his pecking him softly. He returned the gesture immediately.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” her soft eyes looking deeply into his blue orbs, “…at least now I know what to do, you know.” She chuckled lightly, trying to ease him up. Intertwining their fingers, she smiled, adoration for him was crystal clear in her eyes and Steve realized that there was no point in holding back. He’d been feeling way too deeply for her for quite some time but seeing into her beautiful eyes, shining with affection for him, he wanted to open to her.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

She was as shocked as he was after blurting out his feelings.

“Say something, please.” He whispered after staring into each other’s eyes for longer than they should have.

“What? Why?” her breath hitched, and she tried to create some distance between them.

“I didn’t mean to scare you… it’s just…” He looked into her eyes again, they were expectant, “… you’re my best friend, Y/n, I don’t have a reason enough to give you as to why I feel what I feel for you. It’s just… my heart fills with happiness when I’m with you, you make me happy.” Steve’s eyes were starting to get moist and so was hers.

“…you give me purpose to be just Steve, not a hero, not an avenger, I’m just me when I’m with you.”

“Steve…” she closed her eyes and in the same moment he pressed his lips on her forehead.

“You don’t have to say anything… It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, and it is also okay if you don’t say it back.” He smiled with teary eyes, “with you, I feel like a twenty-seven-year-old guy who wanted a life, stability, home… a family of his own. This job, and the weight of this title I’ve been carrying around, wouldn’t let me drown in the darkness when you’re with me, Y/n. You’re my daylight!”

He tucked a strand behind her ear, caressing her cheek gently, his smile not leaving his face as if he knew what was going on in her mind. He knew her all too well. Her lips slightly parted, eyes holding disbelief and mind processing his confession – she was breathtakingly gorgeous to him. He knew it was not easy for her to assert her emotions; she had told him before they started dating that falling in love and losing that person was the only thing that scared her the most.

Nick Fury took her under his wing when her parents, also SHIELD agents, were murdered by Hydra. She was only seventeen and had nowhere to go. Her parents left her a hefty amount of money but somehow Tony had influenced her to continue her education at MIT, she was a genius just like her mother. Natasha and Clint became her family, they’d treat her like a younger sibling. Passing their skills on her, she was recruited to Shield at the age of nineteen and She didn’t look back after that, she dealt with her grief by making it her only purpose to avenge the murder of her parents until she met Steve.

She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, they’d finish each other’s sentences. Steve was the first one to make the move, he asked her for something more than a friendship – a relationship. He came clean with what he’d been feeling for her. He told her that he wanted her to be more than a friend, almost freaking her out but the moment he held her hands in his and asked her to trust him and she did. There was something in his cerulean eyes that resolved her stance, and she finally allowed herself to feel all the emotions that had been there in her heart. To her surprise, a flood of all the raw emotions came crashing into her veins and left her speechless. Taking a step forward, she latched her lips onto his in a mind-blowing kiss. Their first kiss.

And snuggled in the corner booth of this small diner in Brooklyn, she was stunned and speechless, no witty or sarcastic response came to her. Heck, she didn’t even know if it was love that she’d been feeling for him. Her heart raced as it dawned on her that this man lounging before the very eyes of her possessed her whole world. Now, she couldn’t envisage herself without him, so she did exactly what she thought was uncomplicated, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. She’d never been good with words, so she poured all her feelings into the kiss. She let him know that she belonged to him and only him.

~*~

Y/n smiled to herself as she set the dining table for the two of them with Steve’s favorite dishes she’d made. Giving one final look to the exquisite spread out, she glanced at her watch and slowly made her way to the ensuite bathroom. After a quick shower she came out in a bath robe and foraged through their closet. She was looking for something comfortable yet alluring but at the same time she wanted to try to look desirable to Steve. It had been almost a month since they’d had sex, the longest they’d gone in normal circumstances. Ever since they’d had sex for the first time, they’d been insatiable for each other. There was a hitch during Steve’s nomad days, at the same time she was pregnant with Liam James, but they still managed to get their way with each other. As she skimmed through her side of the closet, a burgundy cardigan caught her eye, and a bright smile appeared on her lips.

Steve had found her lying on the window alcove in her bedroom. Her eyes were fixed on the screen of her iPad, but a smile appeared on her pretty lips when she heard him coming in.

“There you are.” Steve walked over with a smile and plopped down close to her, placing her feet in his lap. “G’morning, sweetheart!” Steve leaned in pecking her lips softly.

“Mhm… morning Stevie.” She chuckled at his playful frown over his nick name given by her. “How was the run?” she asked with her eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Same…” Steve said, knowing full well that it’d get her attention. She looked up from the screen to see him with a shit eating grin on his face.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Putting away the iPad she launched herself at him, giggling all the while.

“Knew what? I don’t know what you’re taking about.” He asked with faux innocence, as he stretched his arm out to get her accommodated in his side.

“Yeah right! You love getting my attention, Stevie.” She wiggled her eyebrows sprightly.

“That’s because I love you and it’s only fair to have you all for me on quiet day like this.” Honesty in his voice melted her heart and she snuggled into him more as if there was any space left between them. It had only been a couple of days Steve had laid his feelings bare for her and ever since then he had never missed a moment to avow his love for her.

“So, what’s your plan for today? Obviously other than cracking codes…”

A loud gasp escaped her lips in mocked horror as she elbowed him in the ribs, “That’s accusation! I wasn’t doing such a thing.”

He chuckled, “I believe you.” a hint of mirth evident in his voice. She slightly pushed him and got up, but Steve gently pulled her down on his lap, caging her in his arms.

“What’s on your mind, Rogers?” She raised an eyebrow, cheerily.

“You!” He pulled her closer on his lap, so now her core was on his groin. “You’re always on my mind, sweetheart.” Huskiness in his voice sent a chill down her body as her cheeks turned red. Cupping his cheeks softly, she leaned in but just as he closed his eyes and covered the small distance between them, she moved to kiss him on the neck below his ear. Steve groaned and she burst into giggles, “You’re a tease, I see.” Steve chuckled.

“Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?” She shrugged playfully. Squeezing her hips, Steve nipped at the skin of her neck making her squeal. It was his turn to laugh at her now pouted lips. She shifted on his lap connecting their lips in a kiss, but before he could deepen it, she pulled away with a smile.

“That’s what I had in mind.” Steve placed his forehead on hers with a smile that matched hers.

“So, you wana spend the day making out on the window bench…” She moved to place kisses along his jaw and neck, tilting his head he gave her access as she nipped and grazed the sensitive skin of his neck, leaving dark pink marks. Steve felt himself hardening beneath her, he was definitely turned on by her sweet assault but when was he not. The smallest of things she’d do in her day-to-day life turned him on, made him feel like a horny teenager.

“I’d prefer bed, but if you’re comfy in my lap….” She pinched him in the arm making him laugh harder. She jumped off his lap shaking her head at him and walked towards her closet, Steve hot on his heels, held her hand in his and turned her around to face him and connecting their lips the instant she was face to face with him. Deepening the kiss, he scooped her up and walked towards the bed, laying her down gently on the bed, he hovered above her. With the kiss growing more heated, her hand traveled down his back pulling the hem of his white t-shirt, Steve broke the kiss to take the shirt off. Both breathing heavily, as her hands gently roamed the length of his back, the warm and soft skin of her palms made him shudder under her touch. He put his forehead on hers, still panting slightly.

“I love you…” He whispered, ever so softly.

“I want you, Steve…” She looked up at him, clearly surprised at her own boldness. “… I-If only you want it too, obviously.” The nervousness in her voice and the look on her face made him kiss her one more time before he got off her and off the bed and almost jogged towards the door and locked it from inside. She laughed, looking at him amusingly, her eyes raking over, appreciating the muscles and contours of her shirtless boyfriend. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him without shirt, in almost six months of dating they had made out on the couch, on the bed, on the kitchen counter in tower’s kitchen. He had seen her in just her bra, he had kissed and nibbled the skin of her neck and just above her breast leaving the purple marks she had carried so proudly, making sure to subtly flaunt the hickies he gave her whenever and wherever she could.

“You know, its rude to stare.” He smirked as he flopped down by her on the bed, his hand resting on her stomach as he leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead.

“You know, you could’ve asked JARVIS to lock the door.” She teased him.

“Oh!” Steve smiled bashfully, as his hands moved to lightly touch her sides. Oh, he knew that spot would do.

“Steeeve…” she broke into a fit of laughter as he began tickling her softly. In simple leggings and ruffled knit burgundy cardigan, she was stunning, and Steve was having a hard time keeping his hands off her. She laughed and squirmed beneath his touch, placing her hands on his naked chest and lightly pushed him. He stopped immediately and looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and pupil semi dilated, “I want you too, Y/n… been wanting you for quite a while now.” He whispered, lips brushing the crown, her hair pushed back by his long fingers and tucked gently behind her ears. Heat rose to her face as she placed a palm on his cheek, and he moved closer to her, his chest aching with affection.

She studied his eyes, she was always so taken by the blue in his eyes, touched with a little green, if only she knew he was just as taken by all the minor details of her.

“Why didn’t you say it before?” She traced the corner of his lips with her thumb.

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I couldn’t bring my wants before yours, sweetheart.” He smiled, “I wanted you to want me, just as much as I’ve wanted you.”

“Steve…” she mumbled, her eyes moist with the affection and warmth she was feeling in that very moment for him.

“I know, sweetheart, you don’t have to say it, I know.” He connected their lips in a kiss that was just like thunder before a storm. Slow and sultry. Steve moved to hover above her, the kiss crackled like lightning now. Urgent. Consuming. Her soft hands were like fire on his skin, his lips charged on her neck, shoulders and chest. A soft whimper escaped her mouth, and he answered by pressing his need against her tongue and between her thighs. He yanked the hem of her cardigan instead of unbuttoning it, she chuckled at his eagerness and pulled the cardigan over her head. Steve swallowed as he touched her, his big warm hands skating across her skin bringing goosebumps in their wake. She slid her arms around his neck, stared into his eyes and smiled.

“Move your hands up, Steve.”

One eyebrow raising, he did as he was asked, when she nodded for him to keep going. Her cheeks turned crimson when his fingers came to rest at the clasp of her bra, he chuckled quietly, taking hold of the straps and gently yanked it off. Steve let out a long exhale as he stared at her, her eyes slid closed as he moved closer, and a breath caught in her throat.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Y/n nodded, opening her eyes to see him staring down at her ensuring that she was okay. She smiled, lifting her chin and pressed a kiss on his lips. Steve kissed her back eagerly as he let his palm cup her breast. Her hand reached down to undo his belt and then unbutton his jeans. Steve broke the kiss and moved to rest his forehead against hers as he watched her pulling the zipper down.

With a shaky exhale, he connected their lips again and slid his fingers under the waistband of her leggings, he knelt, and she sucked in a breath as he slowly pulled her leggings down, standing up only to push his jeans off, he stepped out of them. He dipped down to press his lips against the center of her chest as she felt him kiss his way down her body. She trembled when she felt his fingers slide under the waistband of her panties, she lifted her hips to help him take them off.

“Sweetheart… breathe.”

She didn’t know she was holding her breath. She nodded, taking Steve’s hand in hers and lacing their fingers.

“Steve, please.” She whispered, kept a tight hold of his hand, a shocked gasp left her when his tongue slipped through her folds, he did it again only for her to whimper. Lifting her one leg to rest on his shoulder, his perfect nose nudging her clit as he continued his ministrations with his tongue. It was all new for him, he hadn’t done it before but her whispered oh my god was encouraging him to do his best. She tugged her hand in his hair, a soft growl rumbled in his chest, his hand moved to gently grasp her breast.

Oh, he loved fondling her breasts.

“Steve.” She moaned, oh that beautiful sound of hers, a gasp escaped her lips when she felt his tongue in her heat. Her hand tightened in his hair and Steve increased his efforts. She groaned loudly when Steve gently pushed one finger into her, and his fingertip brushed across the spot that made her feel every muscle in her body tighten and bliss filled her veins. Steve closed his eyes as her breathy chants of his name warmed his heart and when the euphoric wave of pleasure jolted her body, he gently moved to hover over her again.

Her eyes wide as she stared into his, and all he could see was love. She loved him, she hadn’t said anything yet, but he knew she did.

“You’re so good, you made me feel so good.”

Steve’s eyes widened, eyebrows raising and she felt her cheeks burning when she realized what had come out of her mouth. They both laughed as she took a hold of his face, bringing it down to connect their lips. Steve settled his body on top of hers and she moaned into his mouth, letting her hands travel down his neck, his shoulders and to his waist. She moved her hips, chuckling when Steve groaned.

Breaking the kiss, Steve nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, reveling in her warmth as his hips rubbed against hers. She gasped and he opened his eyes to see her grinning.

“You’re making me wait, Steve.”

“My apologies, ma’am.” His smile matched hers as he sat up to take off his boxers. He kneeled between her legs and caught her eye. She nodded with a shy smile, and he hovered over her, again, her arms wove around him as they kissed, she dug her nails as he started to push inside her. She moaned when he pushed in deeper, his groan mixed with hers when he bottomed out. She broke from the kiss just to breathe; he was pressing gentle kisses to her cheek and forehead until she nodded. He groaned loudly when she clenched around him, shaking his head he hissed softly, “Y/n…”

“Move, Steve! move… you’re torturing me.”

“Eager much, eh!” He laughed and started moving slowly. Her moan radiating through him, “I love you, Y/n. God, I love you so much.” He groaned again as her hips worked to meet his.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

“I adore you.”

Tears came to her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him. Steve increased his thrusts and her orgasm taken her by surprise as much as the first one. Steve groaned as she clenched around him so tightly, he could barely move, as he buried his face in her neck, she came undone breathing his name. A deep moan rumbled up from his chest, his hips stilling as he finished himself inside her.

After a minute or two of rest, Steve shifted slightly, his length no longer hard but still buried inside her.

“Sweetheart?”

No answer.

“You with me, Y/n?”

Still no answer.

Steve pushed himself up on his elbow to check on her, only to see her with tearful eyes. Panic surged into his body as he tried to get up, but she wrapped her legs around him, not letting him move.

“You, okay? Y/n? hey, talk to me, sweetheart. A-are you hurt? Did I hurt you? was it too mu – “

“Stevie, stop!” She scolded him, tugging at his blonde locks gently. “I – I’m… I’m so happy and I’ve never been this happy in the last ten years and it’s because of you. You make me happy, Steve.” her voice wavered, Steve leaned down to kiss on her forehead and let her continue, “… and its not because we’ve just had sex… you’ve always made me feel so full of life, and… I don’t know what I’m trying to say here but you’re so precious to me.”

“Hey, I get what you’re sayin’, I’m here with you, I’ll always be here, sweetheart. I love you and I know you love me too,” he grinned, “I know you won’t say it and I won’t push you either but FYI,” he raised one eyebrow, “I’ve known it for quite some time now.”

She pushed him as if he would budge, and that made Steve laugh out loud, she scowled at him, and he leaned down to capture her lips in his. His hands sliding up and down the side of her body, cupping her breasts as he shifted again, she gasped in his mouth when she felt him hardening inside her, her hand slid down to cup his glorious ass as she gave it a gentle squeeze making him moan in return.

The morning stretched into afternoon, and so was their lovemaking, until Tony sent a search party for them since JARVIS was unable to provide the whereabouts of the love birds. Their blissful cocoon was interrupted by the loud banging on her bedroom door and a warning from Nat to get their asses out of the bed and get to the meeting that was supposed to begin four hours ago before Tony would use one of his Repulsor to bust their door open.

Y/n saw the reflection of her in the mirror and smiled softly. She had put on the same burgundy cardigan with black leggings, her hair in beautiful loose curls, she applied mascara on her lashes and lip gloss on her lips all while humming her favorite song. Her simple casual outfit held the most cherishing memory of their first time having sex together, that day she felt completely healed, he made her whole, made her see a future she always wanted but didn’t know she could have it. Steve kept all the promises he made while loving on her that day, he made all her dreams of living a simple life come true, together they built a life outside of the avenging world, they made this house their home, got married, had a kid; well LJ was a little surprise for both.

She glanced at the clock and made her way downstairs into the kitchen. It was quarter to four and Steve would be there any minute. She poured wine into the glasses and took a seat on of the chairs.

~*~

Steve’s thoughts were a whirlwind – guilt, fear, confusion. He couldn’t focus on anything long enough to make sense of it. Everything felt too big, too much and his mind kept spiraling further out of control.

Why did she plan a dinner for just the two of them?

Did she have to say something?

What if she’d ask for a divorce?

Every time she smiled at him, that familiar warmth in her eyes, a wave of guilt hit him. He wanted to reach out, to tell her everything, but how could he? How could he burden her with the weight of his own mess when she’d done nothing but love him?

His temples throbbed with a dull ache, his neck stiff from the tension that had been building for hours. His stomach churned, not from hunger, but from gnawing anxiety that wouldn’t let go. Every time he tried to focus on the good, positive, his thoughts fractured into more questions, more doubts, until the weight of them seemed to crush him. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as he missed the exit on the highway that would have taken him to her, his home.

He drove further into the city, his eyes darted from the chaos outside. The streets of New York were alive, a pulse that vibrated through the steel and concrete like an electrical current. The car jerked forward, then slowed to a crawl, wedged between two delivery trucks. A taxi honked impatiently behind him, but he couldn’t move—there was nowhere to go. Pedestrians darted between vehicles, their feet tapping on the pavement like a staccato beat to the city’s rhythm. Every turn seemed blocked by a sea of cars, their drivers all fighting for a sliver of space in the concrete jungle. He could feel the pulse of the city in every inch of the traffic, the pressure building as the seconds ticked by.

She twisted the ring on her finger again, the movement mindless but comforting. Over and over, her fingers ran over the smooth metal, grounding her in the chaos of her thoughts. She knew she should face him, talk to him, but the thought of saying the words out loud terrified her. So, she stayed silent, focusing on the small, circular motions instead. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second an unbearable reminder of how much time he was wasting.

[novaursa]

Dragonbane

- Summary: You go to Rook's Rest instead of Rhaenys and the rest is history.

- Paring: male!cousin/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: The reader is a son of Daemon Targaryen and bonded with Vermithor.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for graphic descriptions of blood, gore and death)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @literaturedog

The hall of the Painted Table is quiet, the air heavy with the weight of war and grief. You stand at its center. The carved map of Westeros gleams beneath your hands as you trace a finger over the land your house means to reclaim. Beside you, your wife, Rhaenyra, paces. Her hand twists the golden rings on her fingers, her face a storm of anger and worry.

“Send anyone else,” she says, her voice firm but tinged with desperation. “Anyone but you. My mother lost her life to childbirth, my father lost his life to his weakness, and now… you would have me lose my husband to a battle that isn’t even yours to fight.”

You meet her eyes, the violet flames within them threatening to consume you. “It is my battle,” you reply evenly. “It is ours. Every step they take against us, every insult, every drop of blood spilled — it is all ours to answer. Vermithor is the only dragon alive who can match Vhagar. This isn’t about bravery, Rhaenyra. It’s about strategy.”

She stops pacing, standing just a step away from you now. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “Strategy? Strategy would see you dead! Do you think Aemond will give you a clean fight? Do you think Sunfyre will hesitate to tear Vermithor apart, or that Vhagar’s rage can be controlled?”

You step closer, your hands reaching for hers. She doesn’t resist when you take them, though she stiffens beneath your touch. “Rhaenyra, my love,” you murmur, softening your voice. “Do you think I don’t understand your fear? Do you think I am eager for this? But Rhaenys cannot go. Meleys is fierce but no match for Vhagar and Sunfyre together. If we send her, we lose not only a dragon but the Queen Who Never Was. And what then? Our strength relies on the alliances we keep. If I do not go, who will?”

Her lips tremble, but she is too proud to let tears fall. “You would ask me to wait here, knowing you might not return?”

“I would,” you say, your own voice beginning to crack. “And I would ask you to trust me. Vermithor is not so easily defeated. Nor am I.”

A scoff interrupts the moment, and you turn to see Daemon standing by the edge of the Painted Table, his arms crossed. His smirk is sharp and cutting, though his eyes are shadowed by something deeper. “You’ve got fire in you, boy,” he says, nodding in approval. “But fire can burn too bright. Listen to your wife. There’s wisdom in what she says.”

You glare at him. “And would you go in my place, father? Or shall we send our cousins to fight their battles for them?”

Daemon’s smirk fades, replaced by a flash of anger. “Watch your tongue. I’ve fought my wars. This isn’t about me.”

“No,” you reply, stepping away from Rhaenyra. “It isn’t. It’s about what we stand to lose if no one dares to take the risk.”

Rhaenyra’s voice rises, cutting through the tension. “This is not a risk worth taking! You are my husband, the father of our children, the heir to your father’s legacy. I will not be left alone to face the Hightowers without you.”

You look at her, your resolve beginning to waver under her fierce gaze. “And what if I were to refuse? What if I stood by while another died in my place? What kind of man would you have me be, Rhaenyra?”

She doesn’t answer, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions. Finally, she shakes her head. “I would have you alive. That is all I ask.”

You step closer to her again, cupping her cheek in your hand. “I will come back to you,” you whisper. “I swear it.”

She closes her eyes, leaning into your touch for a brief moment before pulling away. “If you don’t,” she says, her voice breaking, “I will burn the world for you.”

The room falls silent, the only sound the crackling of the torches. Daemon’s gaze shifts between the two of you, but he says nothing.

Finally, you step back, your decision made. “Prepare Vermithor,” you say, your voice steady. “We leave at first light.”

Rhaenyra doesn’t try to stop you again. She turns and leaves the hall without another word, the weight of her silence heavier than any argument could have been. You watch her go, feeling the ache of what you might lose settle deep in your chest.

Daemon approaches, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve got guts,” he says quietly. “And gods willing, they won’t be spilled on the battlefield. Fly fast, strike hard, and don’t let them see your fear.”

You nod, your jaw tightening. “Fear has no place on dragonback.”

As you walk toward the doors, toward Vermithor and the battle to come, you feel the weight of your family’s legacy on your shoulders. The fear you won’t show burns in your veins, but so does the fire of the dragon you ride.

The wind roars around you as you soar high above the skies of Rook’s Rest. The faint shimmer of dawn outlines the horizon, casting a pale light over the smoke-streaked battlefield below. Screams and the clang of steel rise from the earth, but your focus is not on the chaos beneath. It is on the two monstrous shapes in the distance, silhouetted against the blood-red sky: Vhagar and Sunfyre.

Vermithor growls beneath you, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through your saddle and bones. You tighten your grip on the reins, your other hand holding firm to your sword. “Steady,” you murmur. “They will come to us soon enough.”

And they do.

Sunfyre is the first to dive, his golden scales gleaming like molten fire in the light. His roar splits the sky, the sound sharp and youthful compared to Vermithor’s guttural response. You see Aegon, clad in his golden armor, urging his dragon forward, his lance raised high.

“Come on, you craven bastard!” you shout, leaning low over Vermithor’s neck. The Bronze Fury beneath you answers with a sudden surge of speed, his wings cutting through the air like knives. You feel the force of the wind nearly pull you from the saddle, but you hold firm, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The collision is violent. Sunfyre dives toward Vermithor, claws outstretched, but your dragon is older, wiser, and stronger. He twists at the last moment, slamming his massive tail into Sunfyre’s side. Aegon jerks in his saddle, clutching at his reins as Sunfyre shrieks in pain. Blood sprays through the air, bright and vivid, as Vermithor’s claws rake across Sunfyre’s golden scales.

"Is this the mighty king of Westeros?" you bellow, your voice carried by the wind. "Hiding behind a boy's dragon?"

Aegon’s response is drowned out by Sunfyre’s pained roars. Vermithor doesn’t relent. With a furious snarl, he lunges forward, sinking his teeth into Sunfyre’s neck. The golden dragon thrashes wildly, his tail lashing out and striking Vermithor’s side, but it’s not enough.

"Break him!" you command, gripping the reins tightly. Vermithor obeys with a brutal snap of his jaws. The sound of bone cracking echoes through the skies as Sunfyre’s neck is wrenched unnaturally to the side. Blood pours from the wound, a torrent of crimson that stains the golden dragon’s once-majestic scales. Sunfyre’s struggles weaken, his roars fading into gurgles, and then he falls, his body tumbling through the air like a broken doll.

Aegon screams, clutching desperately to his saddle as his dragon plummets. You don’t watch him hit the ground. Your attention is already shifting to the second threat.

Vhagar.

The ancient beast’s shadow falls over you like a stormcloud. Her roar is deafening, a sound that shakes the very heavens. Aemond sits astride her, his sapphire eye gleaming with malice as he points his blade at you.

“Did you think this would be easy?” Aemond calls, his voice cold and sharp. “You’ll find no victory here, cousin.”

“Come and claim it, then!” you shout back, spurring Vermithor forward. The two dragons close the distance in seconds, the clash of their bodies like thunder. Vermithor’s claws rake against Vhagar’s armored hide, tearing at the thick scales, while Vhagar snaps at Vermithor’s wings, her fangs narrowly missing the fragile membranes.

Aemond leans low, slashing out with his blade as you duck beneath the swing. “You’ll die screaming, like the traitor you are!” he snarls.

“You first!” you reply, swinging your own sword. The clang of steel on steel is lost in the chaos as the dragons spiral through the sky, locked in a deadly dance. Vhagar is larger, her sheer size giving her an advantage, but Vermithor is ferocious and unyielding, his age and experience matching her ferocity.

The sky becomes a blur of wings, claws, and blood. Vhagar’s tail slams into Vermithor’s side, sending you lurching in your saddle. You clutch at the reins, your heart pounding as you struggle to regain control. Vermithor roars in defiance, his jaws snapping at Vhagar’s throat. He manages to latch on, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh beneath her scales. Blood sprays, hot and sticky, coating you and your saddle.

Aemond yanks at Vhagar’s reins, pulling her away with a furious roar. “Kill him! Burn him to ash!” he commands. Vhagar rears back, her chest swelling as she prepares to unleash her flames.

“Dracarys!” you shout, and Vermithor answers. The two torrents of fire collide, the heat so intense it scorches the air around you. The force of the blast throws both dragons apart, their wings flailing as they struggle to stay aloft. You cling to the saddle, your vision blurred by smoke and ash.

And then it happens.

The two dragons charge at each other once more, their momentum unstoppable. They collide with such force that you feel the impact in your bones. Claws tear into flesh, teeth rip through scales, and blood rains from the sky in a crimson torrent. The screams of the dragons are deafening, a symphony of pain and fury.

You and Aemond are both thrown from your saddles as the dragons lock together, their massive bodies spiraling toward the ground. You hit the earth hard, the impact driving the air from your lungs. Pain radiates through your body, but you force yourself to your feet, your sword still clutched in your hand.

In the distance, Vermithor and Vhagar crash into the battlefield, their bodies a tangle of wings and limbs. Dust and debris rise around them, obscuring the scene. You stagger forward, determined to finish what you started.

Aemond emerges from the haze, his face twisted with rage. His sword gleams in the faint light, its edge coated in blood. “This ends here,” he growls, stalking toward you.

You raise your own blade, your grip steady despite the pain coursing through your body. “It does,” you reply, meeting his gaze. “But not the way you think.”

The two of you charge at each other, the clash of steel echoing through the battlefield as the dragons continue their brutal struggle behind you.

The clash of steel rings in your ears as you swing your blade at Aemond, his movements as sharp and calculated as your own. You’re both bloodied, sweat and grime mingling with the smears of red that coat your faces. The battlefield beneath your feet is slick with the lifeblood of men and dragons alike, a fitting stage for this deadly dance.

“You think you can kill me?” Aemond snarls, parrying your strike and stepping in close. His sapphire eye gleams with manic hatred. “I am a warrior, not a lord who hides behind his wife’s skirts. You are nothing but her puppet!”

The words sting, but they don’t shake your focus. “Better a puppet than a madman blinded by ambition,” you retort, sidestepping his thrust and slashing at his shoulder. Your blade connects, tearing through the leather and biting into flesh. Aemond grunts, staggering back, but his fury doesn’t waver.

Behind you, the guttural roars of Vermithor and Vhagar shake the earth. You spare a glance over your shoulder and see the two massive dragons locked in a death grip, their claws raking through each other’s flesh. Blood pours from gaping wounds in Vhagar’s side, painting her ancient scales a deeper shade of red. Vermithor, battered and bleeding, snaps his jaws around her throat, shaking her like a rabid beast. She thrashes, her wings beating wildly, but Vermithor doesn’t relent.

Aemond seizes the opportunity, lunging at you with a scream of rage. His blade slices through the air, catching your side. The pain is immediate, sharp and burning, and you cry out as blood seeps through your tunic. The wound slows you, but not enough to stop your counterattack. You raise your sword and swing upward, aiming for his head. He ducks, but your blade grazes his cheek, splitting the skin and sending a spray of blood across the ground.

“You’ll pay for that!” he roars, his voice unhinged. He charges again, driving you back with a flurry of brutal strikes. Each clash of your swords sends jolts of pain through your body, your wounded side weakening your defense. Aemond’s strength is relentless, and for a moment, it feels as though he might overpower you.

But you are not done yet.

With a desperate surge of energy, you twist your body, dodging his next strike and slamming the hilt of your sword into his ribs. He gasps, staggering, and you use the moment to close the gap. Raising your blade, you aim for his face.

He tries to block, but you’re faster. Your sword pierces his healthy eye, the blade sinking deep into the socket. His scream is inhuman, a sound of pure agony that echoes across the battlefield. Blood gushes from the wound, thick and dark, pouring down his face as he drops his sword and clutches at his ruined eye.

“You wanted to see the world burn,” you hiss through gritted teeth, twisting the blade. “Now you’ll see nothing at all.”

With a final thrust, you drive the sword deeper, the blade slicing into his brain. His body convulses violently, and then he falls to his knees, blood pouring from his eye and mouth. You wrench your blade free, and he collapses face-first into the dirt, his once-proud figure reduced to a lifeless husk.

The sound of Vhagar’s dying roar pulls your attention. You turn just in time to see Vermithor deliver the killing blow. His massive jaws clamp around her belly, tearing through scales and flesh to rip out her liver and entrails. The viscera spill onto the ground in a steaming, grotesque heap, the stench of blood and bile overwhelming. Vhagar’s massive body trembles, her wings twitching as she lets out a final, shuddering breath. Her eyes glaze over, and she slumps to the ground, defeated.

Vermithor stands over her, his bronze hide drenched in blood, his chest heaving with exertion. He lets out a victorious roar, a sound that shakes the heavens, before collapsing onto his haunches, his body trembling from his wounds.

You stagger forward, your own body screaming in protest. Blood drips from your side, your vision swimming as you take in the scene around you. The battlefield is chaos, but the tide has turned. The Hightower forces are in full retreat, their banners disappearing into the distance. Among them, you catch sight of Criston Cole, his armor smeared with blood as he flees with his men. The sight fills you with grim satisfaction.

But the victory feels hollow. The cost has been too high. It always is.

Your gaze shifts back to Vermithor, who watches you with weary, golden eyes. You place a trembling hand on his side, feeling the heat of his body and the steady rise and fall of his breath. “Rest, old friend,” you murmur, your voice hoarse. “You’ve earned it.”

Your thoughts drift to Rhaenyra, her face sharp and vivid in your mind’s eye. You promised her you would return, and you intend to keep that promise. Even now, as your body screams for rest and your wounds threaten to pull you under, you force yourself to move. Each step is agony, but you keep going, driven by the thought of her waiting for you.

You will return to her. You must.

And when you do, the war will not be over, but you will face it together.