#she refers to herself in such a manner like she’s a prince but it’s all in title she has no noble origins to speak of

[osamudadzai]

I just need to talk about her before I explode I made another bungou oc and I love her a lot I’m not gonna lie

[wonder-worker]

Margaret of Anjou’s visit to Coventry [in 1456], which was part of her dower and that of her son, Edward of Lancaster, was much more elaborate. It essentially reasserted Lancastrian power. The presence of Henry and the infant Edward was recognised in the pageantry. The ceremonial route between the Bablake gate and the commercial centre was short, skirting the area controlled by the cathedral priory, but it made up for its brevity with no fewer than fourteen pageants. Since Coventry had an established cycle of mystery plays, there were presumably enough local resources and experience to mount an impressive display; but one John Wetherby was summoned from Leicester to compose verses and stage the scenes. As at Margaret’s coronation the iconography was elaborate, though it built upon earlier developments.

Starting at Bablake gate, next to the Trinity Guild church of St. Michael, Bablake, the party was welcomed with a Tree of Jesse, set up on the gate itself, with the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah explaining the symbolism. Outside St. Michael’s church the party was greeted by Edward the Confessor and St. John the Evangelist; and proceeding to Smithford Street, they found on the conduit the four Cardinal Virtues—Righteousness (Justice?), Prudence, Temperance, and Fortitude. In Cross Cheaping wine flowed freely, as in London, and angels stood on the cross, censing Margaret as she passed. Beyond the cross was pitched a series of pageants, each displaying one of the Nine Worthies, who offered to serve Margaret. Finally, the queen was shown a pageant of her patron saint, Margaret, slaying the dragon [which 'turned out to be strictly an intercessor on the queen's behalf', as Helen Maurer points out].

The meanings here are complex and have been variously interpreted. An initial reading of the programme found a message of messianic kingship: the Jesse tree equating royal genealogy with that of Christ had been used at the welcome for Henry VI on his return from Paris in 1432. A more recent, feminist view is that the symbolism is essentially Marian, and to be associated with Margaret both as queen and mother of the heir rather than Henry himself. The theme is shared sovereignty, with Margaret equal to her husband and son. Ideal kingship was symbolised by the presence of Edward the Confessor, but Margaret was the person to whom the speeches were specifically addressed and she, not Henry, was seen as the saviour of the house of Lancaster. This reading tips the balance too far the other way: the tableau of Edward the Confessor and St. John was a direct reference to the legend of the Ring and the Pilgrim, one of Henry III’s favourite stories, which was illustrated in Westminster Abbey, several of his houses, and in manuscript. It symbolised royal largesse, and its message at Coventry would certainly have encompassed the reigning king. Again, the presence of allegorical figures, first used for Henry, seems to acknowledge his presence. Yet, while the message of the Coventry pageants was directed at contemporary events it emphasised Margaret’s motherhood and duties as queen; and it was expressed as a traditional spiritual journey from the Old Testament, via the incarnation represented by the cross, to the final triumph over evil, with the help of the Virgin, allegory, and the Worthies. The only true thematic innovation was the commentary by the prophets.

[...] The messages of the pageants firmly reminded the royal women of their place as mothers and mediators, honoured but subordinate. Yet, if passive, these young women were not without significance. It is clear from the pageantry of 1392 and 1426 in London and 1456 in Coventry that when a crisis needed to be resolved, the queen (or regent’s wife) was accorded extra recognition. Her duty as mediator—or the good aspect of a misdirected man—suddenly became more than a pious wish. At Coventry, Margaret of Anjou was even presented as the rock upon which the monarchy rested. [However,] a crisis had to be sensed in order to provoke such emphasis [...]."

-Nicola Coldstream, "Roles of Women in Late Medieval Civic Pageantry", Reassessing the Roles of Women as 'Makers' of Medieval Art and Culture

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 1

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

*112 AC

Viserea leaned down low against the saddle of Tessarion,

“Aderī! (Quickly.)” She shouted, smiling as the wind whipped in her face. Rhaenyra and Syrax were close behind them as they neared the dragonpit and Viserea was determined to win their race. As the four came dangerously close to the pit, Viserea called out to Tessarion again,

“Paerī, nepot. (Slow, to the pit).”

The dragons touched down at the same time and Viserea waited until the two dragonkeepers had Tessarion’s attention before dismounting. Giving her dragon one last loving pat on her neck, Viserea made her way over to where Rhaenyra stood with Lady Alicent Hightower.

Viserea bit her tongue and forced a polite smile onto her face as Rhaenyra and Alicent spoke for a moment more. They boarded the carriage together and Viserea kept her eyes out of the carriage window while they rode through the streets of King’s Landing. She didn’t bother joining in on the conversation. She and Alicent had never seen eye-to-eye on most things and she wouldn’t be the one to make Rhaenyra choose between her two closest friends, so staying quiet during the conversations between the two was the best thing she could think to do. Mayhaps it was jealousy, but Viserea refused to let her mind wander down that path. Every time she thought about it, she was left even more confused than before.

After exiting the carriage, Viserea stayed in step with Rhaenyra and Alicent, participating in their conversation just enough to not be considered rude. They approached Queen Aemma’s door and all three were swiftly let inside the Queen’s chambers. Alicent greeted the Queen, then gave a small bow to the Princesses, excusing herself to allow the two to visit with Aemma.

“My girls,” Aemma greeted with a warm smile which the Targaryens returned. “Must you two continue flying while I am in this condition? You know I do not like it.”

“Your Grace-” Viserea started, only to be stopped when Aemma held her hand up,

“Viserea, you have been my daughter for years now. Unless you wish for me to only address you as Princess, I ask you to stop referring to me as your Queen. Aemma will do fine,” Aemma told her, causing the girl to smile and nod her head.

“You don’t really prefer us flying while you're in any condition, mother,” Rhaenyra pointed out, causing her mother to chuckle, “Did you sleep?”

“I did,” Aemma answered.

“For how long?”

“You know I am the mother here, I do not need looking after.”

“Well all the attendants surrounding you seem to be focused on the babe, I can only count on myself and Viserea to attend to your needs.”

“Soon enough you two will both be going through the same discomfort. It is our duty to the realm,” Upon seeing both girls grimace, Aemma continued, “The knights ride into battle and we fight a battle here, ensuring our legacy lives on, and doing so with a stiff lip. Now go bathe, both of you. You smell of dragon.”

Viserea and Rhaenyra both bid the Queen goodbye and placed a kiss on her forehead before exiting the room.

“I know it is our duty, but I do not want to become a slave to that bed,” Rhaenyra said once they were far enough away that they could not be heard.

“Neither do I. I do not wish to become a slave to my husband either. Only viewed as a title with a womb that can give him and his house more power,” Viserea replied. This was a topic the two had discussed multiple times at depth.

“What is it you wish for in a marriage?” Rhaenyra asked Viserea, looking to her with genuine curiosity written across her features. Viserea blushed lightly as she answered,

“A marriage to rival Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys’. We would be wed in the Valyrian manner with cut lips and palms to bind us to each other. Someone who looked at me and did not view me as just a Targaryen Princess, but looked at me and recognized the power Targaryen Princesses truly held. Aegon did not lock Visenya and Rhaenys away to their bed chambers and force them to provide him with heirs. He had them fight alongside him and gave them a voice in his court by always taking their opinions into account.”

“You seem to have thought about this before.”

“And you have not?” Viserea asked, already knowing the answer.

“I am to be wed to Syrax and cake alone. Never to a man,” Rhaenyra joked, causing both her and Viserea to burst into a fit of laughter.

The two told each other they would meet at the Godswood and Rhaenyra made her way to the Small Council room as it was her day to be the cupbearer for the King.

It was one of the first things Viserys did. After making Viserea a member of his family, he declared both her and Rhaenyra to be cupbearers, saying they could each spend a day by his side, and that if there was a matter of extreme importance being discussed, there would simply be two cupbearers in the chamber.

While Rhaenyra carried out her duties, Viserea was bathed, redressed, and her hair was freshly braided. Ser Ryden met her at her door when she went to exit and begin heading to the tourney.

“Princess, there is someone here that wishes to see you in the throne room,” he informed her as he began guiding her to the throne room.

A wide smile came across Viserea’s face, already knowing who awaited. When she entered the throne room, it was to no surprise of hers that she saw Daemon seated upon the Iron Throne, though she could hear Ser Ryden behind her gasp at the disrespect.

“You play a dangerous game, Uncle. One might think your actions disrespectful and let you feel the wrath of a dragon,” Viserea greeted in their mother tongue of High Valyrian.

“Are we so sure that the Queen is to have a boy? This throne might end up mine yet,” Daemon said, a playful smirk on his face as he looked down at the Princess from where he sat.

“The King said he had a dream that it was a boy. Though he also said the boy was born wearing the crown of Aegon the Conquere so I am unsure of how much faith to place in his dream.”

“Is it not possible that the babe being born with a crown is a metaphor for him being crowned king later in life?” Daemon asked Viserea. She gave a shrug in response,

“Every dreamer is different. My dream of Rhaenyra and I was straightforward, but I do not know what Danys saw. It is alway possible that her dream was not actually of Valyria burning and she was left to decipher the meaning of her dream.” The limited knowledge on dragon dreams was something that had driven Viserea to tears many times; unable to tell if nightmares were just bad dreams, or if her family would truly face the fates she dreamed of.

“Describe the dream again,” Daemon commanded with a voice full of curiosity.

Viserea had explained the dream to him multiple times over by now, yet he asked to hear the story of it every time. She had no qualms with explaining it again and again to Daemon, for he seemed to be the only one, aside from Rhaenyra, who seemed curious about the dreams. Others seemed to be in a state of awe after hearing it and many at court used “meeting the dreamer” as a bragging right to their peers. Daemon and Rhaenyra were the two that helped her look at every possible angle with her dreams, prophetic or not, and decipher if there was another meaning to them. So Viserea retold the story of her dream and the events that had taken place the next day.

“If the whispers are to be believed, I will be gifting you a new saddle for your dragon, soon,” Daemon said, apparently not being able to come up with any other meaning for Viserea’s dream and changing the topic of conversation.

“The dragonmasters say she will outgrow the pit at the rate she is growing and possibly grow larger than Meleys and Caraxes in the coming years. There are many adult dragons down there that Tessarion has grown larger than,” Viserea spoke in the common tongue now, though anyone could have told she was proud of her dragon by the look on her face.

“It seems fitting that the Targaryen princess named for Visenya would hatch and bond to her own dragon that is bound to reach the same size as Vhagar.” Daemon wore a proud look on his face as he spoke.

“I believe Tessarion will outgrow Vhagar and that we are looking at the next Balerion.”

The voice came from behind Viserea and she turned to see Rhaenyra approaching her. “Nice to see you again, Uncle. What has brought you back?”

“The tourney in my honor, Princess,” Daemon answered, stepping down from the Iron Throne.

“He still is not sure that mother's babe is the heir,” Viserea told Rhaenyra, to which she nodded.

“And until she brings forth a son, you are all stuck with me.” Daemon stopped in front of the two girls, looking down at them.

“Then Viserea and I shall both hope for a son,” Rhaenyra said, smirking up at Daemon and causing Viserea to giggle.

Daemon smirked back at Rhaenyra then looked to Viserea with the same fond expression before pulling something out for each of them.

“I brought each of you something. Do you know what they are?”

Viserea and Rhaenyra each reached for the object he held out towards them. He had brought Viserea back a ring and earrings, which she gently took. The steel felt cold in her hands and she realized what it was at the same time as Rhaenyra.

“Valyrian steel,” they said at the same moment.

“So we can all have a piece of our ancestry. Turn around,” Daemon said to Rhaenyra.

Viserea took out the earrings she wore currently and put in the earrings Daemon had brought her while Daemon helped Rhaenyra fasten the new necklace. After he had fastened Rhaenyra’s necklace, he took the ring from Viserea and gently placed it on her hand.

“They were intended to be worn together, but I do believe you two are one of the same. If both of you wear it, the set might as well be worn by the same person,” Daemon remarked, causing both of the girls to look at each other and exchange smiles. “I’ll see you both at the Tourney.” He said, dipping his head respectfully to the girls before leaving the throne room.

Rhaenyra and Viserea looked at each other after they had watched him leave, then began making their way to the Godswood, where they were both due to go over their studies with Alicent.

“How was the Council?” Viserea asked, reverting back to speaking in Valyrian so that the matters handled in the council would stay private.

“The Maester asked about the Rogue’s progress on the City Watch, father brushed it off and said he was ‘occupied’,” Rhaenyra started, distaste clear in her voice and it was obvious to Viserea that Rhaenyra was giving her the nice version of what was really said, “the Sea Snake is worried about a Triarchy in the Stepstones being led by a man who calls himself the Crabfeeder and what it could mean for our ports. No one paid that any mind because soon the Tourney was brought up.”

Viserea interjected before Rhaenyra could continue, “The trading ports? If there is danger near them, I side with the Sea Snake. Those ports cannot be lost.”

Rhaenyra gave Viserea a look that said she agreed, “The Tourney holds father’s attention over the ports. Who wants to think of war when the future king is supposed to be born?”

Viserea did not reply, knowing the question was a rhetorical one. Her thoughts raced everywhere as they continued walking to the Godswood; some of them on Aemma’s labors, others thinking of the Tourney, others thinking of the ports in the Stepstones, and a small portion of her thoughts thinking of the ring on her finger, the necklace around Rhaenyra’s neck, and the earrings adorning her ears.

For once, Viserea was happy to see Alicent. She offered a distraction. Viserea could focus on the stories of the rulers before them instead of the matters at hand. She answered all of Alicent’s questions, and helped Rhaenyra answer the ones she tried to simply play off. Viserea watched as Rhaenyra laid her head in Alicent’s lap and continued brushing off all of Alicent’s questions, even as Alicent grew frustrated.

She stayed seated when Alicent stood up and let a smirk play across her face when Rhaenyra recited Princess Nymeria’s tale of fleeing across the Narrow Sea. Viserea knew Rhaenyra could recite most of the book, and that she was much smarter than she let on, and in the moments she showed it, pride would flow through Viserea.

As they walked back to the castle, the three of them laughed as Rhaenyra cussed the Septa, and let their topic of conversation change to that of who was attending the Tourney.

Viserea was awoken early the next morning, the light of day not even shining through her windows yet. Groggily, she stumbled to the door of her chambers, opening it and finding two handmaidens standing there.

“The Lord Hand sent us to ready you, Princess. A Small Council meeting has been called.” Stepping back, Viserea allowed the handmaidens to enter.

They dressed her quickly, and one of them styled her hair in a simple braid, given the short amount of time they had. Neither of them spoke to Viserea, knowing she was not talkative in the mornings, and Viserea was grateful. She thanked both of them once they were finished and stepped out of her room, being greeted by Ser Ryden.

“You look as lovely as ever, Princess,” he greeted, walking beside her as they made their way to the Council room.

“I do not feel it, Ser. I feel as though I have just been called out of bed before the sun has risen,” Viserea said bitterly, though the knight knew none of the bitterness was directed towards him.

The two met with Otto and the King as they neared the room,

“…it was an unprecedented roundup of alleged criminals of every ilk. Your brother made a public show of it, meting out the summary judgments himself. I'm told they needed a two-horse cart to haul away the resulting… dismemberments when it was done,” Otto said, paying no mind to Viserea as she joined them.

“Gods be good…” She heard Viserys mumble as the entered the Council room.

“The Prince cannot be allowed to act with this kind of unchecked impunity,” Otto continued before being interrupted by the Lord Commander, Redwyne.

Daemon’s presence sent a jolt through Viserea and it took her a moment to remember her duties. She walked to the side of the room and picked up the wine, beginning to fill the cups of the attending council members, though Daemon and Corlys were the only two to acknowledge her with a thanks.

Viserea stopped behind Otto’s chair, her eyes on the blood streak that stained Daemon’s gold cloak.

“Do not let me interrupt, my Lord Hand. You were saying something about my impunity?” Daemon spoke, both he and Viserea watching as Otto looked to the king to continue the conversation.

When he stayed silent, Otto moved to his seat, causing Viserea to have to quickly step to the side to avoid being hit by the chair. Lyonel Strong reached for Viserea’s arm to steady her and Daemon’s look towards Otto turned to a glare.

“You are to explain your doings with the City Watch,” Otto said, paying no mind to Viserea.

“What about them?” Daemons questioned. He sat down along with the rest of the council when the king sat down.

“Your new “gold cloaks” made quite an impression last night,” King Viserys finally spoke.

“Did they?” Daemon replied, causing Viserea to force back a smile.

“The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at your whim. They are an extension of the crown,” Otto continued before being cut off.

“The Watch was enforcing the crown’s laws. Wouldn’t you say, Lord Strong?” Daemon and Viserea both looked to Lord Strong, who looked taken aback. He stuttered out a “My Prince” before Otto was speaking over him again.

“Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws,” the Hand said.

Viserea couldn’t help herself as she stood still between the Hand and the Master of Laws and let her eyes flicker between Otto and Daemon.

“Nobles from every corner of the realm are right now descending King’s Landing for my brother’s tourney. Do you want them to be mugged, raped, murdered?” Daemon’s face looked bored as he continued speaking to Otto, “You mightn’t know this unless you stepped out of the Red Keep, Lord Hightower, but much of King’s Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying. Our city should be safe for all its people.”

“It’s true,” Viserea spoke, causing all heads to turn towards her. The blush that graced her cheeks matched the red in the gems of the jewelry gifted to her by Daemon which she currently wore. “The smallfolk don’t allow their children to roam the streets as they once did.”

“And how would you be aware of this?” Otto asked, looking up at her.

“Princess Rhaenyra and I notice it when we fly above. The children used to chase our dragons through the streets and now their parents keep a hand on them to prevent them from doing so,” She replied confidently, the lie coming easy to her. She would not tell them how she truly knew, though Viserys and Daemon both knew the truth and she could tell by the look the King was giving her.

“I agree that the city should be safe for all of its people, I just hope you don’t have to maim half my city to achieve this,” Viserys said, trying to calm the tension in the room.

“Time will tell,” Daemon answered easily, still looking up at Viserea.

Viserea looked away when Corlys voiced his support for Daemon and made her way around the table to top off anyone’s cups that needed it. She came to a stop next to Daemon when Otto brought up Daemon’s marriage. A sour taste filled Viserea’s mouth but she forced her face to remain blank.

“We understand from Lord Yorkers that you’ve not been seen in the Vale or at Runestone in some time. Queen Aemma was very proud to have arranged your union with Lady Rhea,” Otto continued on.

“I would think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence.” Daemon’s statement caused Lyman Beesbury and Lord Strong to both take sips of their wine, while Corlys and Viserea made eye contact and exchanged similar looks of amusement.

“Lady Rhea is your wife, a good and honorable lady of the Vale-“

“In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women. I can assure you, the sheep are prettier.”

“You took a vow before the eyes of the Seven to honor the Lady Rhea in marriage.”

“Lady Rhea doesn’t seem to enjoy the Prince’s company either, is he to force himself on her?” Viserea quipped, an eyebrow raised toward the Hand.

Before Otto could reply, Daemon cut in again, seeing that Otto’s temper was about to turn on Viserea.

“I’d gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you’re in need of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently, did she not?”

Viserea nor Daemon flinched when Otto jumped from his chair, sending it toppling over.

“Perhaps you aren’t ready to move on just yet,” Daemon said, causing Viserea to cover her chuckle with a small cough.

“You know my brother makes sport of provoking you, Otto. Must you indulge him?” Viserys asked, his own exhaustion at the dynamic evident in his voice.

As Otto utters an apology and picks up his chair, Viserys looks up at Viserea, silently reprimanding her for aiding in Daemon’s comments. The King turned to Daemon and spoke once Otto had sat back down.

“The council has, at great expense, bettered the City Watch to your exact standards. Enforce my laws, but know that any further performances like last night’s will be answered.”

“Understood, Your Grace,” Daemon said, standing up from his spot, “Was there anything else?”

“That is all. You and Viserea can both be dismissed.”

Viserea was not surprised at her early dismissal, knowing it was the response to her comments and to her admitting she was sneaking around the city again.

She placed the wine down on its table and walked to the end of the table, where she took Daemon’s arm that he offered to her. She looked up at him as they left the room, clear confusion written on her face but no answers were given until the doors of the room were shut behind them.

Daemon answered her unspoken question, “I really do enjoy getting under our dear Hand’s skin, and offering the Princess my arm to escort her from the room and show that I do know how to use my manners is a great way of doing so.”

Viserea forced herself not to let the laughter consume her body, though the broad smile she wore showed just how amused she was at Daemon’s actions.

“I am glad I’m not the only one who enjoys watching his face turn red. It was worth being dismissed from the meeting early and any stern words I’ll receive from the King about my sneaking into the city if it means taking him down a peg.”

“You should be more careful, Princess. I am watching how you handle yourself in these meetings, and I cannot offer such a rebellious person a place in my council,” Daemon teased.

“Your council?” Viserea questioned, “Going by the King’s word, it will not be your council. It will be his son’s. I will be promised no place on the future King’s council so I might as well make sure my place is noted in the books. I do not wish to just be remembered as another Targaryen Princess married off to a Lord in order to further whichever King’s political gain.” Though her tone was light, her words held some weight.

“I shall see to it that you are remembered as more than that,” Daemon told her, his words completely erasing the joking atmosphere between the two. Viserea doesn’t doubt his words for a moment, looking up at him and offering him a small smile.

“I look forward to seeing how you carry out that promise,” she told him.

The rest of the day flew by uneventfully for Viserea. She had attended another council meeting of little importance later in the day, and recited the events of the two meetings to Rhaenyra in her chambers before they went to bed.

She did well when the Septa tested her on the histories and the Septa rewarded her with another book from the North, specifically from Winterfell, though this one was clearly written for her. It was a detailed history of the Starks and must have been written by the Starks own maester. The book was heavier than most, but Viserea knew some of that weight was mental. She had learned what she must about her family in her classes, but couldn’t bring herself to study more about them. It made her feel closer to her mother, but she found the cost to be just as large as the reward.

Viserea was never ashamed of who her mother was, in fact, she frequently wore dresses of Stark grey intertwined with Targaryen red to honor her mother and her mother’s family. However, she could only sometimes bring herself to do more than that. She loved Aemma as a mother figure, and she knew that Aemma loved her as if she was her own. Viserea was grateful for the love she received from her father’s family, but that did not fill the hole she felt of not having her own mother there with her. Learning about the Starks made her feel closer to her mother and farther away at the same time.

Viserea was more than grateful for the afternoon dragon ride she was able to take with Rhaenyra, though they kept the flight short in case Aemma’s condition changed at all. The short time in the air helped clear her head and she was back to her usual self by the time they returned to the pit.

That night, after Viserea had told Rhaenyra of the council meeting and they had bid each other a good night, Viserea fell asleep quickly. The sleep did not last long though.

She did not remember what the dream started as, but it quickly turned to one of horror. Aemma in pain, blood soaked sheets, and two pyres being burned by dragonfire at Rhaenyra’s command. She was shaken awake by Ser Ryden, concern written on his face as he checked her over for injuries and started to call for the maesters.

“No, don’t!” Viserea commanded, through a tear soaked face. “It was a dream, nothing is wrong with me.” She said, falling against Ser Ryden and sobbing into the cool metal of his armor.

“I need Nyra and Daemon.” She told him, pulling away. There wasn’t a single protest from him as he left the room to retrieve the two, coming back less than a moment later with a disheveled and concerned Rhaenyra.

“The Prince is not in his chambers.” Ser Ryden said, “I checked them myself on the way to the Princess’.”

Rhaenyra quickly made her way to Viserea’s bed and the two hugged each other tightly.

“Is it bad?” Rhaenyra asked her after a couple minutes of their embrace. Viserea took a shaky breath and nodded,

“Horrible. The other nightmares were nothing like this, they weren’t prophecies, this was.” Viserea told her, pulling away to look at Rhaenyra.

“What is it about?” Rhaenyra asked. Viserea tried to reply, but felt the tears start again and took a couple deep breaths to calm herself,

“I feel like if I say it out loud, it will make it come true and you will hate me for it.”

“I could never hate you.” Rhaenyra said quickly, taking Viserea’s hands in her own. “You see prophecies. They are already set in stone, you do not make them.”

“It’s mother.” Viserea said.

She gave Rhaenyra a moment to decide if she wanted to hear more and, once she nodded for her to continue, told her of the prophecy. She left out the gruesome details, telling her only that she saw Rhaenyra giving Syrax the command to burn their pyres.

“There’s more.” Rhaenyra wasn't asking, she knew that Viserea was withholding part of the dream.

“Trust me and hear me when I say that you do not want to know. It is not something you need to be haunted with.” Viserea’s voice was cold and serious, making Rhaenyra nod.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Rhaenyra asked her, though she had already begun pulling the blankets back for herself.

“Please.” Viserea replied.

The two girls laid down next to each other, with Viserea pulling Rhaenyra into her side. Neither of them said another word. Neither of them knew what to say. They simply took what little comfort they could in each other’s presence.

Rhaenyra nor Viserea slept much the rest of the night, the two waking each other up due to a bad dream or anxiety the moment the other fell asleep. When their handmaidens saw to them the next morning, both girls looked as exhausted as they felt and neither of them wanted to attend breakfast.

The Princesses’ late arrival to the tourney did not go unnoticed by Viserys, who threw both girls a sidelong glance. Viserea and Rhaenyra both apologized to the nobles they had to climb across and Viserea sat on the side of Rhaenyra not occupied by Alicent.

When Viserea nor Rhaenyra showed much interest in Alicent’s gossip of Lady Elinor being secretly pregnant, Viserea saw her curve her body to face them and she dropped her voice.

“Are you feeling well?” She asked with a voice of genuine concern.

“Rea was sick last night, I stayed with her.” Rhaenyra lied quickly, though Viserea shook her head.

“She can know.” Viserea said, dropping her voice down and turning herself to the two girls beside her. “I had another dream last night. It was… gruesome to say the least.”

“Might I know the subject?” Alicent asked the two.

Viserys stood from behind the three of the girls,

“It has just been told to me that Queen Aemma has begun her labors!” He announced, smiling widely as the crowd cheered loudly.

Upon seeing Rhaenyra and Viserea exchange glances with clear worry written on their faces, Alicent quickly realized what the dream was about.

“Is there a way to stop it?” Alicent asked, but quickly backtracked “Apologies, you two would have already done it if you could.” She told them, taking one of their hands in each of her own.

“I won’t discuss the details of what I did see. They aren’t pleasant.” Viserea looked to Alicent, whose face was laced with curiosity and a sad look.

“She would not even tell me, only that she saw me burning the two pyres.” Rhaenyra said, her voice still dropped low, though all eyes were on the knights dueling below.

The three girls’ attention was drawn away from each other for a moment as the Master of Revels introduced Daemon and watched as he and his horse passed along the knights lined up.

When he pointed his lance to Gwayne Hightower, Viserea forced herself to keep the amused smile off of her face. Alicent was okay sometimes and Viserea had grown used to her presence due to Rhaenyra’s close friendship with her and she trusted her not to wrong them, but that was the nicest she could speak of the Hightower family.

Daemon dismounting Alicent’s brother caused all of the nobles and royals in the box to lean forward and Rhaenyra to gently rub Alicent’s back in a calming manner once her brother stood up.

“Nicely done, Uncle.” Rhaenyra told him.

“Quite a skilled performance.” Viserea said.

“Thank you, my Princesses.” He tells them both, smiling at them after removing his helmet. He lowers his lance towards Alicent, “I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.”

The same feelings of jealousy that Viserea had spent hours in solitude debating rose as a bile in her throat as she watched Alicent blush and stand up before placing the favor on Daemon’s lance.

“Good luck, my Prince.” Alicent wished him.

Viserea looked to Rhaenyra who was already looking at her. Both of them had frowns on their faces that they forced away when Alicent returned.

As the tourney continued on, Viserea’s favor was given to her cousin, Rickon, who invited her to see Winterfell.

Upon seeing Ser Criston Cole dismount Lord Boremund Baratheon, Rhaenyra called over Ser Harrold and Ser Ryden and questioned if either of them knew of the Cole man.

“We have been asking the same thing, Princesses and my Lady. I’m told Ser Criston is common-born, the son of Lord Blackhaven’s steward. Other than that, and the fact he has now unhorsed both the Baratheon lads, I could not say.” Ser Harrold told the three girls.

The three move to the guard-rail when it is announced that Ser Criston has chosen Daemon to tilt against. Viserea’s attention is drawn away from the fight and she grips the guard-rail tight enough that her knuckles turn white due to the strange feeling taking over body.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a melee!” The voice barely breaks through Viserea’s trance while she concentrates on taking deep breaths to steady herself. She hardly registers the rest of the world, only noticing from the sound of the crowd that Daemon had apparently been bested by Ser Criston and feeling Rhaenyra’s hand rest on top of hers.

“Sit.” Rhaenyra commands her, leaving no room in her voice for argument and Viserea doesn’t try to.

She begins to make her way to her seat, but is waved over by Princess Rhaenys, while Corlys stands and allows her to take his seat.

“Thank you, my Lord, but you did not have to give up your seat.” Viserea tells him.

“Nonsense. You looked as though you were about to faint.” Corlys spoke in Valyrian to the Princess, avoiding drawing any concern to them.

“Are you that concerned for your uncle’s wellbeing?” Rhaenys asked though she knew that was not the cause for Viserea’s episode.

Viserea looked to her cousin, her dark hair and lilac eyes complimented each other and the rare combination radiated power that Viserea had nothing but respect for.

“I always worry for my uncle, but no, that is not the reason for my… unease.” Viserea struggled to find the word that fit exactly what she was feeling.

The three of them turned their heads when they noticed Viserys and Otto leaving the box, and though she had not eaten anything since the night before, Viserea still felt she might be sick. She looked back to Rhaenyra and Alicent and was grateful neither of them had seemed to notice the absence.

“It is the Queen. You’ve had another dream and the Princess and Lady know of it.” Rhaenys’ declaration did not surprise Viserea; Rhaenys was a smart, strong, and observant woman.

Corlys’ looked down at Viserea when she nodded,

“You can feel the dream happening?” Corlys asked and Viserea shook her head.

“I don’t feel her labor pains, but I feel that the dream is happening. It did not happen when I predicted our first dragon ride, though I was still a child and the excitement of my first flight was the only thing I noticed.” Viserea looked between Rhaenys and Corlys as they exchanged glances.

The three of them stood as more cheers and screams of the crowd suddenly grew louder. They glanced down and saw that multiple fights had broken out which brought a sneer to Rhaenys’ face.

“Some way to celebrate the birth of our future king.” Corlys said with distaste.

“Their lords sent them to the tourney field with fists full of steel and balls full of seed. None of them have known real war. It is a wonder that war did not break out at first blood.” Rhaenys spoke in the common tongue now and moments later Otto returned to the royal box.

He whispered something into Corlys’ ear and went to the next member of the small council. The unease Viserea felt was gone, washed away by grief. She did not need to hear the Hand’s words in order to know the message he delivered.

A flurry broke out in the royal box and Viserea stood quickly, pushing her way through until she stood just outside of it, awaiting Rhaenyra. Once Rhaenyra joined her, Viserea immediately took her hand, letting Rhaenyra lead the way as she wordlessly followed her.

As they arrive at the Queen’s chambers, Viserea bites her tongue to avoid letting any tears fall. They both step into the doorway but neither cross the threshold. Aemma had already been taken out of the room and Viserea’s grip on Rhaenyra’s hand tightened as the short flashes of blood and pain from her dream began flashing through her head. When Viserys does not move from his spot, Rhaenyra is back to pulling Viserea down the hallways, not stopping until they reach Rhaenyra’s own chambers where she begins pacing in front of her bed.

“I was never good enough for him. A daughter with a womb, never a son with a cock.” Rhaenyra’s words shocked Viserea, but not because of what she said. The anger in her voice was surprising.

Viserea stepped closer to Rhaenyra, stopping her from walking and hugging her tightly. She felt Rhaenyra’s tears soak the shoulder of her dress and the two sat on the foot of her bed and her own tears soon began soaking Rhaenyra’s dress.

The tears eventually stopped flowing and the two of them moved to lay in the middle of Rhaenyra’s bed. Each of them had their arms wrapped around each other while Viserea laid on her back with Rhaenyra’s head on her chest.

“I feel selfish. I was able to know my mother and I grieve the loss of only one. You have now grieved the loss of two and it is you who comforts me.” Rhaenyra spoke, her voice gravelly.

“Our losses are not meant to be competitions, Nyra. You comforted me last night and I was delivering news of Aemma’s and your brother’s loss.” Viserea said, playing with a strand of Rhaenyra’s hair that had fallen.

“I will have to give the command?” Rhaenyra looked up at Viserea as she asked.

“I saw you give the command and since your father’s dragon has passed, the responsibility would fall to you. However, you are the Princess of the Realm. If you wanted me to give the command to Tessarion, I would oblige… and I am sure Daemon would offer Caraxes.”

“No. I will not pass off my responsibilities to someone else so that I may wallow in my own pity.” Rhaenyra said with a firm tone.

Viserea nodded and the two sat up when they heard a knock on the door. Rhaenyra cleared her throat before saying,

“Enter.”

Viserea’s favorite handmaiden, Amarda, entered followed by one of Rhaenyra’s. They each carried a tray of food and gently sat them on one of the tables of the room.

“I thought you two would enjoy your dinner in the Princess’ chambers tonight. The King had his delivered to his own chambers.” Amarda explained, offering a hand to each of the girls to help them stand.

“Thank you, Amarda.” Viserea offered her a small smile which she returned.

Rhaenyra and Viserea ate what they could stomach of their dinners and were briefly separated long enough to bathe and dress in their nightclothes. They joined each other in Rhaenyra’s room again afterwards and eventually received the news that Baelon had also passed.

A second sleepless night was spent together and the handmaidens offered no surprise to see them in Rhaenyra’s room together the next morning as they brought them their breakfast. The two were soon dressed in black dresses and cloaks and being ushered to the funeral.

It was late afternoon by the time everyone was brought out to Rhaenys’ Hill, the morning being spent inside and dealing with nobles offering well wishes to the remaining Targaryens. Viserea did not bother wiping away her tears as the Septon spoke. She kept her posture straight and her head high, her free hand by her side and the other laced with Rhaenyra’s. She did not know if she had offered her hand in an attempt to comfort Rhaenyra or herself, but she was glad when Rhaenyra took it. She could force herself to maintain a regal posture and not be ashamed of her tears, but she could not force herself to stand without the other princess.

The crowd turned to look towards Rhaenyra, signaling it was time for her to say the word, though she made no move.

“They’re waiting for you.” Daemon spoke gently from behind the two.

Viserea saw Rhaenyra’s jaw clench in anger and she ran her thumb across the other’s knuckles. Daemon stepped to stand on the other side of Rhaenyra and offered his arm to her.

“Come. We’ll go together.”

“I wonder if, for those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness.” Rhaenyra snapped, her breathing getting deeper.

Viserea kept quiet, agreeing with Rhaenyra’s words, but knowing her input would help nothing.

“Your father needs you… more now than he ever has.” Daemon said, looking to Viserea next, “Both of you.”

“We are not sons.” Rhaenyra said, dropping Viserea’s hand and stepping forward.

Daemon takes a step towards Viserea so they stand shoulder to shoulder. They both watch as Rhaenyra raises her head to speak and then pauses. Viserea can sense it before it happens and grabs Daemon’s wrist, stopping him from going to her again.

“Daor. (No.)” Viserea said, stopping Daemon. She knew Rhaenyra needed to do this on her own and that she would not appreciate the help.

“Dracarys.” Rhaenyra spoke. The dragon stepped forward, letting out a low moan, as if feeling Rhaenyra’s pain herself. A moment later and the dragon’s fire was cascading over the two pyres.

Viserea did not move from her spot as others began leaving the hill. She reassured Rhaenyra she would be inside soon and saw from the corner of her eye Alicent and Rhaenyra walk off together. Daemon did not move from Viserea’s side. When the hill finally emptied and the last of the smoke rose from the ashes left of the two members of their family, Viserea finally spoke.

“The gods are cruel. I have now attended four funerals for my family, and there is no positive to outweigh the grief. Rhaenyra and I both grieve the loss of a mother, I grieve the loss of a father, and the father Rhaenyra so desperately needs has never learned to appreciate her. ‘The Realm’s Delight’ they call her, and he has never opened his eyes to see how true those words are.”

“He loves her, loves both of you-“ Daemon started, though he was cut off by a harsh laugh from Viserea.

“I have no doubt in my mind that he loves us, but he does not love us the way he would have loved Baelon. He does not love me the way he loves Rhaenyra. He has already begun discussing possible future betrothals for Rhaenyra, but does not mention any for me. He may love us, but he treats her as no more than a political pawn and he does not even treat me as that. His first royal decree on the very day he was made King was that I was part of his family and I was to be treated in the same respect as Rhaenyra, and it is he himself who failed that.” Viserea’s words were laced with bitterness as she stared ahead with a few more fresh tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“The two of you do not see how much he truly loves you.” Daemon replied, his voice sincere.

“He did not notice anything was wrong with me at the tourney. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys noticed before he did. She was the one who put it together that I had another dream. Alicent noticed that something was wrong before he did! Alicent whom I do not speak to unless I must! The man who I am supposed to view as a father saw nothing wrong with me or his blood born daughter!” By the end of the rant, Viserea was shouting through tears and grateful that the hill was empty.

Viserea felt Daemon pull her towards him and she allowed herself to melt into his embrace and wrap her arms around him in return. After a couple minutes, Viserea had calmed down and she pulled away from him, wiping away any sign of her tears.

“You had another dream?” Daemon asked her, not commenting on her previous show of emotion.

“Yes. I called for you and Rhaenyra last night, but you were not there. I did not tell Rhaenyra the full extent of it and I never will. She doesn’t need to know what her mother went through in her final moments.” Viserea said, her tone surpassing its previous bitterness and turning to one bordering hate by the end.

“What was the full dream?” His voice was cautious, as if he was afraid that asking would only make her angrier.

“The babe was in breach. They were both going to die no matter what, but Aemma was never told that. He held her down like a pig for slaughter as the Maester suggested a new way being practiced in the citadel. She died terrified and in pain. Her screams will not leave my nightmares anytime soon.” Viserea told him.

“You do not plan to forgive him for this.” It wasn’t a question that Daemon asked. He already knew the answer.

“You and Rhaenyra are the only Targaryen family I have left.” Looking up at him, Viserea’s lilac eyes were cold and Daemon understood that her words were true to her.

[futbol16]

Make The First Move  • Fridolina Rolfö

Requests: the things i would do for a part 2 (or more:)) for princess charming/rölfö 

pls pls plscan we get a part 2 to princess charming?

Please let there be a part two. 

Word count: 3k

The long awaited part 2 to Princess Charming. I hope it was worth the wait :)

It’s not often that Fridolina stays up late. She almost never does. She valued her sleep too much to be awake for longer than necessary and everyone knew this. Which is why it surprises not only Mapi but also Magda, who’s three countries away from her, when they both get separate texts at 1am. 

Truthfully neither of her teammates should’ve been awake at this hour of the night either, but as the blondes’ eyes scan over the text, they think this is more important than getting their full eight hours of sleep. 

‘When did you know you were gay?’

Mapi’s first reaction is to grin, she grins so hard her lips almost split. She knows exactly why the Swede was asking such questions, or more so, who made her question it all.

Magda eyes the text with curiosity though, her brows furrowed together and her mouth hanging slightly agape. Was this real?

Meanwhile, Frido stares at her contacts list in nervousness as she bites at her nails, anxiously waiting for an answer from one of the two. She almost drops her phone on her face when it buzzes with notifications but she’s quick to reach for the device again. 

She gets two very different answers and she resists from rolling her eyes at one of them, only for the purpose of this actually being a serious topic for her.

‘I wasn’t completely sure until I met Pernille, but I knew the moment I looked into her eyes. Why, has anything happened?’ read the first from her captain and then her eyes moved lower to Mapi’s text.

‘Always. Girls are hot as fuck, respectfully. You fancy the German?’ her phone buzzes again.

‘Y/N Y/L/N is who I was referring to’ this time she doesn’t hold back the eye roll, though just a moment later she inhales sharply as she pictures your cocky smile in front of her. The blush that rises to her cheeks is inevitable and Fridolina pulls a face at her reaction, unsure how to digest her feelings. 

With a frustrated sigh the blonde drops her phone onto her nightstand face down and with another sigh she pulls the covers higher up her body. Frido allows herself to relax, ready to finally succumb to sleep. That doesn’t happen though, because she can’t let her mind rest. Or rather, her mind doesn’t allow her to rest. Her thoughts force her to stay awake for the next hour until exhaustion takes over her and her eyelids finally stay shut. 

The following days pass by in a similar manner; the blonde’s head in the clouds and her nails ruined from her constantly biting them. After Mapi’s initial text message, Frido assumed she would receive nothing but teasing remarks from the defender. And she did, Mapi León never one to disappoint in that area. However, she was pleasantly surprised when her friend decided to help her out, to help her figure out her feelings and her sexuality.

It was a big thing. The whole sexuality question. She had never questioned that part of herself before, always assuming that just like it was pictured in the films she grew up watching, she would have her blonde prince charming walk into her life one day and eventually there would be a ‘happily ever after’. 

It was crazy to think that all it took was one person for Fridolina to change her mind. Truthfully, it took one smile, one flash of your dazzling smile for her to pause for a moment and think about why there were butterflies in her stomach. Then it took her five days to come to terms with the possibility that you might’ve been her gay awakening. And on that same day, she realized that on top of all of that, she definitely had a thing for you. 

Some kind of thing. That’s all she could call it for now because it was so new to her, feeling like this towards a girl when she had never for a second questioned her sexuality in any way before.

Slowly though, Mapi helped her to understand these foreign feelings. Fridolina, in a weird way, was incredibly thankful for having so many gay teammates because they were all there for her, ready to answer any questions she had, ready to tell her about their own stories of ‘gay awakenings’. 

By the end of the month, she was comfortable enough with the knowledge that she wasn’t heterosexual and she allowed her friends’ teasing to resume. 

“So? Are you finally going to tell me who caused you to have your first ever gay panic?” Magda raised an eyebrow at her national teammate who couldn’t help but smile back at the screen of her phone.

“I don’t know” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” the captain’s voice cracked through the phone’s speakers. Fridolina bit back a smile, her mind already elsewhere as she thinks back to the night of that match against Bayern. The way you smirked at her after your goal, how your eyes sparkled in a playful way as she fell on you, hips flush together. 

‘Easy there, pretty girl’ your words echo in her head, your voice makes her go crazy in ways she didn’t think possible but she secretly likes the feeling.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Magda’s voice snaps her out of her daydreaming and her head snaps back towards the screen to find her captain smirking at her. Clearly, the deep blush coating her cheeks and the prolonged silence from her end of the call didn’t go unnoticed by the Chelsea captain. 

A sheepish look spreads across Frido’s face and she shrugs lightly, her smile confirming Magda’s question. 

“Come on tell me about herrr!” the excited whine makes both of them snicker before the taller of the two lets out a sigh, thoughts again occupied by you.

“She plays for Bayern Munich. And she’s strong, very strong - but all of them are, it’s like a Bayern thing - anyway. She looks so good in red. She’s like the next Alex Popp-” she’s cut off by a gasp, followed with a smack.

“Y/N Y/L/N?! SHE’S THE ONE?!” Magda exclaims loudly, gaining Pernille’s attention who’s sat a few feet away from her in the living room. Fridolina’s eyes widen, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“How did you-”

“Oh come on Frido, she's the top scorer in the Bundesliga and all of the German news is about her. ‘Y/N Y/L/N is the successor of German legend Alex Popp’. How do you not know?” the Swede recites the latest news article she’s seen and Pernille chuckles behind her girlfriend. 

“That just makes it sound like she’s Popp’s daughter” Frido pulls a face, once again. Magda now looks at her girlfriend and the two share a knowing look as she attempts to divert the topic of the conversation.

“Good choice though, very good taste” Pernille comments, now standing beside Magda as she rests an arm around her shoulders. Magda’s mouth falls open in mock hurt but the Dane is quick to ease her outburst. “What? I’m just saying she could have liked some weird hippie or something - I don’t know - as her first girl crush. Y/N’s a great choice.” 

“Yeah, I gotta give that to you” 

“Guys? I’m still here” Fridolina jokes but the two instead chuckle at her pink cheeks.

“We know, we’re talking about you in your presence.”  Magda shrugs cheekily before realization dawns on her and she grins at her Swedish teammate. “But this is perfect actually, you’ll get to see her soon!” 

“What are you talking about?” Fridolina almost drops the device in her hands, a sudden nervousness overcoming her senses.

“You guys have a friendly against the Germans this international break” Pernille informs her, seemingly knowing her schedule better than the Swede does. The couple eye their friend with slight concern as her face pales and brightens a shade of red at the same time. 

“Oh shit” 

Sure enough, just a week later Frido finds herself walking out behind her national teammates, clad in her yellow kit. She’s anxious as she subtly fidgets with the end of her shirt, yet as she turns her head to glance at your face, she knows it isn’t the game she’s nervous about. 

The match is pretty intense with both teams in their best forms but Germany manage to have more shots on goal than the Scandinavians. Unsurprisingly, it is you who scores the first goal of the game and when you celebrate you make sure to run past Fridolina, a smirk resting on your face as you raise an eyebrow in her direction. Frido can’t find it in herself to get upset at your antics, instead the tips of her ears redden and she tries to conceal the small smile on her face. 

It’s only when her eyes connect with her captain’s does she put on her game face again. She’d have time to admire you after the match. 

As much as the tall blonde tries to focus on the task at hand, it becomes apparent very quickly that she’s struggling. Just like last time, her gaze never wanders from you. It’s like you have some pull on her and more often than not the blonde has to snap back to reality after staring at you for just a bit too long. Her distraction doesn’t show in her play however, which she is incredibly thankful for but it isn’t enough for Sweden to equalize. 

The team clad in yellow does get one last chance to equalize before the final whistle would be blown and it’s in the form of a corner kick. Both teams crowd in the penalty box area and Merle Frohms can just barely see through the mass of footballers. 

The pull you seemed to have on Frido is now working in the opposite direction as you find yourself standing directly behind the blonde. It’s a tight space with both her and your own teammates pushing to get closer to one another and the goal, but amongst the many bodies, your hands find a place on your favorite Swede’s waist. 

Your hold is gentle yet firm - the opposite of your aggressive and intense style of play - and Frido immediately freezes at the touch, her eyes slightly widened and a light blush coating her cheeks. She takes a small step back as Hanna Glas’ ponytail swings in front of her and she finds herself pressed closer to you, your body heat warm against her back. 

Your own breath gets caught in your throat at close proximity and if the girl in your arms were to turn around she’d be met with a blushing mess, a rare sight from you. You swallow hard as your fingers twitch against her curves but you do pay attention to what is happening at the corner flag. 

Frido silently thanks her teammate for misplacing the ball and the referee whistling at her to fix the positioning, because it allows her to feel you close for just that bit longer. 

Her hands slowly come up to her waist and your hold loosens as you think she’s about to push your hands off. Fridolina is quick to grab them before they can leave her body and she holds them for just a second, contemplating what her move was going to be. However, your hands slip out of her fingers as you jump and head out the incoming ball from near your team’s goal.

 The blonde forward has her mouth hung open at the seemingly sudden and unexpected action. She lowers her head in embarrassment of not realizing that the corner had been taken and not doing her job at trying to head it in the goal. 

There’s not much time to dwell about her supposed mistake as just five minutes later the final whistle is blown, signaling the end of the friendly.

“Go to her” a voice rings out next to her while she shakes Lea Schüller’s hand and Fridolina turns to her captain. Magda nods her head towards your direction and her eyes follow. 

She’s met with the sight of your arm around Jule Brand’s shoulders, the young player leaning into your stronger body. The smile on your face is big and warm as you listen to Jule whose eyes shine with wonder as you press a kiss to the crown of her head. 

Fridolina’s insides melt at the protective and loving behavior from you, her heartbeat quickening as a smile washes over her expression.

“Are you sure I should?” 

“Ja, go Frido. This is your chance” Magda pushes at her shoulder gently, an encouraging expression on her face as she offers her friend a comforting smile. 

“Talk to her. She wants you too” the blonde nods in thought, wondering how Magda would know that, and her feet carry her towards you before she can think about quitting and turning around. 

The Wolfsburg player’s voice comes to a sudden halt as she eyes the Swedish woman in front of her, her head still resting comfortably on your shoulder. When Jule lifts her head and turns to you, it only takes her one look at the way you’re gazing at Rolfö and the curve of your smile to decide that she should leave the two of you alone.

“Good game” you break the silence as you stick your hand out. Fridolina’s smile is hard to miss as she takes hold of your hand but it soon turns into a nervous smile as her hand remains in your own. You’re not one to complain however and instead of letting go you gently pull on her hand.

“Come with me” you gesture towards the tunnel, far too aware of the amount of people watching from the stands of the stadium. The blonde gives you a nod and the two of you walk side by side holding hands as you hide in the tunnel. 

Thoughts are running wild as Magda’s words echo in Fridolina’s head. ‘This is your chance’ and with that the taller girl clears her throat as the two of you come to a stop in the tunnel of the stadium. Your eyes snap to her and for a moment the blonde gets lost in the warmth of your gaze. 

“So um… I wanted to tell you..” she exhales lowly, wondering how she was supposed to do this thing. You squeeze her fingers and she nods to herself. 

“I- really, uhm, I just…” Fridolina closes her eyes in frustration, dropping her head before picking it up again. The corners of your lips tick upwards, finding her nervous behavior absolutely adorable. 

When her eyes flutter open she’s met with your shimmering ones, a look of adoration plastered over your face. A hand reaches out to her face but Frido’s gaze doesn’t move from you as you gently push a strand of hair behind her ear, it having fallen out of her ponytail.

“Don’t stress that pretty head of yours.” your voice made her bite her lower lip and you smirked at the sight. 

“Just do it how you would if I were a man.” it seems like you knew exactly what made this so difficult for her. It also seemed that you knew exactly what she was going to say. ‘She wants you too’ and now she believes her captain’s statement, otherwise you wouldn’t be encouraging her to continue. 

“I can’t.” she huffed out and you chuckled quietly. “It’s different.”

“What makes it different? Other than the obvious” you reveled in the small laugh you got out of her, the sound easing the nervous tension radiating off the beautiful girl in front of you.

“I’d let him make the first move” Fridolina admitted and your smile widened as she seemed to have finally found her voice. 

You carefully placed a hand on her waist and you looked up at her in silent question, asking if what you were doing was okay. When all you received was a dazed look and a slow nod, you proceeded. The butterflies in the Swede’s stomach were going insane as you gently pulled her closer to you and her hands landed on your collar bone. 

“You’re so beautiful” you whispered, not wanting to break the bubble the two of you have created. At the same time you were thankful that both of your teams seemed to be taking their time on the pitch. Fridolina’s cheeks burned a deep shade of red at your compliment and she tilted her head to the side a little. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve never- this is just all so new to me, but I want to…” she trailed off in her confession and you nodded at her, feeling special that she allowed you to see her this vulnerable. You understood that it was difficult for her to voice just what she felt for you.

“It’s okay.” you gave her waist a gentle squeeze and smiled at the girl in front of you, the sparkle in your eyes never faltering. “We can take it as slow as you’d like”

The assurance made Frido’s heart swell yet she wanted nothing more than to allow herself to fall into your embrace. Her eyes lowered to your lips and her own mouth parted slightly. You watched how her eyes darkened and your smile was replaced with desire. 

“Maybe we can go faster” Frido breathed out as she leaned closer, your own gaze tracing the curve of her lips.

“Whatever you want” and with that you closed the last bit of distance and connected your lips. It was tentative at first as you allowed the blonde to test the waters but it seems like she already knows what she wants.

Frido’s brows knit together as pleasure courses through her whole body and her arms made their way around your neck to bring you even closer, effectively deepening the kiss. 

In that moment, with your bodies flushed and your arms around her waist holding her close and her lips attached to yours in desperation, Frido knows she has nothing to question.

You were her princess charming and she liked it that way.

[horizon-verizon]

I think the only way to minimally fix something is for Jaehaera to catch Maelor's death, at least helaena won't kill herself for any reason, but because she lost her daughter.

"jaehaera is the only heir of aegon ii" Yes; but this was never discussed in HOTD where aemond was automatically chosen as his brother's heir and her name wasn't even considered so.. Ryan doesn't care about that! no one even says what the girl's name is during the entire 2nd season let's be real here she's just a random silver girl with no name WTF

Anon refers to the deleted post GRRM wrote.

Have you read the book, anon?

Jaehaera was never considered Aegon's official heir even in the orig story (he never proclaimed her as such, he even went as far as to to marry a Baratheon to try to produce another boy), but Aemond was named Prince Regent....not his heir, ever. He was never "chosen" to be heir.

Official Heirs vs possible heirs are different; the first are those officially going to be the next leader, ruler, etc, while the latter are any existing children of the reigning monarch or their closest relatives in the line of succession.

And Jaehaera is important for the post-war shenanigans and events...she even marries Aegon, Rhaenyra's son, and her death by (very likely, assured even) at the hands of a former green, Unwin Peake, is pretty significant...so anon, what you suggest is not going to "fix" HotD, esp then HotD has long been "unfixable" when they started to veer from canon thru Rhaenicent, Rhaenyra's personality, Daemon's characterization, Alicent's power in court, etc. Because the whole point was that Ryan simply didn't want to adapt the Dance the way it was "reliably" recorded or he didn't care as much as to show off his supposed writer's/marketer's prowess. HotD broke off from making events "[serve a ] purpose, it all helps to tie the story lines together, so one thing follows another in a logical and convincing manner" in several plot holes and on consistencies or severely underdeveloped plots they had in S1, even apart from just lore-breaking.

Like Maleor's death, Jaehaera's death is necessary for certain events--like the secret siege, Maiden's Ball, Baela-Rhaena power-riding into the Red Keep, Alicent's attempt at assassinating Aegon, etc.--to happen. So no...Jaehaera should not take the place of her brother Maelor as if these two are exchangeable.

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 164- Blood Rage

Summary: Rosie stuns Josie. Legolas is stunned as well by Josie's changing behavior. She and Rahl come face to face and blade to blade after he pushes her last button. Another rune appears on Josie's body but who is drawing them for her? Another symbol could hold the answer. Rahl soon realizes what Josie is capable of. Legolas, where are you?

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, mentions of rape, violence, sexual references

Chapter characters: Josie, Rosie, Legolas, Bash, Charles, Narcisse, Claude, Catherine, Rahl, Killer,

Chapter word count: 6,086

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist:

There was still no sign of Narcisse and you were getting ready to go find Bash when you smelled the very sweet, pungent aroma of roses like you had earlier when you saw the little girl who called herself Rosie.

Upon following the scent that led you to the foyer, there by the wall, sat the reddish haired child on a bench all alone and looking very melancholic.

"R...Rosie?"

"Hello." she softly greeted as her big round ocean like orbs met yours.

"Are you lost little one?" You asked as you pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her.

She shyly giggled. "I'm not little one, you are silly."

"What's that? you replied, somewhat befuddled.

She lowered her head and whimpered quiet cries as she nervously played with her fingers.

"Sweetheart, why do you cry?"

You reached out to comfort her and as your hand went to lay upon hers, it went right through it, just as Rahl's apparition had moved right through you.

Gasping, you yanked your hand back. "Are...are you even real?"

"Not yet." she sniffled. "I never will be if you don't find my daddy."

"Your daddy? Who is your daddy honey?"

"Josie? Who are you talking to?" Legolas asked as he came up behind you with a tilted head and furrowed brows.

You flung to your feet, holding your chest in fright.

"Jesus Legolas! I know you're an elf, but do you have to be of such stealth ALL the freaking time?"

The Prince's stance stiffened in surprise at your scolding.

"I..I'm sorry? I did not mean to startle you. Josie, are...are you alright?"

"I am fine. Why wouldn't I be??"

"Well...because you were speaking to...a wall?"

Your eyes widened and you spun back around to find the little girl gone, but her scent still lingered.

"Oh..umm. Yeah, I was just...talking to myself. Haven't you ever done that?"

"Actuallyyyy...no. Josie...I am worried about you. Lola...she informed me that you had cut your hand and that the healing waters did not mend the wound. It burned you? Is that why you are wearing gloves?"

"Stealthy and nosy as well. It's a cut, big deal and I don't have time for this nonsense. Have you seen Narcisse at all after you left your gossip session about me and god knows what else that took place in front of MY daughter with the ever so lustful Lola?"

Legolas could now see something was indeed wrong with you, for you had never spoken to him in such a manner, not even over his bickering with Haldir that always annoyed you or even about his unwanted opinions on Garrett. Slightly offended and hurt, the Elvenprince decided he would happily tell you what he had learned about Lord Narcisse in hopes that you would finally see what he had been trying to show you about the warlock all along.

"I did not. But Lola has. In a lip lock with Catherine's daughter Claude earlier tonight."

The reaction Legolas expected was certainly not what he received. He expected anger and disgust, which he did get a glimpse of in your gaping eyes, but mostly, they were filled with jealousy. Why, he wondered? For he did not know about your recent relations with Narcisse, but the perplexed Prince of Mirkwood did now as your broken shield allowed your thoughts of that night to run openly wild.

"And she told YOU this and not me?? Of course she did. Anything for you Legolas, right?"

"Why do you speak of her in this way, or myself for that matter? Has Narcisse done something more to you beyond sharing his bed, bath and body that you clearly accepted and indulged in??"

Your eyes slitted at him as your lips pursed tight.

"Legolas...Greenleaf. Now that you know how to invade my thoughts, it does not give you some elfy claim on my mind! If I had my powers right now, I would turn you upside down and use your luscious locks as a mop!!" you threatened, then huffed as you marched off, leaving Legolas with a dropped jaw.

Down the hall you stormed to the ballroom to pour another drink and as you rounded the corner, there stood Catherine looking as stunned as you were to see Claude sitting upon Narcisse's lap.

It was the only moment you could ever share the same feelings as that wretched old woman in wanting to castrate the warlock lord just as he had done to Ashir for taking advantage of Claude just as he himself was doing. Of course, you knew it wasn't him, but it pissed you off nonetheless. As far as Claude, you felt no ill towards her, for it was quite clear in the way she leered at a gawking Catherine, that she was only trying to stick it to her for pulling her into her mother's mess and also...you sympathized with Claude, because you knew what it was like to be used by your own mother and to be taken against your will by a man. It changed you and it seemed to be changing the young Princess too.

It seemed your keen senses still worked, quite well actually, if not better for some reason and you could hear Stephane's words to the red haired beauty as his animal eyes ogled her cleavage.

"Since it seems I am...unattached...would you gather my cape for me Princess and meet me in my chambers?"

Claude did as he asked and glanced back at Catherine in a victorious manner as she exited. Narcisse offered a matching demeanor as he raised his glass to to a fuming Catherine, then he caught your eyes.

With a grin and a wink, he knocked the drink back and also departed. Something told you by the devious gleam in Stephane's eyes, the eyes leading to the soul that Rahl held captive, that the evil alter was just getting started with his diabolical deeds and there would be much more to come.

As Catherine began to go after them, your raced past her, purposely and harshly grazing her arm with yours, enough to make her stumble to the side and leaving her gasping as she watched you dash around the doorway and disappear.

You quickly lost sight of Narcisse and Claude, but saw Bash and Charles from the distance, geared up and exiting the main entrance of the castle, heading out in search for Delphine in the city as Bash had promised you he would do.

"Bash!!" you shouted, out of breath as you ran down the hall and out the door only to see the two warlocks riding off on their horses.

"Oh god. Please be safe." you fearfully whispered as they disappeared into the darkness, for you did not know Bash was going to take Stephane's son with him.

They were doing this for you and if anything happened to them, you would never forgive yourself and Narcisse...well, you didn't even want to think about what he would do. He had already flipped out when his brother had been hurt by Harker and now his son would be put in danger. Charles had powers though that could help protect them and also, Aragorn, Bard and Gimli were in the city too, looking for Haldir, so you felt that it all could be a good thing, that maybe they would all find each other.

On your way to Stephane's chambers, without one ounce of fear in you at the possibility of facing down the fanged and ferocious feline, you passed a crying and very frightened Claude.

"Claude?? What has happened? Did he hurt you???"

"There is something very wrong with Lord Narcisse. You need to stay far far away from him." she sobbed and sniffled.

"Ok, ok. Try to relax and tell me what happened."

"He's lost his damn mind. That's what's happened. His rules are to use no black magic here, which as you know, is why my mother and I had been punished, yet the hypocritical cretin just used it upon me. I could feel it. The pull, to get me to give him my body."

"Narcisse...he is not quite...himself lately and you're right in a sense about him losing his mind. Long story. But..how..how did you manage to get away?"

"Something distracted him as he groped me. It was like...it was like he sensed something and stopped himself. Possibly you? I think he knew you were near."

"Or Stephane..." you mumbled.

You now thought that it may have been Stephane fighting back against Rahl and that's why he ceased his advances on Claude and if that were the case, then you might have a chance at bringing him back.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing...just go be with your baby and lock your doors for the night. And please, keep this to yourself. I will go speak with him."

"Are you mad?? What if he tries something on you too??"

"Oh, I can handle the man in that room. Trust me. Now go."

Strangely, Narcisse now had guards at his chamber door and as you approached, one opened the door for you without a word which confirmed to you that he knew you were coming and that he wanted to see you....but you were expecting to see Stephane because Claude did not mention his appearance. Surely she would have if he looked as you now saw him when Rahl himself, in the flesh, acknowledged your presence before you even spoke.

"Hello Josephine, or should I call you...Jo?"

The warlock lord of long chocolate locks stood with his back to you, then turned around with a succulent smile and sparkling sapphire eyes. He wore a collared and sleeveless red robe that accentuated his bare, muscular arms that had a sun kissed sheen from the firelight. Minus the provocative, uncovered skin, his attire reminded you of Thranduil's, as the upper half of the garment was form fitting and then blended into a loosely flowing skirt from the waist down to the floor. The neckline was of a typical flared collar and quite provocative as it openly descended in a gold trimmed V line to the waist, revealing his smooth chiseled chest and sculpted stomach. Apparently, Rahl was just as proud of his physical form as Stephane was, but clearly very much more.

"Only Stephane calls me that and YOU are not him."

"I will agree with you there. I am not my alter."

"He is not your alter. You are his!"

"Are you sure about that? I am very much aware that my meddling brother has revealed my identity to you and I know of his plans for this night and he will surely pay for that, but Sebastian knows not what he speaks of."

"Well I do. My mother created you with her black magic out of that damn book! You're not even real."

"Correction my fellow and quite lovely witch. I am very real. I existed long before Caroline used that lovely little spell to strengthen me."

"And I will find Ashmole to send you back to hell. I know all that you have done. Stephane is good. You are pure evil. A murderer. You exist because Stephane couldn't handle the things his father made him do and in that despair and desperation to protect himself, his mind, unknowingly to him, broke in two, creating someone who could please his father so he could be relieved of his mental suffering. You are merely a figment of his imagination, per se. My father ended you and you were only resurrected again because of Jareth."

"Ahhh, correction again my dear girl. I exist because I am the strong one. It is I, Darken Rahl, that stands before you, not my opposite, the pathetic and weak warlock you know and love, which is why it was so easy to reclaim my body, my soul, with of course, the aid from the goblin King. What you are right about though is MY father. Yes. Also a murderer...of my mother and I handled him. He got everything he deserved and now he can rot in the hell you threaten to send me to, which will never happen. If you kill me, you kill Stephane."

"I don't believe that at all. He didn't die before when you were banished. Do you even hear yourself? Stephane is the true and only identity. You will die, not him. And are you sure your father is where you believe him to be?? It would seem that Jareth has brought back all the evil ones to join his army of the dead. I would not be surprised if your daddy dearest was one of them."

Rahl folded his hands together over his stomach, fidgeting with his ring just as Narcisse would do, and then he approached you with a confident grin.

"If my father were to walk the earth again, I will just handle him once more. But with that said, Jareth merely opened the gates of hell. The dead do not have to return if they so choose. Being the coward my father is, I do not expect to see him. He has many enemies and many of his foes are the dead that have chosen to come back. You see, evil does not always play well with other evil. The living cannot kill them but the risen dead can indeed die by the hands of other dead. They won't all be a united army of allies. Some will kill each other and they can never return again. By the power of three times three, the twice born will see that twice dead is forever. Ashmole and those runes are not solely needed."

Your heart sank as you instantly thought of Thranduil. You knew he would never choose to be one of the dark ones, even if it meant being with you and his daughter. It was a feeling of relief but simultaneously the heaviest of heartaches. Your unanswered question to Legolas had been answered. You would not see your King again and the sadness of that vindication turned to anger.

"It will be needed for you and I will find it! I will bring Stephane back and he will help me rid of you and this curse upon him and myself. He's far from weak. His powers ignite mine and mine his."

Rahl chuckled in his amusement. "Yet you have no power. And he no more wants that book found than I do or he would have given it to you long ago."

You saw it in the wicked warlock's eyes. The real reason he chose to come back.

"Ahh, so that is why you are here. To probe Stephane's mind because he knows where Ashmole is and you don't."

"There are things we all do not know...Queen...Josephine." Rahl retorted with a smug grin, for he was now simply toying with you to distract you. "Tell me, how is that sweet child of mine, Lola?"

"What???"

"I thought that would get your undivided attention. Lady Lola, the meek one you have taken under your wing. She is my daughter. Her mother, Jocelyn, I believe you knew her quite well."

"You're...you're lying! You're just fucking with me because it gets you off to screw with people. Her mother can't be the Jocelyn I knew. How is that even possible??"

"Oh, it's very possible. There's so much you do not know but I'm not much up to explaining anymore to you, for your dirty words have made me feel a bit...aroused. I would most definitely love to fuck with you. It would easily get me off, yes. Maybe we could meet for a ...bath...later?" Rahl proposed in a slithering manner as he teased a lock of your hair between his fingers.

You realized you had stupidly set yourself up for that one and it now became clear to you that Rahl had all of Stephane's memories but Stephane did not have all of Rahl's from what Bash had explained. If it were even true, Stephane obviously didn't even know Lola was his daughter and you could see why Jocelyn wouldn't have told him. Did Rahl do to Jocelyn what he had just tried to do to Claude? And what about Sarah? How did she end up with Jocelyn and not Lola? Your mind was spinning like a top. And as far as the whereabouts of Ashmole, Stephane had it deeply hidden in his mind just as well as he had it hidden somewhere in his castle and you now understood as to why he didn't tell you where it was. Would it kill him too? Like Rahl said? Was Rahl really the sole proprietor of the body before you?

Forcing your thoughts away, you grabbed his wrist, the wrist that held the same butterfly birthmark as Stephane's.

"Don't you ever touch me without my permission. Just ask Stephane how that turned out for him once upon a time."

Chuckling again, Rahl ignored your warning and yanked you into his arms. "I don't have to ask him. I already know. You can abuse me. Trust me, I like being slapped."

The hot pepper of his breath and the voodoo in his dilated eyes, rendered you helpless in his firm grip. It was his poison inside of you. He was using it to his advantage and in that moment, you pleaded with Stephane.

"Stephane, I know you are in there. I know you can hear me. Help me, please. You are stronger than him. You are the real one, not him. You are the one that knows me and loves me. You fought him once when he attacked me in his beast form. You can do it again."

As your tearful eyes gazed into Rahl's cold ones, his pupils began to soften and his head dropped.

"Jo..my Jo? Is that you?" he whispered in struggled breaths.

"YES! Yes it is me Stephane. Fight him! You can do it!"

Rahl's head hung immobile for a few seconds and then it slowly rose with yellow eyes of the devil himself.

"You foolish witch!" Rahl reveled with a livid laugh. "Did you really think it was that simple? All I had to do was remind him of Haldir's lips on yours and it instantly shut him down. I am the one in control here and I want to taste once more what he had... and what I want, I get."

"You're the fool! Don't you mean what YOU had?? Since you're one and the same??? But you're NOT the same and he is proving it!"

Your rage was enough to push him off of you, but he grabbed you right back up, helpless once again and weaker, for his mental and poisonous power was draining you and Stephane knew it.

Suddenly, you were shoved with great force, onto your back as another ferocious cat appeared, but it wasn't the jet black panther, it was a snowy white tiger of illuminating beauty and gentle ice blue eyes that flickered in the firelight as they preyed upon yours with love.

You felt solace in that moment, even without ever knowing this side of Stephane, for you knew now and understood his symbolic ring he wore and his love of cats and you smiled at him courageously, knowing the giant black striped carnivore was no threat to you at all, but there to help you. Stephane's cowardly guards though, selfishly ran for their lives, slamming the door behind them. They must have faced the white tiger before.

You didn't know much about tigers, but what you did know was that they could not purr like a domestic cat, only roar. But this was different. This was magic. Stephane was magic. Soft, rumbling vibrations from the cat's throat echoed through the room as he approached you so humbly in a graceful, tender pace, trying not to frighten you.

When he reached you, Narcisse stood still, towering over your body as his peppermint breath tickled your nose and his blazing blue eyes slowly and softly blinked into yours, a cat's sign of trust. He then lifted his enormous furry forepaw and extended it towards your injured hand, gently grazing your fingertips with retracted claws and in that moment, light blue sparks flickered about as they always did when your hands would touch each other. The magic was still there and you knew what he was was trying to do. To heal you and bring yours back. He was the antidote to Rahl's venom, the light over the dark, the yang over the yin, but you soon would realize it was not the electricity you needed.

You removed your lace glove and bravely caressed his beastly chops and as you did so, your fingertips once again lightly sparked against him, bringing forth a sorrowful soft roar as he closed his eyes and nudged his head into your neck. You stretched your arms up and an embraced him tightly as you whispered into his sensitive ear.

" It's ok Stephane. This is not your fault. I knew you could hear me. I knew you could fight him, but for how long?? We will help each other. I will find a way. I won't let him hurt you. This is so crazy because you and he are the same being and I'm scared that if I hurt him, I will hurt you like he said would happen."

Narcisse stepped back, leaning one forearm inwards and bowed to you. You then understood that he was telling you to do whatever was necessary to defeat the dark lord. He then brought his wet snout to your hand and his tongue began to extend to lick your wound, making you realize it was his peppermint saliva that would counteract the venom....but it never happened.

Before his warm sandpaper papillae could reach your incision, a deathly looking man you had never seen before, with bold black hair like Rahl's, appeared out of nowhere and blew Silverbane into Narcisse's face.

You shook and cried as you helplessly watched Stephane paw at his eyes and roll around in pain, but it was short lived, for in a matter of seconds, an uninjured Darken Rahl stood before you once again....and that told you right there that he was not real, that he was not the one with the soul, but did that mean Stephane would not be harmed if Rahl were? None of it made sense because they shared the same skin, but...did magic ever make sense??

"So sorry to ruin your beautiful reunion." Rahl spoke with extreme sarcasm. "But the fun is over now. Stephane had his moment and let me assure you, it will never happen again. Let me introduce you to my faithful and loyal servant, Killer. A name quite deserving."

Rahl turned to the man you believed to be one of the resurrected and judging by his pale skin and the gray tint around his dark eyes, he had been dead for a very long time.

"A job well done as always, Killer....unlike Stephane's cowardly guards." Rahl commended with a snarl.

The man did not speak. He simply smiled and bowed his head.

"Now, where were we."

Rahl turned back to you, not expecting to see what he did.

"Never turn your back on a witch!" you exclaimed, holding the blade in an attack stance, that you had concealed under your dress, strapped to your leg.

A light breeze flowed over you from the open window above as the growing moon cast it's light over you, recharging you just as Stephane's touch did and illuminating a newly formed rune on your upper arm that meant courage in combat, although you did not know this yet or how it got there just like the one on your neck meaning strength and even though you knew this revitalization would be temporary, it could be enough time for you to show Rahl exactly who you were.

Rahl's smile was wide and his eyes thrilled. "A feisty one! I can see why Stephane was drawn to you. Desires you. A worthy opponent you are indeed. I too like games. A rare similarity he and I share. And I can see you and I share one as well. Clair de lune. (Moonlight).

He turned his back on you once more, to prove to you he did not fear you as he gazed up and the earth's neon night light, letting the rays shower over him through the crystalline prism in the window's center.

"Ahhhhh..." he softly and sensually moaned, rolling his eyes back as it struck him like a fortuitous wet dream while he too soaked the captivating energy into his body.

"The winter solstice will be upon us soon and last into the new year. Do you see the two constellations over the moon Josephine? The third will appear that night when the moon is full, a union of body, mind and spirit, forming a triangle of stability and power if the point is facing up, instability if down and reproduction if inverted, all symbolizing what Jareth has brought forth. A power like no other. Right now, all is unstable in the three week Sagittarius retrograde, causing all to rotate backwards, creating the negative energy I so love as it incites various wars of the world and mind."

The birthmark on your lower back was of identical triangular form and once again, it was burning. What was happening? Whatever it was, it was definitely inciting something in you. Something wicked.

"Well guess what Rahl? I'm a Sagittarius bitch!"

He turned back to you with a full grin of pearly whites.

"So, let us play, shall we. Winner gets choice of position. Personally, I like to take my prey from behind."

Rahl walked over to a table that a full length sword laid upon and as he ran his fingers over it, he noticed Killer glaring at you. He then raised his hand, shaking two fingers at him.

"Stay. I want to see what she's got."

Rahl fearlessly approached you with the blade in hand, lowered and hanging at his side and then he stopped about two arm lengths before you with a seductive smile as he leered into your angry eyes.

"To be fair, your short blade is no match for the one of my...length. Take this."

His sexual double standards were beginning to irritate you, enough so that it was even exciting you and that pissed you off even more. The only attraction you had to him was because he was Narcisse under that disguise.

"It is not the length that matters, it's how you use it." you riposted with a smug grin to match his innuendos.

"Ahhh clever one. That may be in the bedroom, but I assure you it is not for a game of fencing. Are you really that confident with your lack of experience? Afraid you can't handle a sword of such...size?"

You knew he was right. What experience did you have in a sword fight? You certainly lost to your King that day in the clearing with a short blade while training for the fight with the dark elves. Sure, Thranduil was the most skilled of elves with any weapon, so you never really had a chance to begin with and sure enough, with an invisible strike, he had knocked the blade clean out of your hand to prove it. With that thought, you then submitted to Rahl's offer.

You lifted your dress, revealing your bare leg to the eyes of a very attentive Rahl and placed your sword back into the strap, then, with pursed lips and a fixated stare, you swiped the sword from his hand.

"Come... with me my lady."

Rahl led you through an open back doorway of his chambers that led down a flight of stairs to a colossal cave like room filled with fire lit lanterns all over the stone walls and a dirt floor that appeared to be for fighting.

He then unsheathed his sword and smiled once, his eyes intrigued and possibly even intimidated as they remained locked in your intense gaze, then simultaneously, your blades loudly clanked as they united with two hard strikes, the jolt sending a painful numbing sensation through your hand and arm. This was nothing like your archery lesson with Stephane. Was Rahl trying to do the same? Teach you?

"Still want to continue, little one?"

"Don't you ever call me that!" you raged, thinking of Garrett, and swung at him again.

"Good girl Josephine...use that venom I gave you!"

Around in circles you both went, your feet scuffling through the dirt and your hits keeping up with his until one swift swing of his sword knocked yours to the ground and you found yourself pinned against a pillar with a blade to your throat.

"Why Josephine, I just don't think you're angry enough." Rahl snared through his teeth.

"Don't you know anger blinds you??"

Those were words of wisdom Thranduil had planted into your mind multiple times and you knew it to be so very true. Although, if used rationally, a skill quite hard to grasp in a bout of adrenalized rage, it could be an advantage.

An impromptu sock to his cock and another to his throat, freed you instantly and as Rahl huddled over gasping, you reclaimed your sword. As you swung it, his revival was perfectly punctual and round and round you both dueled again.

"Cheap trick Josephine. I love wicked witches. I like it rough. You would make me a splendid Queen in more ways than one." he huffed through the strikes as he began to physically sweat.

You had hit him where it hurt physically and now you would target his manhood mentally.

"I will never be your Queen, for your cock will never measure up to my King Thranduil's! Now that was a prize penis, you egotistical fuck."

The look on the warlock's pride scorned face was priceless to you and it gave you the opening you planned for.

With a screaming swift swipe, you knocked HIS sword to the ground this time.

As you pointed the piercing edge at his throat, his eyes widened and his pupils gaped of darkness like that of the panther you expected to soon encounter once again.

Instead...Rahl's angered lips formed into a grin and then...he was gone.

Behind you he appeared, stalking you like a cat ready to pounce. You spun around only to have your sword ripped from your hand as if he were a man sized magnet and then you were gripped firmly by the throat.

The electricity was still there between yours and Stephane's body and Rahl's hand lit up with blue bolts of audible energy, sending his own charged up packing punch right through you and then you could feel your feet leaving the ground as you were lifted by his stupendous strength.

"Chea..ter." you choked and gasped as you helplessly smacked and tugged at his magnetized fingers. "What happ..ened...to..f...fair? I...have no..m..m..magic."

"Oh, in my games, it is no holds barred. Let's see you get yourself out of this one...wise...witch! Better think fast before your lights go out." he viciously teased as held up your emerald pendant by it's severed chain with his other hand and chucked it across the room.

Think...it was something you now struggled with as the air was being snuffed out of you and your body pulverized by electricity. You had no lifeline now, nothing. Nothing but the unexpected and relentless rage that sparked in your very soul.

In that moment, your eyes filled with blood just as Garrett's had when you saw his true vampire form take over and attack Narcisse's guards. Was this coming from him?? Because you shared his vampire blood? Did Rahl's venom or electricity ignite it? Whatever it was, you could not control it.

Rahl lowered and released you, then he backed away in shock as you stood almost trance like with a death glare upon him and his servant.

Killer's black eyes and mouth gaped wide as did Rahl's. "It's the blood rage. She...she's a weaver! She can kill us both. Run my lord!"

Both warlocks raced up the stairs while you picked up your sword and pendant, then followed them at a casual, slow pace, as if you were under some spell, or maybe your mind just plain snapped like Stephane's once had? Your thoughts were clear but your ability to control your actions were gone. It was like something out of the movie Carrie....like you were possessed.

As you appeared in the doorway of Narcisse's chambers, Killer was gone and Rahl was standing in the middle of a pentagram painted in red on the floor, chanting some kind of spell. He whipped around when he sensed you and then blue flames suddenly erupted around him. It was then that you realized the cowardly warlock was dipping.

"AHHHHH!!!" you screamed and charged at him with your sword raised, proving your advice about irrational anger, for you weren't even thinking of how you could hurt Stephane if you hurt Rahl, but just as you swiped the blade at his face, Rahl threw his head back and disappeared.

Rahl made his way to a private corridor and stood befuddled as his fingers lightly traced the superficial slash on his cheek. He tried to regroup with his thoughts, for now they were all in a state of disarray at what he just witnessed. The wide warlock had no inkling whatsoever that you were a weaver and it became clear to him that you did not know either.

Moments after, two of his guards entered the room.

"My lord. Has something happened?"

"The witch Queen is a weaver." he muttered as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror.

"You mean...like a...spider??"

Rahl's head turned to him ever so slowly with a dumfounded look in his sullen eyes.

"No you oaf! But if she were...she would be a deadly one. A weaver is a witch with the only power to kill the dead, besides the dead themselves, either physically or by magic, without Ashmole and the runes, although she would still need it for the vast majority of them. She has the power to create any spell she chooses as well, but she is unaware of it. Now that I know what she is, I will be prepared to handle her as is, but she must never regain her powers. Especially with the blood rage gene inside of her. If only I had known about it before inducing it with my venom."

"If she can end your existence my lord, then why do you not just end hers? Besides, would she really hurt you and risk killing Stephane?"

"Look at my face you imbecile!! If I hadn't moved back in time, I would be headless!! It was the blood rage. If not for that, she would have been able to control her emotions. They make her strong but so very dangerous. She would never risk Stephane's life otherwise. I want her alive. She will be of great use to me. Keep a close eye on her while I am out. I need to go handle another situation in the city."

"Yes my lord."

The guards bowed and departed and soon, so did Rahl to hunt down his brother.

You were long gone from Narcisse's chambers, lost and wandering about the empty halls, dazed, confused and trembling as you came down from the adrenaline high.

You called out, pleading to Legolas in your mind as your feet shuffled along the floor, hoping he would hear you. He was all you had now in the entire world and you felt you may have lost him too after how you had treated him earlier. You didn't even know how it happened. It just...happened.

"Josie?? Where are you???" was the last thing you heard before you hit the ground.

@redeemer46

[moseslikellamas]

Thorn of Winterfell pt. 2

Pairing - Stark!OC x Benjicot Blackwood

Summary - The march to war continues with a stop at the Twins and then Raventree hall.

Warnings - some depictions of violence, lore™️, sketchy depictions of medieval hierarchies, spoilers too I suppose. I won’t be completely following cannon but I’m drawing heavily from it.

Word count- 2.1k

Everyone say thank you awoiaf.westeros.org, we love you awoiaf.westeros.org for providing all the lore in an easily accessible manner. Picture is of the unimpressed Syana

Syana decided she liked Forest Frey's wife. She was a young woman not much older than her. She was a loud and funny woman who was charming without trying to be. Sabitha didn’t take any shit from anyone. She was domineering to the men and graciously sweet to the women. Syana got the sense the woman would ride out to war herself if she had the option. But she had a good attitude about it, joking that the twins would screech to a halt if she so much as took a stroll about the gardens. She meant it as an exaggeration joke but her underlying tone suggested it was not.

“Come on you great lot of boring louts! We’ve got a single night and who knows what will come to pass after you leave these halls. Let us have some music and dancing!” The glare she sent about the room when no one moved, set everyone to their feet.

Syana danced first with the prince Jacaerys who looked more and more strained by the hour, his face set in a permanent pout.

“The riverlands are going to think you’ve let the north smother your fire if you keep frowning like that, my prince.”

He set his jaw even tighter, his hand squeezing hers tightly while they spun around the room.

“I should go. Fly back to my mother and talk to her.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes at him. They’d been over this a million times already.

“Lord Dustin doesn’t think its a good idea. You heard him, we don’t know where Aemond is or if he’s watching the skies to Dragonstone. But you can’t outfly him if he is. We know they desperately want what we have, Harrenhal. You can help us here, my prince. Besides, your mother hasn’t seen fit to call you back.”

He shot her a dark glare before sighing deeply. “You’re right of course. I just can’t stand waiting.”

Syana knew he hadn’t taken any time to process his brother's death. There was no time for it, they were marching now and before long many more would be dead. Forrest Frey had taken two hundred knights and six hundred infantrymen with him to join with the three hundred Blackwood archers at Harrenhal led by Rob Rivers, bastard brother of Lord Samwell. Said to be one of the best bowmen in the riverlands. She hoped they had already arrived and that the road ahead of them was clear. Another force was waiting for them at Raventree hall with the heir. Another young man like her brother, called Benjicot. Endearingly referred to as Bloody Ben, for his penchant for carnage. His father had been killed during the battle of the burning mill, Sabitha had told them sadly.

“Come on my prince, you must’ve had many dancing lessons. Show a girl a good time before she heads to war will you?”

He smiled ruefully at her but stepped back at the end of the song before leaving the hall altogether. She left the floor to find her brother, who was hiding behind a stone column pretending not to hear the music playing.

“You know, you might try dancing with one of them.” She nodded her head towards the gaggle of Frey women obviously looking at her brother and giggling.

Cregan frowned, uninterested. He didn’t bother to look at the women. And she felt for him, his wife had been his childhood best friend. A love that couldn’t be easily set aside. They all loved Rickon but the hole Arra left in their life was cavernous. The little heir often resembled his mother in the most painful ways.

“Not every woman can have the steel of a northerner brother and likely none as fierce as Arra. But there’s another out there for you.”

He raised a brow at her, pinning her with his stare. “And what about you? Plenty of men pining away for a chance with you.”

Syana hadn’t found a single man who didn’t bore her to tears.

“They do not make real men of quality anymore brother. It's all brutes and fools, I'm afraid. Would that I could switch with you. I’d rather search for a lady.”

“I think Sabitha is looking for a woman.” Her brother replied.

She smacked his chest, smiling. “Shh. She’s like to hear you and then you won’t make it through the night.”

The two of them laughed for a moment, basking in a sense of normalcy that only comes with family.

“We ought to sleep.”

And there was her brother back to his normal serious self but she agreed. They bid Sabitha a good night, she had winked at Syana behind her brother's back, and they departed together.

***

Syana woke before dawn and dressed quickly. There was a chill in the air that did not bode well for them. Outside mist hung heavy in the air, obscuring the troops as they headed out. She was on her horse Shadow, all of the Starks were on horses. They bred them specifically and started children riding once they could toddle. Syana was good with her bow on her horse but pretty useless when it came to sword fighting on horseback. She preferred to pull back, reorient herself so as to utilize her bow. If that failed, she was expertly good at knife throwing. Though untested as of yet in actual battle.

Since they had set out from Winterfell she'd been buzzing mentally. A dull thrum of adrenaline was ever constant. She hadn’t slept well due to it. The knowledge that they could be attacked at anytime set her teeth on edge and she kept checking the skies for any signs of dragons. When Jace took to the sky, she didn’t feel any better about it. She just started looking specifically for Vhaegar, nervous for Vermax.

Myrian did not help the ominous feeling in the air by sniffing every few minutes and saying in disgust, “Something’s gone foul in the Riverlands and it's not the bodies.”

“What do you mean? What bodies?”

Myrian had simply stared at her with that too knowing look the Crannogmen often had. Presumably she was referring to the bodies from the burning mill but Syana knew Myrian did not always say what she meant.

“The winds are full of the smell of dead stones.” She settled on eventually repeating.

Syana didn’t have the patience for fortunes and prophecies. No one ever interpreted them right and they usually died in some horrific manner anyway. She just nodded sympathetically at her friend and continued on.

***

It had taken them a fortnight to reach Raventree hall and the last leg had been wracked by storms that rivaled the stormlands. It had been so miserable and muddy. Every person in the troop tramped wherever they stayed into a mess of deep thick mud.

It was muggy and humid. Syana wore her hair in two braids down her back but she had hair plastered to the side of her neck and face with sweat. She was wearing the thinnest clothes she owned but they were still too thick in the heavy air. They’d been let inside the castle walls and after stabling their horses, set out to meet the new Lord of Raventree hall. Who had not come to meet them. But her expectations were not high of someone nicknamed ‘bloody’ anything. Her brother was not impressed though, he seemed a bit miffed about it. She had to hide her laugh with a cough.

They found the Lord in the yard, fighting. Of course he was, she rolled her eyes. He was fighting four on one though and absolutely destroying his opponents. He seemed to know where they were going to move before they did it and he used that to confuse them. A pair smacked into each other, their heads knocking together in a comical display that seemed out of place when he hit a man with the hilt of his sword so hard in between the eyes she heard the bone crunch. For the last guy he threw his sword aside, bared his teeth like an animal and advanced before ripping the man's sword from his hands and using it to cut a delicate slice just under his eye. He then held the tip inches from the man's eyeball.

“Do you yield?”

The man, obviously terrified, yielded.

Syana stood there with a disgusted look on her face as the men picked themselves up. They were his men and his blatant cruelty was pointless. It didn’t teach them anything and it didn’t make him look like a smart Lord. She did not have time to talk to her brother before the man was approaching them, covered in blood.

“Enjoy the show, Lord Stark? Care to give it a go yourself?” The lord stood half cocked back, leaning on his still bloody sword.

Syana was seething at the question. Cregan could stand to knock this one in the dirt at least once. But her brother was as stone faced as ever which just this once was probably the appropriate response.

“We’ve come a long way.” She sneered for her brother. “We’d appreciate you showing us to our rooms.” She gave him a tight smile at the end that was not meant to be nice.

He’d shifted his eyes from her brother to hers, never changing his posture. “Well, I’ll be. The Thorn of Winterfell has left her frozen palace.”

Cregan had his sword pulled and pointed at the lord of Raventree before he finished his sentence.

“Benjicot! Stand up straight and wipe that fucking smirk off your face or I swear to the gods you’ll be picking your teeth up.”

A dark haired woman approached, having apparently been watching the encounter from afar. Then striding over she addressed them.

“No need for that Lord Stark, please. My nephew is an idiot and he’s a poor one at that.” She glared at said nephew, who was looking properly chastised.

Cregan quickly pulled his sword back sheathing it before giving her a look that said, ‘Can you fucking believe these guys?’ And she could, sadly that’s what happens when everyone dies fighting all the time. She hoped Cregan lived to be ancient, so old that he cursed the gift of life for lasting too long. She couldn’t bear to live a life without him. It was another aspect of her reluctance to marry. Marrying meant leaving and who knew when she would see her brother again. If she would see him again. The wrong husband could mean she never saw Winterfell again. And that was intolerable to her.

“Please, follow me. I’ll show you to your rooms and you can freshen up a bit before dinner.”

Weary and tired they followed. Raventree hall was a queer castle. It had a timber keep, rather than stone. It had beautiful massive oak beams that ran throughout and she could vaguely see carvings in them. Supposedly the Blackwoods moved into the castle when the king of winter drove them from the wolfswoods. And if you believed further rumor, drove the brackens from the castle before taking it.

As they walked through the wooden keep, they came across a panel of diamond windows that overlooked the godswood. Syana stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the weirwood tree. It was massive, so big it was hard to comprehend. She had nothing to compare it to, it was taller than the castle and so wide it seemed impossible. But no red leaves sprouted from the limbs and that made her feel cold inside. Like she was standing on the precipice of bad luck.

Cregan grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her along. The group seemed uncomfortable at her looking at the tree. Sore subject it would appear. They arrived at their apartments quickly after that and Syana pretended to enter her own room. She waited until her hosts left and then went to dart into Cregan’s room. Only he’d had the same idea and the door swung open, nearly banging into her.

“Thank the gods. Brother, must we always be the most responsible people in the room? It's enough to drive anyone mad. And where is Prince Jacaerys?”

He gave her a questioning look. “You are never the most responsible person in the room. The prince will arrive when he feels his scouting duties satisfied.”

“Ugh. Whatever. What about this supposed ‘lord’?”

“A bad man to have on your flank if he can’t control himself. Bloodthirsty can be useful but how well do you think he listens?”

“Listened to his aunt pretty well. But who can say what a man does on the battlefield.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” He looked grim and she couldn’t help but to pull him into a hug.

“You’re going to live forever brother. They’ll call you the oldest man to live, an old winter wolf.”

Then she said a prayer, thinking of that dead weirwood tree and trying to will a better future into existence.

He squeezed her tightly back.

[authurials]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 . states of unrest

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 . link

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 . brief sexual reference, possible strong language

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 . chapter three is here and with it comes the arrival of jaehaera targaryen! my girl deserves the world and i intend to give it to her. let me know your thoughts and make sure to leave a like! as always this chapter has also been cross-posted over ao3, so if you prefer to read over there you can.

𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 knew what it meant to covet; he had coveted after all for most of his life.

He had coveted the approval of his father.

He had coveted Vhagar.

And he had coveted the Iron Throne.

The list of his desires had truly known no bounds, and still did not if Aemond were to be honest with himself; for even though it was he who had reigned victorious at the end of the Dance and now wore the Conqueror’s crown as proof of such a feat, the man still hungered for more. For what exactly? The Targaryen could not simply put such cravings into words as there was no way to truly articulate the constant ache he felt within his hollow body; an ache that often overcame good reason, and had in the past led to such outcomes as the death of Lucerys Velaryon and the burning of the Riverlands.

It was the same ache he felt now that he had laid eyes upon the woman known as Keeley–

His son’s wet nurse.

He had never paid much mind to the woman who spent her days tending to his child, only enough really in the very beginning to ensure that she would not pose a threat to the prince’s safety; even then, he had never gazed upon her appearance nor heard her voice until that moment in his bed chambers, the woman somehow always absent from the nursery when he would visit his son. At the time it had been no concern of his, after all Prince Aerion’s sworn sword had spoken highly enough of the wet nurse’s attentive care that her convenient absence had never raised any alarms for the king.

Now that he had finally gazed upon her face–and body–however there was no going back now; he could not simply pretend she did not exist after their first meeting last night when she had shown herself, unannounced, into his private chambers. He had been filled with rage at first at the woman’s impertinence, of her salacious interruption to his and his bed mate’s activities, and had fully intended to see her punished in a much harsher and brutal manner; being ordered to watch him take his pleasure had only intended to be the beginning of her humiliation, until the action incited thrill within him to forgo enough reason to order her to expose herself to his gaze.

Her compliance had been a surprise, her enjoyment even more so, and her fleeing despite his orders unforeseen. He had had every intention of pursuing her in that moment, if it had not been for the presence and displeasure of his bed mate as she demanded uncouthly to be untied. By the time he had rid himself of the other woman, Keeley the wet nurse had been long gone and he hadn’t the desire to disrupt his son’s peaceful rest in the nursery where she had surely returned to.

Now, the next morning, Aemond was left brooding at the table as servants moved around him in unease, serving him his wine and his niece her cider. Princess Jaehaera sat across from him as always, silent as she methodically laid out her cutlery beside her plate, which was sparsely covered in the only kinds of food she would eat–fruit and bread; if he were lucky, he could sometimes get her to eat a hearty vegetable soup or pie, but the girl simply refused to eat anything of the meat or cheese variety. Her self-imposed diet restriction had begun after the passing of her twin brother all those years ago, which had severely dampened her appetite and had caused the young girl to slowly waste away right before her uncle’s eye. Aemond’s concern was constant, but no matter what he did Jaehaera never seemed to improve, in fact she appeared to worsen the more he pushed; that did not dampen his hope, however, that she might someday grace him with even the smallest of smiles that reminded him of his sweet sister Helaena.

The pale wisp of a girl continued to hum a melancholy tune as she spread butter lightly across the blackened bread before discarding her knife neatly on a cloth napkin to her side. Aemond watched her careful movements, familiar by this time with the routine his niece took for every meal before she would finally begin to eat. Her personal servant that morn had dressed her in a pale pink gown, embroidered with silver accents and matching rose embellishments along the waist and neckline; her thick white hair had grown long over the years, but the one and ten girl often requested it be maintained back into twin braids as she hated the way it felt when it tickled her skin.

“Did you sleep well, niece?” Aemond inquired, breaking the long silence that had preceded them all morning.

“Hardly a wink,” she replied honestly, her eyes never wavering from her work as she unfolded her napkin and laid it in her lap.

“And why is that?” Aemond hummed, raising a pale eyebrow as he himself began to cut up the ham he had taken for himself.

His niece hesitated, her gaze flicking for the barest of moments towards her uncle before returning to her fruit, which she was arranging into colorful rows, “I do not want to say.”

“Jaehaera….” Aemond sighed, grip tightening on his fork and knife.

“I find myself unrestful when I try to sleep,” she explained carefully, fingers lingering over her food, the pale digits smoothing over the blunt edge of her nails nervously; Aemond had noted that she had taken to gnawing on them, similar to how her mother and grandmother had done before her. “At least when I am awake the nightmares cannot get to me….”

“You have been having bad dreams again?” Her uncle frowned. For moons after the end of the Dance, Jaehaera had been plagued with vivid night terrors, often depicting the living memories of her family’s demises; her twin’s head, her little brothers amputated limbs, her grandmother’s slow suffocation–all she recounted in stark detail whenever Aemond was called to her chambers, as she would have no one else tend to her in these moments. Sometimes, the young girl even spoke of her own death, a mirror to her mother’s, but after a while–much like the rest–those dreams had gone away.

But now it appeared they were back.

“Sometimes,” the king’s niece confessed quietly as she picked up one of the green grapes from her plate; instead of eating it, though, she began to peel the thin skin carefully back from the rest of the small fruit. “Other than when I am at my most tired, only then can I sleep through the night….”

“And why have I not been called upon when these dreams occur?” Aemond asked; he had done so in the past, gone without question to her side to comfort her through those dark nights–the last two remaining Targaryens of their bloodline, bound together by shared loss.

“I am a child no longer, uncle,” Jaehaera explained pragmatically, nails picking at the delicate viscera of the grape. “I do not need to be coddled.”

“You are a girl of one and ten,” he snorted, incredulous at her tone. “I would hardly say that constitutes an adult, my dear niece.”

“And yet soon I will be of marriageable age,” the girl hums, finally freeing a portion of the green skin from its vessel; she discarded it as she began to hum softly to herself, working on the rest of the layer, “and you will send me from your side to some lord’s house so that I may give him pale-haired babes–”

“Where have you gotten an idea like that?” The king cut her off, food forgotten as he set his cutlery down. “Who has said such things to you?”

“....no one,” his niece muttered defiantly, her picking becoming clumsy as her urgency to free the fruit of its green skin rose.

“I will have the truth of it, Jaehaera,” Aemond’s tone left nothing up for discussion as he stared intently at his niece.

Still, the girl hesitated a moment as she stared down at her plate, using her thumbs to split the skinless grape carefully in twain slowly so that she could see its insides. Silence stretched out before the two as the girl remained defiant, still weighing the risk of disobeying her uncle’s command.

“Very well,” he cleared his throat, “perhaps I shall have Myrielle brought to us–”

“No!” Jaehaera surprised even herself with her outburst, her face becoming noticeably flushed as her eyes turned downcast once more. “I just mean….please–please leave her alone.”

Myrielle Peake had been a casualty of her father’s own ambition, the man having tried to plant his daughter as Aemond’s new bride before his first one was cold in the ground. When Unwin Peake had been dismissed of all his titles at court, his daughter had been kept as a ward–and an assurance that no further plots would be carried out to see her family’s blood on the throne somehow. Surprisingly, the arrangement of having the girl placed in the service of his niece had resulted in an unlikely companionship between the pair despite Myrielle being four years Jaehaera’s senior; the unforeseen development was much to Aemond’s chagrin, as he had fully intended to see the Peake girl bare the punishment of her father’s hubris by making her his niece’s whipping girl. Those plans of humiliation had never come to fruition, for how could an uncle damage his niece’s favorite plaything without also harming her heart?

“Then tell me where you have heard such ridiculous notions of me marrying you off,” Aemond once more demanded, “or your friend will bare the bruises of your defiance, niece.”

Again, hesitation but then Jaehaera sighs exasperatedly, as if put out by her uncle’s demands, “Septa Pernelle.”

“Your septa?” Aemond hummed, not entirely surprised by the notion of a religious woman preaching to the young girl about her ‘duty.’ “And what did Septa Pernelle have to say in regards to my own plans to marry you off? I am just curious after all, as even I had no idea I had such inclinations about your future.”

“Uncle….” Jaehaeara tried to appease him with a pleading look, but all Aemond did was fix her with an unwavering one of his own. Again, the girl sighed and discarded the forgotten and eviscerated halves of her food on her plate, grabbing her napkin as she spoke, “she said that now that I have….flowered–

The girl flushed at the mention of her moon’s blood, which had come a near five moons ago, and in which Aemond had never been more grateful for his wife at the time; Floris had managed to carefully explain the intricacies of womanhood to his niece, and offered her her ear if Jaehaera had any need of it. Now that the late queen was gone, Aemond was unsure of how he would manage to handle situations of such a nature.

For a moment, his mind wandered back to Keeley, until his niece continued, “she said now that I have flowered it would not be long before you found me a proper match, and that I should get used to the idea of being sent away now as it will surely not be long before I am. I told her that I did not wish to be sent away from you, and that I did not wish to be married, and she said–”

The girl once more stopped herself from revealing the truth of her septa’s words, beginning to fidget with beds of her nails as she looked anywhere but at her uncle. Aemond, whose pension for patience had grossly suffered over the years, reminded himself that he must tread gently in regards to his niece–or at least as gentle as he could muster. He hummed, “what did she say, Jaehaera? I promise I will not be mad at you.”

“I do not worry for myself, uncle,” the girl snorted without humor.

“Out with it,” the man clenched and unclenched his fists–

Patience.

“Very well,” Jaehaera shifted in her chair, eyes still glued on her hands. “Septa Pernelle said that it mattered little what I wanted–that I should be grateful that I am a princess and therefore would have such an illustrious match made by the king. She said that I would make beautiful babes, and strengthen the Targaryen line–as is my duty.”

Her voice was laced with disgust as she recounted what had been said to her, and with each word Aemond felt his own aversion rise within him–along with it came anger. The man made his face a mask, not wishing to cause his niece any distress as he tensely listened to her, but all he could think about was how to move forward. He would of course need to call for the dismissal of the septa, and ensure a new one was secured as soon as possible as it was important for Jaehaera to continue her education and socialization into court politics. But he did not wish to simply disgrace the pious woman by having her sent back to where she came from, he also wished to see her suffering–to hurt as she had hurt his niece.

“Uncle?” His niece’s voice broke him out of his vicious plotting once more as she looked at him from across the table, concern clear on her face. “You are not angry with me, are you?”

The uncertainty her voice would have been enough to break Aemond long ago, weak as he was to whims of the woman of his life; even now, war-seasoned and battle-hardened as he was, he still felt a twinge of sympathy at his sweet niece’s unsureness, but he did not let it show as he rose from his seat.

“Of course not,” he assured her as best as he could, though the girl did not look fully convinced, “but I would advise you to bring such matters as this one to me in the future, as it does not please me to hear such vile things have been said to you. You are my niece, Jaehaera, a piece of my sister that I cherish dearly; I would sooner have my own heart torn from my chest than to have you parted from my side so soon. There will of course be talks of betrothals in the future, but as I stated earlier: you are just a girl. And no moon’s blood will change that in my eyes. Am I understood?”

The girl seemed to contemplate his words for a moment but instead of responding outright with her own  she stood from her chair and hurried around the table, wrapping her arms around his waist as she pressed her face into his sternum, “thank you, uncle.”

Aemond stood there, arms hovering awkwardly at his sides as he allowed his niece her moment of affection, only offering her a few pats on the back in acknowledgement of her welcome before she pulled away and looked up at him; and finally he was graced with a small smile, the subtle curving of his niece’s lips like a blessing as she allowed her arms to fall once more at her sides and she gave her uncle some appreciated space. Still tense, he cleared his throat and nodded jerkily, “it is almost time for your lessons, niece, I will have Ser Fenrick escort you back to your quarters; we will discuss your septa and these dreams you’ve been having more later.”

He gestured to the posted knight who until then had remained ignored by both parties of the royal family, but now the man bowed to his king and walked to the entrance of his solar to await the departing princess. Jaehaera remained for a moment, her pale eyes searching her uncle’s matching one, before she hummed and offered him a curtsy, “your grace.”

With that, his niece left Aemond to his own, standing alone in his solar with the waste of his and his niece’s untouched food and the haunting memory of a smile.

---------- ☾ ----------

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 arrived in King’s Landing upon a fishing boat from Lorath, Keeley had had no intention of finding work as a wet nurse within the Red Keep. With nary a coin to her name aside from a miniscule inheritance left by her long-since passed parents, she had been forced to find quick work wherever it was to be offered; and this subtle desperation had led her to the kitchens of the castle as a simple maid. Though the work had left much to be desired and the pay often felt insulting at best, at least Keeley had managed within her first turn of the moon of residing in the capital to secure not only proper coin but also a place to lay her head at night. She had figured at the time that it beat sleeping on the streets of Flea Bottom, exposed to the elements, and unsure if she would awake the next day or perish in her sleep.

Within three moons of her employment as a servant under the crown she was being tracked down by the Lord Commander himself, a great bear of a man with a thick dark beard and yet a clean shaven head; he had introduced himself as Ser Garth Swyft, and let it be known that Keeley was to come with him immediately. It was that night she discovered that the then queen, Floris Baratheon, had died during her labors and brought forth a son, and due to the prematurity of the birthing a wet nurse had yet to be procured. Keeley herself had retained the milk from her own pregnancy nearly a year prior, serving as a wet nurse to a captain’s wife during her voyage as a way to pay her way, and even then to some fellow servants within the keep who had not been able to maintain their own supply.

What had begun as a temporary solution to see the heir fed until a proper wet nurse could be secured, had turned into a permanently elevated position within the Red Keep–at least until the prince was weaned off the breast. It had come with extra coin and new, private chambers, and for most women in Keeley’s position such luxuries would be seen as a godsend; but the Lorathi woman had never wanted for more than a peaceful existence where she could earn her way and remain unbothered the rest of the time–something she had feared her new proximity to the royal family would have interfered with. At first, such worries had appeared unfounded as the king had kept his distance and the only member of the Targaryen family Keeley dealt with was one still in nappies, and who could not yet string together the necessary words to order the taking of his wet nurse’s head; but now, as Keeley made her way nervously to the nursery the next morn after her first ever encounter with the king, she was beginning to realize how truly founded her fears had been.

Her nightly feeding with the prince had been uneventful upon her eventual return from the king’s chambers, with thankfully no unknown guards milling around ready to take her to the chopping block for her defiance; although it was apparent that Ser Draven knew something had occurred just by looking at the woman’s face, as he had asked more than once if Keeley was alright. She hadn’t the heart nor the right state of mind to discuss what had transpired in that bedroom, so she forced a smile and told him that everything was fine before thankfully retiring to her room for the night.

Now, it was the following morning and Keeley hoped she had a more trained expression on her face, as she hadn’t the disposition that day to deal with any further questioning. She had barely slept a wink last night, plagued by the repeating scene of his grace taking savagely the bound woman tied to his bed, though this time she was not one of flaxen-hair but one of ebony. Every time she was close to falling asleep, Keeley would be awoken by the warped memory, and all she could do was close her eyes once more and try again, ignoring the unwanted throbbing between her thighs.

“My lady,” Ser Draven bowed his head as she arrived outside the nursery, concern written clearly across the plains of his face; and perhaps it was her newly found–and unwanted–desires but once more Keely could not help but recognize how handsome the Stokeworth man was. He was tall and broad shouldered, with reddish brown hair long enough to brush back over his ears, which endearingly poked out at a noticeable angle; the scruff of his beard–which was barely a shadow cross his jawline–was a lighter shade of red than his hair, making it stand out starkly against the paleness of his skin. “How fair you this morning?”

It was not an unusual greeting, but the question now held a different meaning as the knight assessed Keeley from head to toe. She knew what he was seeing was the bags under her eyes, and the clumsy way in which she had tied her apron around her waist before leaving her room that morning; her dress was also noticeably wrinkled, far from how usually put together she was when she came to attend her duties to the prince.

“I think perhaps I am catching what the prince has,” Keeley excused her appearance lamely.

“The maester gave our ward a clean bill of health just this morning, though” Ser Draven hummed, lips curling in a slight smirk as he raised a brow at the woman.

“Then perhaps it is something else,” Keeley waved dismissively as she walked past him. “Is he awake?”

The man nodded, “and in a rather good mood surprisingly.”

“Thank the gods,” Keeley sighed, opening the double doors as Ser Draven followed behind her.

“Though that might have to do with this morning’s visitor,” the man continued, nearly running into Keeley as she froze just in front of the entrance. “Huh?”

She could feel the blood drain out of her face, a single shuddery breath escaping as she stayed rooted to her spot and took in the scene before her–

The named heir–her Aerion–rested comfortably in the arms of his father, the king, cooing with pure joy as his chubby fists reached for the loose strands that fell free of the man’s braid; and the man himself was smiling, nothing big, just a simple curve of the lips as he gazed down at the small babe in his arms. The sight almost appeared natural, endearing even, if Keeley did not know of the danger his grace’s presence presented to her person; she knew that he was not just here for a simple visit with his son, he was also there for her–whether it was to send a message, or to see her punished for her disobedience last night, she did not know–

And she did not wish to find out.

But it was too late to make an escape–Ser Draven blocked one exit, and attempting to see herself out of the other one across the room would cause only further suspicion and unrest. The only option set forth before her was to sow for mercy, though the mere thought already tasted bitter on her tongue as she swallowed uneasily, clearing her throat:

“Your grace.”

At the sound of her voice, the king looked up and almost immediately his gentle smile turned into a knowing smirk as he acknowledged the pair before him; adjusting his hold on his son, the pale-haired man turned his body to face Keeley fully now, his singular eye running up and down her frame with barely contained fire–and with the promise of something the woman could not yet discern; she did, however, note that over the beautiful sapphire she had gazed upon last night his grace now wore a black leather patch. Shifting uneasily, she hummed:

“I was not expecting you, my king.”

Keeley’s eyes only pulled away briefly as Ser Draven shifted around her, making his way to his post as he took in the tense scene before him; their eyes met for the barest of moments, and she could see the concern he held for her clearly but could do nothing about it. All she could do was tear her eyes away from her only companion in that room and back to the man who held both of their lives in his hands, much the same way he held his son.

And if it was any indication in the way Aemond Targaryen continued to stare, eye unwavering and smirk as sharp as a knife, Keeley’s life at least was surely forfeit.

[foxydivaxx]

More Gossip Girl AU Headcanons: The Roronoas

-Everyone calls Zoro Prince-sama because he acts like one

-Zoro resembles Arashi a lot which many suspect to be a reason why Terra treats Zoro like trash

-Idol by Yoasobi in this universe is sang by Miku and that song is actually referring to not only herself and all idols in general but that song is her way of telling people about Zoro's situation. The fact that it was released around the time of the #FreeZoro movement makes it more awesome and heartwarming. Zoro cried when he heard the song and thanked Miku for it

-The #FreeZoro movement was secretly started by Kuina, Perona and Zoro's backup dancers

-Miku and Zoro got their talents from their dad which is why their mum behaves the way she does. She envies her kids and her husband

-Arashi watched his kids on TV whilst in asylum. What Terra did not know is that Mihawk found out about Arashi and figured out a way to free him and whisk him off to Japan to be free. When the #FreeZoro movement begins, Arashi returns to America to reunite with his son. He also gains the strength to confront his wife and proceeds to finalise the divorce proceedings that she tried to delay years ago

-The Roronoa/Dracule clan are all great dancers

-The family now host movie nights every weekend to watch old Roronoa and Dracule classics

-Arashi and Mihawk have been best friends for years since they were kids. Terra drove a wedge between them

-Both Arashi and Mihawk go out together a lot these days and many suspect that there could be more to their relationship especially since Mihawk helped them a lot.

-Mihawk paid back the debt he owes to the Roronoas who saved him during his own struggles.

-Enma, Kitetsu and Wado are Zoro's cousins in this verse and they are all famous actors

-Grandma Roronoa is a top actress and Grandpa Roronoa is a singer and actor.

-Grandpa Roronoa passed away a year before Zoro's birth

-Grandma Roronoa always makes rice balls for the kids, especially Zoro and even taught Sanji how to make them

-The reason Zoro did not become like his mum or worse is thanks to Mihawk and Boa Hancock who serves as his lawyer and is now his new manager

-Some aspects of Zoro's life mirrors Arashi's in a lot of ways and also Mihawk's too as both father figures had turbulent relationships with one abusive parent.Arashi had a toxic relationship with his dad and Mihawk had to separate himself from his mother

-The Roronoa/Dracule family all live under the same roof. Zoro started living on his own once he turned 18.

- Sora and their kids plus Zoro’s other friends and their families are considered part of their family

- When Zoro started adapting a sexier image (similar to Koda Kumi), it rose a lot of eyebrows at first as people were so used to him being cute, baby Zoro. Eventually, the general public accepted it as they realized that he suits the sexy image better

- Sometimes whenever the family is having a dance party, Zoro’s inner sexy tiger comes out and next thing everyone knows, those sexy dance moves he exhibits onstage begin to manifest. The thing about Zoro is once the music comes on, he changes completely. Sanji too is like that

- Speaking of Sanji, people have been calling him Sanji Roronoa way before he and Zoro finally married

- Arashi has tried to get Zoro to tone down the sexiness albeit in a joking manner similar to Whitebeard and Sanji

- Zoro got his love of fashion and bling from his two dads who are pretty snazzy dressers. (Picture Zoro wearing bling similar to Sasha Banks)

- Once the cameras stop rolling and once Zoro is offstage, he becomes a cute little kitten. Onstage, he is a sexy tiger, similar to his dad. Sanji is similar in that regard except that one is a sexy fox xD

- Zoro’s natural singing voice is a lot deeper and sensual. He knows how to manipulate his voice to get the desired results out of a song, something that shocks Japanese netizens a lot

- Yosaku and Johnny are the pranksters of the family

- Perona and Kuina always go shopping together and help Zoro get clothes

- Miku’s normal speaking voice is a lot more matured compared to her idol voice

- Zoro and Miku write a lot of their songs especially now that they are older and wish to express certain things themselves

- Miku does her hair herself

- Miku is always portrayed as a bunny and Zoro is a mighty green tiger and often times is portrayed as an adorable black kitty with green stripes in fanart

[romanovsonelastdance]

I read in Wikipedia that Grand Duchess Elena Vladimirovna's "grand manner" irritated some people at court, Why? Is this grand manner happens to be something of her being ambitious? The Dowager Empress wrote that Elena "has a very brusque and arrogant tone that can shock people."

Elena Vladimirovna was raised to be a Grand Duchess and knew it. She had a sense of her place at the top of society and expected to be treated as such. Yes, she worked hard for charity at various times in her life and was a devoted friend and benefactor to the nannies in her life (both the one who raised her, Millicent Crofts, and the one who raised her daughters, Kate Fox), but she had a bit of an attitude.

Allegedly she looked down on Alice of Battenberg for being 'only' a Serene Highness and born to a morganatic (unequal) branch of the family. She's quoted as saying "I like snobs -- they're the only people who take me seriously."

Everyone was worried when she got engaged to "Greek Nicky" because the Greek and Danish side of the family was famously down-to-earth and silly and the Vladimirs were haughty snobs. People didn't think it would work out. But it did.

She tried to find grand matches for her daughters, even dragging Elizabeth to Italy one summer in hopes that the Crown Prince would fall for her and she could become a queen. Marina, for all her charm, seemed to have inherited a bit of this: she is quoted as referring to her sisters-in-law the Queen Mother and Alice, Duchess of Gloucester as "common Scotch girls" and bragged once about having "not one drop of common blood."

Ellen could be catty, too; there are letters to Kate Fox where she describes her nieces Maria and Kira Kirillovna in unflattering terms (how they were spoiled by their parents and allowed to snack at all hours, the horror!) and compared them unfavorably to her own daughters, "in terms of beauty they should not be mentioned in the same breath as our babies." Marina and Olga, too, would make comments like this to each other in Greek about other people, assuming no one could understand them. This is according to their children/nieces/nephews. Allegedly Elizabeth was the 'nicest' and least likely to indulge in that sort of behavior.

But Ellen loved her husband and her daughters, she loved "Milly" and "Kate" and did her best to provide for all of them even with the limited funds she had available to her after the Russian Revolution. The letter I have, from 1939, shows her being upset that Milly was not getting the money she was supposed to be getting and trying to set that right. She did a lot of charity work for Russian exiles, and while she was keen on her daughters making good marriages, in her circle that was the best way to ensure they would be taken care of--neither the Greek side of the family nor, after 1917, the Russian had that much money. A good marriage to a rich, royal husband would be the best thing for the girls in Ellen's mind, and not just for snobbish reasons.

She was a Grand Duchess and an Imperial Highness and she carried herself as one; we read stories about OTMA being embarrassed by their titles at times. Elena was raised to be proud of hers.

[distortedplatinum]

The Blue Lions class of 1206

Here's a massive post with my future Blue Lions' short bios and references. Hope you like my babies!

You can also attack all of them on Artfight!

P.S.: I used a translator to help me write in English, sorry for any dumb mistakes. :')

Aleksei Irek Blaiddyd

Aleksei Irek Blaiddyd is the worst prince the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus could wish for. Born as an adorable child to Dimitri and Ksenia, the moment he entered adolescence he turned into a real monster. He hates his parents (especially Dimitri), he hates Faerghus, he hates good manners, he hates everything around him. Inside him brooded an ever-growing anger, which reached its peak in 1206; the year when, together with the leader of the Black Eagles Hans, he set the Garreg Mach on fire and disappeared.

He would then spend the next eight years in a village in the Hrym Mountains, raise an army of fools by pretending to be a god, and begin a peaceful march to the kingdom to dethrone his father. When Sera, the woman he loved, is killed shortly after the expedition begins, he breaks down completely, becoming a mirror of what his father once was. He is defeated in Fhirdiad after a strenuous duel against Dimitri.

Despite hating everything and everyone, he is very close to his cousin Artemiya, loves sweets, reading, tarots, and fighting. He despises fish.

He was born with the Minor Crest of Blaiddyd, but at his 18th birthday the Major Crest of the Crescent Moon, his mother's, also manifested. He calls it "the plague".

Artemiya Rosenrot Blaiddyd

Artemiya Rosenrot Blaiddyd is a bastard child. Her mother's name is Ekaterina Zelenia Blaiddyd, daughter of Rufus Thierry Blaiddyd. At a young age she was forced to marry a rich merchant by whom she had two children; in 1176 Anatoliy Yakov was born and in 1182 Fridrich Ilya. And seven years later Artemiya was born, but immediately everyone noticed how much she did not resemble Ekaterina's husband; in fact, the child had brown hair and dark eyes, both traits not present in either parent. She was the child of adultery; her mother had cheated on her husband with the man she had fallen in love with so many years before, but whom she was forced to leave because he was a commoner. Both Ekaterina and Artemiya did not suffer any consequences only because of the intervention of Dimitri, who threatened serious repercussions if harm was done to either of them. However, Artemiya lived a life of abuse by both the merchant and Anatoliy, who hated her viscerally. Fridrich was the only one to protect her where their mother could not. All this led her to develop a very closed, submissive and shy personality. She could only feel comfortable with a sword in her hand.

A year after the fire of 1206 she was kidnapped by the Agarthans, who began experimenting on her to awaken the Crest of Blaiddyd. Although she was able to manifest it, a very serious infection threatened to kill her, and to contain it her left arm was amputated. Although she was in serious condition and on the verge of death, once she returned to Itha she was forced to make use of the Major Crest acquired in battle and was put in charge of the Bloody Rose Squadron. It was she herself who halved Aleksei's army at the border between Faerghus and Leicester. The two will not recognize each other. In 1214 Aleksei and Mitja will bury the hatchet and take her to Duscur to Björn, who will forge a prosthetic arm for her. Later Mitja will kill both Ekaterina's husband and Anatoliy.

She wields Areadbhar Γ.

Paired with Mitja.

Mitja Leclerc

Mitja Leclerc is a weirdo. He is the eldest and only son of Yuri and Constance; his younger sisters are named Diana and Angelica. Since childhood he always had odd interests, which as he grew up became quite macabre and disturbing. In fact, he has an obsession with death, especially in seeing corpses and entrails, to understand how they work, so he used to improvise autopsies on dead animals he found lying around. He does not like to talk about himself, all he tells is that he traveled a lot together with his father and so learned many things. He enrolled in the Officer's Academy as an undercover agent for Those Who Slither in the Dark for the purpose of collecting the blood of a bearer of the Crest of Blaiddyd, and having Aleksei as his main target he enjoys angering him, hoping in this way to injure him in a fight and get what he needed.

But, because of the fire of 1206 and the disappearance of the prince, the Agarthans opted to kidnap Artemiya because she was predisposed to develop it, so as to take her blood. Mitja's affiliation, however, had always been to be able to destroy Shambhala from the inside, and when they reduced the woman he loved to a mutilated doll, he felt tremendous guilt and, above all, responsibility for all the harm done to her because he had failed in his mission. He will never have the guts to reveal to her his involvement in the whole thing.

His weapon is a magic rifle made by the Agarthans.

Fortuna Beatrice Fraldarius

Fortuna Beatrice Fraldarius doesn't have the guts to show herself for who she really is. The eldest daughter of Annette and Felix, since childhood she has always tried to give a stern, cold and serious appearance, hiding her true self behind an icy, intimidating gaze. In her head she had to act like a machine to be able to be the worthy attendant of the prince, hiding all frivolous thoughts and constantly limiting herself. For this reason Aleksei will come to hate her deeply.

After the fire of 1206 she will spend all her energy in the search for the disappeared prince, determined to find him more than anyone else, driven by the love she had felt for him since childhood. She later becomes Ksenia's personal knight and in 1214 fights on the front lines against Aleksei's army, ending up badly wounded in the back by it, but fortunately the damage was not debilitating.

Fortuna, Aleksei, and Artemiya are childhood friends; the three were always inseparable until Aleksei changed and left Fortuna aside. Her friendship with Artemiya, on the other hand, never ended.

Fun fact: I gave her the timeskip hairstyle in 2019, three years before Three Hopes Annette lol.

Oktavia Ubert

Oktavia Ubert had the potential to be remembered in the centuries to come. Daughter of Ashe and a seamstress from Fhirdiad, she always showed great intelligence, kindness and talent in all her passions. Like her mother she loved making clothes and accessories, she enjoyed reading and also painting, but her biggest talent was in magic. Before going to Garreg Mach she also studied at the Fhirdiad's Royal School of Sorcery, graduating with the highest honors. Despite her kindness and sweetness, what made her stand out was her strong and decisive personality; she was not afraid to speak her mind and would not let anyone step on her feet.

Everything changed after the 1206 fire at the monastery. Although she managed to escape without serious harm, in 1210 she was kidnapped by a group of pirates, taken to Albinea and sold in marriage to a wealthy nobleman. She was able to kill him two years later, escaped from his manor and, cutting her hair to pretend to be a man, sailed on a pirate ship to manage to return to Fódlan. The ship's captain discovered her secret, but he kept it nevertheless and allowed her to return home.

She, Artemiya and Fortuna are best friends. Oktavia hates Aleksei because of his demeanor and doesn't understand why Artemiya likes Mitja so much; she considers him too weird and different from her.

Ragnhildr Azulai

Ragnhildr is a princess of Sreng, sent to the Officer's Academy as a token of peace between Sreng and Faerghus. She has a very calm and quiet personality, pretends not to know the language well but can speak it fluently. She tends to stare at people and has a crush on Eldjárn.

In 1208 her father decides to invade the Gautier territory and she is forced to fight, and in 1211 she will purposely get captured and become a war prisoner.

Eldjárn Mjöllnir Gautier

Eldjárn is the eldest son of Ingrid and Sylvain. He has similar attitudes to his father in his youth and spends most of his time chasing women; he is jealous of his brother because he is more successful while not caring. He does not like to study, but he is very smart and a great tactician. His best friend is a wyvern named Jord.

In 1208 he finds himself having to fight Ragnhildr, and she will injure him in the face in one of their many fights. The two will later form an alliance to stop that futile war, and she will be captured of her own free will.

Mikhail Adam Gautier

Mikhail is the youngest son of Ingrid and Sylvain. He's very quiet, silent, gets lost in books, and it is difficult to rouse him from his concentration. Hating him is impossible because he keeps so much to himself that he is almost unknown even to his own family members. Because of this he fascinates women very much, but he cares nothing about them.

In 1208 he joins his family's army to fight the invasion, but after less than a year he gets tired of fighting and runs away to Brigid to take a vacation of indefinite length. He hates cold and loud noises.

Björn Montero

Björn is originally from Duscur. He is a highly respected artist in his village and a "gentle giant". He always keeps a calm tone and can be intimidating at times, but he is actually extremely kind and always puts forth his immense strength to help others, no matter who or why. He made himself known at the Officer's Academy because he was the only one who could stop Aleksei's outbursts of rage with his bare hands, and if not for him, it would have ended badly for Mitja several times during their violent bickering.

After the fire of 1206 he returned to Duscur and began working as a blacksmith, mostly building works of art with his skills. In 1209 his daughter, whom he named Fatima, was born, and in 1214 he built a prosthesis for Artemiya's left arm.

At the academy he was close friends with Artemiya and Oktavia, and together they spent their free time painting.

Supports

[ms-all-sunday]

what do you mean "unsure there'd be an audience", if I were to ever find Pudding x Nami content I'd be beyond thrilled, especially a good writer like you. I'd absolutely love your future fanfic

I don't know how to articulate it properly but when I saw Pudding's everything, I was really intrigued about how her and Nami (the whole, them having no one to rely on from a young age and learning to fend for themselves, and being the "favorite" (note the quotes) of a much stronger, terrifying being who humor them but don't view them as a person nor allow them any real power/agency, and the farce of pretending they're casual despite the horrific power dynamic (the "Arlong indulgently allow Nami to make snappy comments/Big Mom indulgently allow Pudding to pout and complain at her when asking if she awakened her eye", learning to be a people pleaser from a young age and to carefully adapt their performance (Nami having to rob from pirates, Pudding and her arranged marriages), traumatized young women, just, just, their everything.

Also Nami have a lesbian subplot more often than not, and if she could have a dramatic romantic sapphic subplot with Lola she could totally have one with Pudding

wait now that I think about it

please, for the ask game Nami x Lola (would be extremely happy if you went into detail about what you think of them)

this is interesting! you bring up good points. let me go into how nami navigates around sexism real quick.

oddly, this will start off with me explaining how robin does, for reference. robin is more into lies of omission around men. she's obviously got more going on, but she doesn't hide the fact she's got more going on, she just doesn't let men in on what that is. think how she treated crocodile and eneru. she seems competent even when she's downplaying aspects of herself so men don't fuck with her.

nami, in juxtaposition, allows herself to be thought of as stupid. it's very much a "bimbo" act, unlike robin, she can "mess up" and state her true intentions around men she doesn't like, not necessarily because they don't believe she can act on it, or that those aren't her true intentions but because they believe her to be incompetent. she aims to be thought of as harmless, in this weird infantalizing manner men often treat women.

she isn't a people pleaser, (but i get what you mean, it's just important to make the distinction here. she can accurately appear to men as something harmless, but it's not with any intention to actually people please. usopp for example is a character who is an actual people pleaser, even when he's talking to his enemies.) but she knows how to navigate relationships with sexist men in order to get validation from them (playing what they'd reduce her down to)

both of these women can act a certain way to get men and in puddings case big mom off their back, but i don't think playing into what is deemed acceptable for all women to be is people pleasing exactly. i do see the similarities you're getting at, but with nami it's much more intentional as a belief in her agency as a woman and as a person outside of arlong.

pudding is hard to categorize in the same way as nami, because nami is a person who has agency and does things intentionally. pudding, and i mean this with all the love in the world, doesn't do anything intentionally and most of how she navigates her mothers projected sexism onto her daughter, and how she navigates it from other external sources is mainly coming from a reactionary standpoint.

so pudding, i think there's both a level of the way robin navigates sexism and the way nami does within her role as the bride and with her mother, but because pudding is not disingenuous to some degree in her role at least with sanji and i think probably her other husbands, at no point is pudding disingenuous and that makes her way more complicated than robin and nami in this respect. because she does holistically believe every thing shes saying, she wants to be a princess with a prince to sweep her off her feet, it's the thing i've been identifying within the past few days which is that pudding does not know what feminism is and does have inherently sexist beliefs despite being a genuinely competent young woman. it's that juxtaposition i think is funny about her, and whats holding her back.

to be clear, while i think her relationship to her mother is almost exactly the genuine version of what nami presents disingenuously to men, (an incompetent young woman who if she means harm can't do anything anyways) i think within her role as the bride she exhibits the same skill in navigating gender roles in the way robin does, intentionally. but she doesn't realize that

oh man i wrote a lot there haha

nami/lola - makes sense to me, not compelling to me though

it's okay if it's your cup of tea though, it's cute. I'm just not compelled because my default is shipping her with pudding

i think it's the same appeal as nami/pudding but without all of puddings internal conflict and i love puddings internal conflict. lola is a cute character, and i would accept her marriage offer did i not have incredibly similar issues in romantic relationships in the same way her and pudding do. nami might take up her offer though.

nami definitely has more of an emotional capacity to play emotional saviour for women than men, (it's a small capacity even then but it is there) (rather, i think more accurately she tends to give women the benefit of the doubt rather easily when she's unable to do that for men.) and i don't think i would write her as giving the amount of emotional effort by default to men as i would when writing her interacting with women, but as someone with a similar relationship to men and women i respect her grind.

ask game

[theannotateddean]

“Green Caves sorcerers don’t go to war,” said Ruth slowly. She looked suddenly frightened. “So why did Lady Ruth go?” Ted asked her. Ellen snickered. “Probably because she’s in love with Edward. You dress in men’s array, Ruthie, and quickly heal his wounds.” “And you and Laurie can dress in men’s array and carry the bandages,” said Ruth, absently; she still seemed worried.

Chapter 5, The Hidden Land

This is an indirect reference to a traditional ballad sometimes titled Jack Monroe (Roud 268, Laws N7, c. 1818) – Dean is most likely referencing the version recorded by Steeleye Span, based purely on the specific turns of phrases quoted by Ellen and her other references to Steeleye Span renditions of traditional ballads.

In this quote, Ellen is very deliberately paralleling the language used in stanzas 4 and 9.

There was a wealthy merchant, in London he did dwell. He had a beautiful daughter, the truth to you I’ll tell. She had sweethearts a-plenty and men of high degree But none but Jack the sailor her true love ere could be. Jack he’s gone a-sailing with trouble on his mind He’s left his king and his country and his darling girl behind. She went down to a tailor’s shop and dressed in men’s array She’s signed a bill of passage to convey herself away. Before you get on board, Sir, your name we’d like to know. She smiled all in her countenance, they call me Jack-A-Roe. I see your waist is slender, your fingers they are small. Cheeks too red and rosy to face the cannonball. I know my waist is slender, my fingers they are small, But it would not make me tremble to see ten thousands fall. The war soon being over she went and looked around, Among the dead and wounded her darling boy she found. She picked him up all in her arms and carried him to the town, She sent for a physician who quickly healed his wounds. This couple they got married, so well they did agree; This couple they got married so why not you and me?

The ballad itself tells the story of a young woman who crossdresses and follows her forbidden lover to war, saving him from his wounds. The parallel is apt for the characters / actual Lady Ruth and Prince Edward, who are ostensibly pining for each other in a forbidden manner.

See Jackie Munro / The Wars of Germany / There Was a Wealthy Merchant for more information on the ballad itself and its variants.

[nobleburn]

a kiss to prove you don’t have feelings for them, from Thea IF I MUST

Prince Lux didn't seem to want anything to do with her, and yet of course he still loved her, even as he regarded that obnoxious shrew of a girl with gentler eyes than he'd ever cast in her direction. Even if he had no idea, there was a small spitefulness towards him each time she had shared an intimate moment with her new companion, as though she were saying 'I'm desirable, too, and you have missed that.' A girl had needs, after all, and Amal'thea was... Well Nikolette enjoyed that sort of company with her far more than she'd expected.

Still, her question had merely been one of curiosity and light conversation. Nikolette's tastes were well-established - her fiancé, and him alone - but she wasn't quite sure what Amal'thea looked for in a lover. Being in that Nikolette wasn't interested in women in that sort of way, she simply had no frame of reference for it, and was quite curious about Amal'thea's interests, besides. She had thought her teasing addition of 'or have you already fallen for me? Well, that's quite natural, after all,' was well-understood as light-hearted.

Apparently Amal'thea had taken it in some sort of unintended way. Perhaps she was trying to prove that she could do all this with no matter of emotions interfering? Either way, there was scarcely time to react before her companion's pale lips were upon her painted ones. That Thea was a good kisser had never been in doubt, but typically Nikolette had more time to prepare than this. Off-guard as she was, each movement of her companion's lips and tongue, as sharply precise as a knife, quickened her heart and brought a hot blush to her cheeks.

And then she had moved to pull away, no doubt to leave Nikolette entirely embarrassed even in the absence of any third parties to see them. Well, Nikolette may have been the younger or slightly less experienced of the two of them, but she'd hardly allow Thea to get the better of her. Instead of allowing her to pull back, Nikolette wrapped a strong arm around her, bringing Amal'thea closer once more. She'd since given up on earning any kind of blush or obvious outward reaction from the dark elf, but at the very least she could save some amount of face for herself.

Whatever message or meaning Nikolette had thought to convey melted away the moment they'd met a second time. Anyone could say what they liked about her, but at least Nikolette wasn't the sort of person to hold anything back. Not that Amal'thea made that difficult for her. Nikolette's own kiss was firm, but gentle, demandingly dominant, and incredibly needy all at once. Even when Nikolette chose not to notice, she noticed how easily they fit together. Truthfully, it would not be difficult to stay like this for a while, but there were things to do, and besides, her heart belonged to Prince Lux. This was simply... some fun diversion, or something. Something like that.

Perhaps she had not entirely wrested back some manner of control of the situation, given how her face was still flushed, and how Thea seemed to regard her as coolly and unflappably as usual, even as she wore smudges of Nikolette's lipstick upon her. "W-well what was that about, anyway," Nikolette murmured as she smoothed her clothes from where her companion's hands had been. "I was only joking, you know. I'm well-aware that we're hardly each other's type."

[cjrae]

Series: Reaction to a Reaction. Episode 21 "How To Buy Out A Contract."

@i-guess-im-into-this-now, I had a feeling you were gonna have fun with this one!

1.) "Hmmm… is there some connection here? Guen is a "doctor" and Suirei ended up being adopted by a doctor in the Outer Palace. Could she have learned the trade alongside Guen and used that knowledge to impress the Outer Palace doctor?"

I imagine that if Guen and Suirei had been trained by the same mentor, our beloved quack might not actually be a quack. I actually love this bit we get of Guen's backstory. He appears to be a kind soul who's great when it comes to bedside manner, but deliberately choosing to become a eunuch in Not Imperial China is an extremely brave sacrifice for the only son of a formerly wealthy family to make. It really speaks to why Maomao, despite disparaging his medical abilities, respects and cares about him. There's a theme developing here - Luomen, the quack; self sacrificing kindness gets Maomao to put on her Protective Hat real quick!

2.) "Maomao explains to Lihaku that Pairin would likely love to become a mother, but she is very lusty, and is difficult to satisfy in bed.

Lihaku: So she's perfect. Your point?

Okay, so Lihaku has won me over. I'm a sucker who has to support a man in love."

I had a feeling. :D This is one of those lines that stands out to me as an utterly perfect translation of the sentiment being expressed. (The other that comes to mind is Maomao screaming at Lihua's lady in waiting "You think she wants to be adorned in the poison that killed her son?!")

3.) "Friends. I am dying.

Jinshi: My apologies, but what exactly am I interrupting here? Maomao, brightly: Hi Master Jinshi! How are you?

About to go ballistic by the looks of it.

Lady Gyokuyou would love this. It's so funny."

Lady Gyokuyou would pee herself laughing. As does the audience.

To be completely fair to Jinshi, however, this isn't JUST about walking on a scene looks like Maomao was about to give Lihaku a blowjob (allow me to include the manga panel - I'm pretty sure they weren't ALLOWED to animate her that close to Lihaku's crotch).

The first time I saw the scene, though, aside from laughing my ass off, my first thought is that Jinshi is 100% right to be utterly pissed. He's the manager of the Rear Palace and Lihaku should NOT have been undressed anywhere near one of the ladies within it, consort or not. Something that's pointed out in the manga and light novels is that ALL the women in the Inner Palace have the potential to become mother of the nation - if the Emperor were to take a fancy to a lowly maid, that's his prerogative. (In fact, this is how the Empress Regnant - the current Emperor's grandmother rose to her position).

So, yeah. Lihaku managed to piss Jinshi off both personally AND professionally!

4.) "Excuse me, did he just refer to Maomao as his cat?"

Yes. Yes he did. Just in case this somehow hadn't come up yet, her name is literally written as the character for cat twice. 猫猫

5.) "In fact Maomao is a boon to everyone in her life. We saw it twice this episode with Guen and now with Lihaku."

The ending title of the second half of the season is "Ai wa Kusuri," or "Love is Medicine." I think I remember you saying that you hadn't closely watched either the opening and closing titles, but the first opening and the second closing are absolutely rich with symbolism. (I've got an analysis ready to go for "Ai wa Kusuri", but I need still images at the very least to do an art analysis and given that I'm trying to teach my six month old to sleep through the night, I have no brain space for trying to get my own screencaps to go through it shot by shot).

To make a long analysis very short, women in the show tend to be represented as flowers - specifically poisonous flowers. The flower Maomao is associated with is actually the very first shot in the series, but the characters won't touch on it until Episode 23. Unlike the courtesans and the consorts, (and princes) who are all enmeshed inside this poisonous system, Maomao provides medicine. (After all, what is the difference between poison and medicine? Dosage). Everybody who knows Maomao is made better for it - especially Jinshi.

6.) "It almost seems like Jinshi was testing Lihaku and he passed. Maybe making sure that Lihaku has integrity? Maybe Jinshi is thinking about bringing him into his very small trusted circle? Lord knows Jinshi could use more allies."

I mentioned on the last episode that Jinshi is a political animal and I love the scene between him and Lihaku because it showcases both Jinshi absolutely in his element, at his most manipulative, as well as really exemplifying not just Lihaku's integrity, but also the qualities that make him an exceptional up-and-coming soldier.

Jinshi is being smooth and charming. He doesn't just have the sparkly charm he puts to easy use around his admirers. He's using Lihaku's public accomplishments as artillery in this flattery bombardment, before making the offering to put up the money to buy out Pairin. To a simple soldier, in love, it ought to be an irresistible offer - and if Lihaku takes it, he will be forever indebted to Jinshi, making him a very useful tool to be used later, not to mention getting him away from Maomao.

Lihaku, for all that he may not think too deeply about certain subjects, is NOT stupid. He immediately recognizes that this offer is too good to be true. And, unlike the majority of the court, having the "most beautiful person in the nation" flatter and compliment him provokes caution. It's also worth noting that Lihaku picks up on Jinshi being pissed about implying that Maomao is a vehicle for Jinshi's trust. Jinshi's expressions are extremely controlled and we actually see the shift between his public expression of distaste and the blue anger radiating off of him that Lihaku can see. I guarantee you, most people would never have picked up on Jinshi's actual emotional state.

And then comes the polite refusal of the devil's bargain. In that moment, Jinshi's in shock - he's just found something extremely rare and valuable in a royal court. A talented soldier with the integrity to turn down his heart's desire because to take Jinshi's offer would be to strip the meaning of buying Pairin's contract of all it's emotional meaning and reduce it back down to a business transaction. We watch Lihaku earn Jinshi's respect in a single conversation - and the tone immediately shifts from bribery to recruitment.

(Also, the scene in the light novel lets us go into a little more detail of what Lihaku's thinking. HE picks up immediately that Jinshi doesn't really fit the typical profile of a eunuch...Maomao, you could take an example from this!)

7.) "A certain someone came to talk to granny about making a purchase at the brothel and some of the servant girls got the wrong idea. Lakan apparently. What the hell is his game this time? Mess with Maomao's sisters to draw her out of the Rear Palace?"

Well, there's also the "blue roses" comment. Next episode, Lakan goes on the attack!

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E21 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/locations cheat sheet

Lakan - strategist. Maomao's biological father.

Lihaku - a young military officer

Pairin - one of the princesses at Verdigris House

Guen - the palace doctor

Lihaku is sparring and doing poorly because he is too distracted. Probably thinking about his true love Pairin and wondering if she is the princess who is having her contract bought out. Last time Maomao was at the brothel we learned that Meimei had some offers, but we haven't heard anything about Pairin.

Maomao is back in the Rear Palace and happy to be in the pharmacy with her old friend Guen, making him clean and organize.

We learn that Guen's family manufactures paper. They used to be quite wealthy until logging was banned and they had to cut back production. Under more dire circumstances, the eldest daughter chose to work in the palace. Guen volunteered to become a eunuch to follow her, but he never saw her again. Missing sister huh? Suirei maybe?

Hmmm... is there some connection here? Guen is a "doctor" and Suirei ended up being adopted by a doctor in the Outer Palace. Could she have learned the trade alongside Guen and used that knowledge to impress the Outer Palace doctor?

There is an issue with the paper that is manufactured for the palace, and the family is likely to lose their purveyor status if the problem isn't fixed. Luckily Maomao is a genius and can figure out the problem with minimal clues.

OMG, Lihaku. He's down sooooo bad for Pairin.

The man is dedicated. I will grant him that. He wants to know what he needs to do to buy out her contract. He's looking for an amount, and Maomao is stalling in giving him a direct answer. It's complicated since Pairin's desires can change that amount.

We learn that Maomao was a ward of the brothel. And induced lactation is a thing I just learned about today. Pairin was a mother figure to Maomao.

Maomao explains to Lihaku that Pairin would likely love to become a mother, but she is very lusty, and is difficult to satisfy in bed.

Lihaku: So she's perfect. Your point?

Okay, so Lihaku has won me over. I'm a sucker who has to support a man in love.

Maomao: Master Lihaku understands what Pairin does for a living and is still in love with her. He may act like a big dumb dog, but seems to be honest and a hard worker.

Yeah that all tracks.

Maomao tells him he has to come up with roughly 10x his annual income to buy out Pairin's contract. She then asks to examine his physique to see if he matches Pairin's tastes. And now would be a perfect time for someone to interrupt this scene. Preferably someone who views Lihaku as a romantic rival and can misread the situation...

Oh my god. Right on cue. Thank you storytellers for feeding your audience!

The looks on Lihaku's and Maomao's faces! They are so busted.

Friends. I am dying.

Jinshi: My apologies, but what exactly am I interrupting here? Maomao, brightly: Hi Master Jinshi! How are you?

About to go ballistic by the looks of it.

But anyway, since Maomao won't acknowledge Jinshi's jealousy her only choice is to be so very terrible at reading the room that it seems like she's trolling Jinshi. She once again describes the situation in the most ambiguous way, so that the chance that Jinshi will misunderstand is maximized. It's 💋👌

Lady Gyokuyou would love this. It's so funny.

Maomao's bright response to Jinshi's question let's me know that even if she isn't willing to acknowledge the situation she isn't ignorant to it.

There are so many good lines here, I'm tempted to write them all.

Maomao: Nothing improper was going on. I was simply taking a good hard look.

Jinshi takes psychic damage.

Jinshi: I didn't realize the physical form was of such interest to you.

Maomao: It was absolutely necessary... ...It was to see if his body would be good enough. What better way to judge that than to inspect him myself?

Critical hit. Jinshi's down. If he isn't actually crying, it's a close thing.

Jinshi: Humor me. Based on what you observed... were you satisfied?

Jinshi's entire outlook for the future hinges on this answer.... LOL

Maomao goes on to explain what she can deduce based on an assessment of someone's appearance.

Jinshi, jealous: Then you should be able to tell what kind of person I am by looking at my body.

No sir, you are the exception, she very deliberately won't determine anything about you that challenges her delusions.

Maomao: Wait a minute? Is he jealous of Master Lihaku?

Um.... yeah!

Maomao: I can't believe this guy's ego! He just wants to brag about being prettier than him!

You almost had it, Maomao. So close.

Maomao lives in her own delusional world where she can admire Jinshi's beautiful, well toned figure and still convince herself that she has zero interest in him.

Maomao: I'd offer to inspect your body too, but there'd be no point.

A final blow. Gaoshun is thinking about what a hassle it is going to be to motivate Jinshi to work in the next few days when he's going to be crying in the corner again.

Once Jinshi knows what's going on, he decides to involved himself in Lihaku's business. He offers to put up the money for Lihaku to buy out Pairin's contract. Is he trying to remove a romantic rival or earn points with Maomao by supporting her big sis? Both probably.

Jinshi: You've met my cat. So you know she can be the cautious type. And yet she's willing to give you advice and consider you to be a legitimate candidate to be her sister's husband. So, I think that says enough.

Excuse me, did he just refer to Maomao as his cat?

Damn, the day Lihaku nonchalantly gave Maomao a hairpin, really, really, has paid off.

In fact Maomao is a boon to everyone in her life. We saw it twice this episode with Guen and now with Lihaku.

Lihaku: In short, if she's comfortable letting her guard down around me, I'm trustworthy.

Yeah, Jinshi didn't like that. He's worked for nearly two years to get Maomao to let down her guard around him with little success, but by all appearances, Maomao will do so easily with Lihaku. And that's... true. Lihaku, is not, and has never been, a threat to Maomao's heart. She can stare at his physique or talk intimately and it means nothing at all to Maomao. But of course Jinshi doesn't know that. Which is what makes this hilarious.

And perhaps the unspoken part of this deal, is that Lihaku take the money to go live happily with Pairin, and stay the fuck away from Jinshi's girl.

Jinshi has done his research on Lihaku. It seems he comes from a good family, but was recruited by Lakan. Interesting. Jinshi is listing Lihaku's merits, and he sounds almost sarcastic, like he's forcing the words.

Lihaku: While she might only be a courtesan to you. In my eyes, there's no other woman in the world for me.

Lihaku gives a very nice little speech to Jinshi about wanting to use his own wealth to get Pairin. And he says some very important words:

See Jinshi? He has no interest in your girl? You can rein in your jealousy now.

And Jinshi is relieved. He says he'll need to speak with Lihaku again soon. As brother-in-laws maybe?

It almost seems like Jinshi was testing Lihaku and he passed. Maybe making sure that Lihaku has integrity? Maybe Jinshi is thinking about bringing him into his very small trusted circle? Lord knows Jinshi could use more allies.

Lihaku has come a long way from demanding Maomao compensate him for helping her visit her father outside the palace, to refusing the free money he needs to free the woman he loves.

Jinshi and Gaoshun walk away, and Jinshi is much happier after this conversation. He doesn't have to worry about Lihaku as a romantic rival any more. Which is good for Jinshi, but sad for me.

Lihaku's not giving up. He keeps training, trying to advance his career, save his money, and connect with Pairin however he can. Maomao seems to think it's a hopeful match.

A certain someone came to talk to granny about making a purchase at the brothel and some of the servant girls got the wrong idea. Lakan apparently. What the hell is his game this time? Mess with Maomao's sisters to draw her out of the Rear Palace?

Next episode:

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

Coming soon!

[dxmoness]

𝕽𝖊𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 | 𝕮. 𝕽𝖊𝖌𝖚𝖑𝖚𝖘

A new invitation sent!

marquise's note: given in once more ;;

reminder: Name will be referred to as a noble name I made to fit the story more. Just refer to yourself as your own name if you wish.

A story between a crowned prince and a helpless noble happened years back. A girl of no right secretly seducing a boy who had every right in the kingdom. No one knew how or why the girl became a lover of the prince, but the rumors never seemed to stop. Later on the prince found another girl that caught his eye more than the girl he already adored. Its ending was a simple one. The girl was killed by the prince she loved for being framed to poisoning the said new lover. That was where the story ended, and where the new one was about to begin.

She was in a room. A void that did not hold a way out. Endless whispering around her was heard. Then the ground beneath her feet caved in, causing her to fall endlessly in a hole of nothingness.

CRASH! The sound of something crashing atop of another came clear into the mind. Ah. She had fallen asleep once more. "Are you two alright?" She called out as she rushed over to aid the two who had suddenly collided with much force. Eyeing the clock, it was officially the next day. They didn't have much longer before their shift ended. Might as well start cleaning up.

After the clean up, they rushed out of the building with determination of getting home and doing nothing. The day had been wasted away with a overtime shift. The good side was that tomorrow was a weekend. A perfect time to relax.

Waving goodbye to her colleagues, she got into her car and drove away. Eyes falling in sleepy manner, she couldn't wait to get into bed and finally sleep. Once at home, she collapsed onto her bed still in work attire. Eyes falling, she fell into deep slumber. One she would never get out of.

The sound of birds chirping came to view as she shifted in the comfort of her bed. Was it morning already? Opening her eyes, a gasp came audible from her mouth. She wasn't in her room. Heart racing at the thought of possibly being kidnapped, she got off the bed in a hurry.

A squeak was heard from behind her. She turned slowly at this and saw a female in what seemed to be a maid cosplay of sorts on her way towards her. She readied herself to defend herself if it was necessary. This girl could be a comrade of her kidnapper for all she knew.

The maid gently took her back to the bed, nervously eyeing the door and back at her in an endless cycle. Without so much as a word, the maid left hurriedly.

The door swung open and made a loud crashing sound. In came a male whose face did not betray any thought. "I see the effects of the poison have worn off." The tone was bland and his optics seemed to stare at her with disgust. "Do you have any idea on how much of a commotion you've caused these past few days?"

Her head was spinning with questions. What on earth was he talking about? What commotion? Who even was this man?

Since she had no idea at all of whatever was happening, she made sure to choose her next words wisely. As wisely as possible. "No. Not that...I've been informed of at the very least." This caused the unknown male to strike her across the face. She grabbed her cheek in pain as she stared daggers at the bastard.

The man did not spare her a second glance as he turned around making his way back to the door he came from. "Enjoy your next few weeks in here, Arvicia. They will be your last." Arvicia?? That was not her name. What the hell was going on? Before she could give an answer, the door slammed shut.

Days passed slowly. It made her assume she had gone mad. Wishing this was all a dream was futile. This was real. She wasn't herself anymore. Staring into the mirror was a far from healthy looking female. Seemingly beaten to the point that she barely looked like a said noble.

Finally, someone came barging into the dim room. The male was tall. His face gave no emotion as he pulled her up. "You look terrible." A deadpanned voice said, his green optics inspected her bedraggled state. Roughly dragging her out of the room, sparing her no mind.

Who the f*ck was this man? He could at least be gentle! There was a want to scream violently at this son of a b— no. She must compose herself. Who knew what this man could do to her if she made an attempt to insult him. After yanking her to the entrance of the home, they were greeted by a girl. One who was seemingly worried sick about her.

This one seemed quite familiar. The pink hair and gorgeous green eyes seemed a combination she had seen quite so many times. Then it hit her.

Penelope Eckart.

The villainess from that game she had been addicted to for the past months.

You mean to f*cking tell me... No no no. No fucking way. SHE'S IN THE GAME?!

Of all the fucking games it had to be the most stressful one ever made. This game was never her favorite. She only did it for the challenge. Also because she had been obsessed with the crowned prince. Other than that, it never occurred to her as a great game. After all IT charged you so much money to get a secret ending or any money from it! Not to mention how terribly stressful it is in hard mode.

Penelope inspected her closely. "What did they do to you?" There was anger in her voice. Wait, what was she to the villainess in this story?

A perfect recollection of the storyline in the game and never has she heard of the things that had happened to her these past few weeks.

What exactly was this? Which part did this occur and how? More questions than answers she supposed.

Suddenly Penelope's face was unreadable so she couldn't read her that well. But, an answer must be given soon enough. "Just a bit of torture methods is all." 'Just a bit' that was so nothing terrible could be done before she could figure things out.

"You've been gone for weeks!" The man finally snapped. He seized her and tightly grabbed her shoulders tightly. "Do you have any idea how riled up you got the public to be?!" Finally recognizing him, she noticed he was Reynold Eckart. Another character from the game. So this confirms everything.

What in the world did he mean by riled up? "What do you mean?" Her voice trailed off when she noticed Penelope's disappointed look. Did they think she knew?

"You don't remember?" The male's grip softened a little. "You were asked to dance with the crowned prince last time and that caused an entire riot. What have they been feeding you to forget about dancing with the crowned prince?"

Dancing... with.... who?!

"So you've found her first, more's the pity. I wanted her to see me as her 'hero'." A voice said, a chuckle following after it.

Penelope turned and so did the other two. "I see you've finally arrived, Your Highness."

Heart racing rapidly, as she came face to face with a man. One who she had been obsessing over for the past months.

Callisto Regulus.

taglist?? (Sorry for the tag <3)

@lady-navier0357