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mika-no-sekai-blog · 8 months ago

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Part IX

Word count: 2900+

Warnings: mentions of torturing, SA, fight and blood, some swearing

Autumn themed divider by tsunami-of-tears

This one is a bit more brutal and not the last such scene in this series, but I hope you'll like the moment Eris appears. Hopefully you'll see what I saw while writing it, the Lord of Autumn Court in full glory (I'm so tempted to draw him btw)

Part VIII | Part X

Eris was mad with rage, running faster and faster through the castle and its grounds like a fire breathing demon, leaving a havoc behind. He literally turned his estate upside down, not leaving a single thing on its original place, but Y/N disappeared without a trace.

Killian had never seen him like this. Right now he reminded him of their father, Beron, more than ever. Eris barked at everyone who came empty-handed, threatened and intimidated every aristocrat who lived in the castle and had ever expressed the slightest objection against him or his choice of wife. Even Killian didn't dare to get in his way. Every person in the castle was looking for Y/N day and night without a break to no avail.

"My Lord," a shy voice snapped him out of thoughts on his way to Eris's office.

Killian halted looking down on a small trembling lesser faerie that served in the kitchens.

"Yes? What is it?"

Even though he spoke softly, little faerie shivered like a leaf in the wind and nervously fidgeted with her fingers.

"I- I think I saw something suspicious the morning Lady has disappeared."

Killian's brows shot to his hairline as his eyes widened. Finally something that might be helpful. Quickly, he looked around, checking whether someone heard them and then gestured toward the closest empty chamber. The maid nodded and walked in. He closed and warded the doors behind.

"And now tell me everything." He turned to her with high expectations, urging her to speak.

"I was washing a lettuce near the well when I saw him."

"Who?"

"I-I don't know, my Lord," she sobbed.

"It's okay," he reassured her, forcing himself to speak calmly. "Tell me what you remember. Anything. Any small detail."

"I saw him only from behind. He was tall with long, dark brown hair. He carried a big bag on his shoulder. It was too big, that's why I found it so strange. As soon as he got out from the wards, he winnowed away."

Narrowing eyes, Killian nervously bit on his lower lip, his brain running at full speed. If that male could winnow, it meant that he was a high fae, but list of names was still too long.

"Did you notice anything else? A scar, unusual clothes, accessory, anything that could help me to identify him?"

The maid thought about it for a moment. "He.. he had a sword slung across his back. Quite long one. I think I saw some big gems on its hilt, but I'm not sure about the colour."

"What about its scabbard. Anything special?"

She shook her head. "It was just black with gold details I think."

Killian breathed out deeply. "Why haven't you said something sooner?"

The maid uncomfortably shifted under his piercing gaze. "I-I was scared. His Lordship was so angry when he stormed through kitchens like tornado. I thought that he would burn me down, if it turned out to be irrelevant.."

He laughed and ruffled her short auburn hair. "Silly girl! Go back to the kitchen. And not a word to a living soul, do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord," she quickly bowed and disappeared.

Killian didn't waste time and headed to Eris's office.

"Anything new?" he asked in his usual mocking tone as soon as the doors closed behind him. Eris was pacing around the room, the flames roaring in his veins caused that the air around him rippled.

"Do you think I would be here if I knew where she is?" he barked.

Killian lazily walked over to the window and leaned against the cool glass. This room was insufferably hot. It was a miracle that it hadn't caught fire yet.

"One little bird whispered to me that a certain lordling was here and when he was leaving he carried a human sized load."

In a blink of eye, Eris was on him, fisting the front of his tunic, his fingers burning holes into it.

"Who are you talking about?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm talking about a boring lordling with ego bigger than entire castle, who likes to brag about his stupid sword and wears it 24/7. I'm sure that he even takes a shit with it. Do you get it now?"

Eris's eyes widened with understanding. The blood froze in his veins. If that male kidnapped her, they didn't have much time to find her, especially if they hoped to find her alive. "But that bastard was banished from here after he took Volkan's side. So how did he get in?"

"Yeah, he was and I have no idea. That's something we will have to worry about later though."

Eris nodded. "Y/N is priority now. We need to get her back asap. Do we know where he is now? What does he do?"

Killian pressed lips into thin line. "No. We have no news about him nor Volkan ever since they left, unfortunately. If they are together, which certainly they are, they can be anywhere."

Eris swore, feverishly thinking. He ran hands through his hair, making it even messier than it already was. It could take weeks even months to find them and he didn't have so much time. There was no other way. He had to use his smokehounds once again. Only they could find her fast enough.

He stormed out from the office, heading to their chambers. He opened the doors to his wife's bedroom and looked around. There were no combs, no hair accessories. No jewellery she often wore. All clothes were washed. Everything was neat and clean, not a single hair left behind.

If he wanted to find her fast, he would need her blood or anything she often carried around and preferably nobody else had touched. He started to search the drawers, returning everything to its place. This room was like a sacred place to him, he wouldn't dare to make a mess here. However, the commotion drew attention of one of the girls Killian brought for her as her maid and companion.

"My Lord?"

"Where are all her personal things?" he asked while he rummaged through the mostly empty drawers.

"I'm afraid she doesn't have any.. She brought just few dresses with her. The only thing that could count is a necklace his Lordship gave her for birthday, but she wore it all the time. She had it on her even when.." she couldn't finish the sentence.

Eris shook his head in disbelief. "What about .. I don't know.. some diary? Handkerchief? Anything!" The girl just shook her head sadly.

"She lives here like the poorest priestess. Why none of you bothered to let me know she's struggling so much? I thought that you were supposed to take good care of her. I hoped I expressed myself clearly when I said I want her to have anything she wants or needs." Eris ran hand through his hair, barely suppressing the anger.

"She never complained about anything nor expressed the desire to have things.. We asked her at least thousands times, but she said that she didn't need anything. That she was satisfied with what she already had.." The girl started to cry, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Why do you talk about her in the past tense?" Eris growled lowly, his heart clenching in pain. "She isn't dead. She can't be.. not yet.."

The girl started crying even more and apologised again and again. It was clear that she sincerely missed Y/N and feared for her safety.

"Forget that," he growled angrily. He didn't have time for this sentiment right now. His patience was wearing thin. He needed to move on. "Where is her nightgown?"

"In laundry room I think." Eris closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Would maybe the dress from the birthday party be of any help? It's stained with her blood, but she insisted on keeping it."

Eris sharply turned to her. "Bring it right away!"

You woke up with a headache and a strange, unpleasant after-taste on your tongue in a dark room, lying on the cold stone floor. As your last memories cleared up, your heart raced up and you tried to sit up. You barely managed to stop the scream that almost escaped you as the ropes cut into your skin. Trashing you managed to roll to your side. You were terrified.

The sound of snap of fingers bounced off stone walls in the distance and the torches lit up. When your eyes got used to the bright light, you realized with horror that you were most likely in a cave, the room carved in stone reminding you of your former home. Steps echoed in the hallway and the door swung open.

You cried out with relief when you saw flash of red hair, pale skin and a glimpse of amber eyes, however the person who entered was unfamiliar. He was lazily stalking closer, hands in pockets, watching you like wolf observing the future meal.

"So this is the whore he's chosen over a pure blood." The raspy, cold voice of the male made you shiver in fear. This person wasn't here to help you.

"I told you, didn't I?" Another male who you hadn't noticed before, snarled from threshold. That one had dark brown hair. You doubted that you had ever seen him. You would remember the ugly scar that just miraculously missed his eye, stretching all the way down to the corner of his mouth, giving him a permanent one-sided grin.

The red head crouched before you and painfully squeezed your jaw, turning your face from side to side to get a better look.

"It's not too bad. My brother's taste isn't so horrible after all. Maybe we could have some fun before we get rid of her. There aren't any females to fuck around here anyway. What do you think?"

"Please.." you sobbed almost inaudibly, but they only laughed. No matter how much you would plead with them, it wouldn't work. It never did with this type of males. So you just pressed your lips together, determined not to make another sound.

The first tears slid down your cheeks as you were shivering there, completely in mercy of those two strangers. They could do with you anything they wanted. You wouldn't be able to protect yourself, anyway. They were much bigger and stronger than you. And there was no one who could come to rescue you in time.

"What are you staring at?" The redhead snarled when he stopped laughing and hit your head on the ground with such strength the room again darkened for a brief moment.

You wanted to scream for help but you knew it would go unanswered, more over you would only enraged them, provoked them to continue.

"That whore doesn't even plead anymore. It seems that she enjoys it," the other one laughed and came closer.

The redhead stood up, then he picked you up by your hair and punched you. The pain shot from the cheek to whole your body and more tears welled up in your eyes. During the months you spent in your husband's castle you'd almost forgotten how much the beating hurt, but it wasn't any worse than what your father did to you.

"Not even a small noise. This is going to be such fun," the redhead snarled delighted.

They started to punch you and kick you around without a break until you couldn't take it anymore and cried out. They seemed to be pleased with it and continued using you as a punch bag. Only once you weren't able to move even the slightest, your body aching so much you hardly could take a small sip of air, the redhead began reaching for the hem of your skirt.

You were already at the end of your strength, hardly perceiving what was happening to you. The darkness was reaching for you and calling you to its emptiness when a real inferno had began.

At first there were only shouting voices and sounds of fight, then the entrance exploded in the flames, hot air fanning over your face and making already labored and painful breathing even harder.

Out of the all consuming fire a figure in silver armour with bright red cape stepped out, unaffected, unbothered by flames licking his body. His eyes were burning even brighter than the fire around him, his face twisted with rage. The moment he saw you on the ground, covered in blood and bruises, a deafening roar broke through from the depths of his chest and he turned into bloodthirsty demon.

"Volkan!" Eris snarled, the ire dripping from every syllable. "I'll burn you down to ashes with my own hands for this!"

The other scarred male ran away as soon as Eris appeared, but the redhead stood up to him, eager for fight.

"Let's end it here and now, brother," he spatted out the word with utter disgust. "You shouldn't have become the High Lord. You aren't suitable for that. You aren't enough ruthless and cruel for that. With such, you can't rule the Autumn."

"You are wrong," Eris snarled with wild grin. "I can and I do rule the Autumn Court. You had to hide in the Middle to survive. You aren't suitable for ruling. Remember? You are the one who was never enough."

Whatever Eris referred to, the redhead reacted to that with a battle cry and charged towards him with a sword made out of fire.

You didn't recognize your husband. He was like a beast released from the hottest depths of hell and he fought like that, too.

The fire met the fire in such a fierce fight that stone walls cracked and the whole mountain shook. Somewhere above you, you heard collapsing ceilings. The sounds of fight outside the room instantly stopped, replaced by shouting men trying to evacuate the place and save their lives. However, two brothers hadn't faltered and continued their merciless fight, determined to kill each other.

The stone walls of the room you were in, shook for the last time and started to collapse. The redhead cried out in pain as part of ceiling collapsed at the place where he stood, burying him under the stone. As the rest of the ceiling began collapsing, Eris lunged at you and in the last moment winnowed you away.

Darkness and unpleasant pull were replaced with fresh, cool night air that filled your lungs as you found yourself lying on your back in the middle of the courtyard of Forest House surrounded by dirty, tired and hurt soldiers. Everyone was panting, some even groaning, several needed to sit down or leaned for support against the closest wall.

Your eyes found the stars above, winking down at you, unchanged, their cold beauty soothing some of the worst pain. With difficulty you were fighting the darkness lurking at the edges of your mind, but you needed to see him, to make sure he was alive. You couldn't even count how many times in your life you were beaten to blood, how many bones were broken in the process, yet it had never been so bad as now.

Small whimper escaped you as you were trying to turn your head to the side where you felt his hand holding yours. The rope you were bound with, disappeared while you were winnowed from that place. The armour screeched against the cobblestone as groaning Eris pushed himself up into a semi-sitting position and bent over you.

He was dirty, a trail of blood running from his hair line to his chin, another from the corners of his mouth. A bruise was starting to form under his left eye. Silver lined his eyes as his gaze roamed over your face and he reached for you stopping just an inch from your skin, afraid to touch you.

You smiled at him, every muscle in your face protesting. "You came for me." Tears slid from your eyes, cooling the hurting flesh on its way.

"Of course I did. I couldn't leave my wife in hands of those bastards. You can't even imagine how worried and scared I was when you disappeared. I was going crazy-"

His words were cut off as Killian with smaller army of healers rushed from the doors, interrupting whatever Eris was about to say with his strong voice.

"Take care of the wounded," he shouted the orders and immediately was at your side. At first he noticed his brother and paled.

"We need one healer here," he shouted out.

"Or rather three," he added when his gaze fell to you. "I'm so relieved to see you alive, dear sister."

He reached for your hand, but just like Eris, changed his mind half way through and his hand halted, awkwardly hanging in the air. Eris growled.

Killian cleared his throat. "Easy. I don't want to hurt her. What happened?" he demanded. "Is he dead?"

"I think so," Eris grunted, his eyes never leaving yours. "But I'd love to be sure he's gone for good. Also, that bastard Nair escaped as soon as he saw me."

Killian nodded. "I will send someone to check on it and look for Nair."

"Give them rather shovels and pickaxes. They will need them."

Killian blinked in confusion, but before he could ask why, bunch of healers shoved him aside, examining Eris's and your injuries. Eris refused to let go of your hand that he was still holding, snarling at anyone who tried to reason with him. In the end, healers figured that it would be much easier for you both if you took a nice, deep nap and so they put you to sleep with a single flick of wrist. Eris collapsed as first and you followed right after him.

#acotar #sarah j maas #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #acotar fanfiction #eris fanfic #eris fic #eris x you #pro eris #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #ghost of love #gol #high lord of autumn #autumn court

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dootznbootz · 1 year ago

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that WHO in no longer u oh my GOD

YESSSS

Like, yeah, Odysseus is like "Yandere" (joking but also not) because kills all who even go near Penelope and Telemachus and he's very protective of them AND jealous.

But I think this "WHO?!" is also a desperate plea as to who is this dangerous man who is near his wife? A warlord? A conquerer? A man who would not even care about Penelope for who she is and mistreats her?

Because even in the Odyssey, Odysseus asks about Penelope to his mother.

Tell me of the wife I married. What are her thoughts and plans? Is she still there with our son, keeping watch on everything? Or has she been married to the finest of Achaeans?

(Book 11, Johnston)

There's not even much resentment in his question. There could be but Narrator does not say. The use of "the finest of Achaeans" almost is a "Did she at least marry the best man? Did she at least marry a GOOD man?"

In "No Longer You", when he hears of this dangerous man NEAR his wife, he is SCARED. It could be jealousy but I feel it's more of concern. As it is in the Odyssey.

"I understand if she would remarry, it pains me but I did tell her that when Telemachus finally grows his beard, she could. I will love her always but is she at least happy? Is she safe?"

And she's not safe. She's not happy. He is terrified.

Psst. The reason why My Odysseus takes a long time to grow his beard is because of that line. He's hoping that his son will take after him and take forever to grow a beard like he did (as he doesn't really have one even when he first leaves for Troy) because he would try forever to get home. Penelope even teases him that he still doesn't have one so that's a silly request and that's the point. "I will never stop trying to come back to you. He and I will likely remain beardless forever." (it's a little funky for him when he finally grows one by the end of Troy. He's thinking "...Shit. Telemachus, stay baby-faced for your dad please.")

ANYWAYS.

I mean we all know that these two are obsessed with each other in the Odyssey and in Epic. They are likeminded and are so integral to who they are. They mean everything to one another. I think Odysseus genuinely does want Penelope happy. As even in the Odyssey with him simply asking for another bed, shows how much he loves and respects her. He could've been like "get in it" even though she had rejected him at first but he LISTENS BECAUSE HE LOVES HER. Only breaking down into a sobbing mess when he believes she destroyed their bed.

"Heaven made you as you are, but for sheer obstinacy you put all the rest of your sex in the shade. No other wife could have steeled herself to keep so long out of the arms of a husband she had just got back after nineteen years of misadventure. Well, nurse, make a bed for me to sleep alone in. For my wife's heart is just about as hard as iron."

(Book 23, Rieu)

Please note that this is his attempt to insult her in a way and yet he still talks about her being from Heaven 👀 SIMP

But even though he's deeply hurt by her rejection (poor guy would've probably sobbed himself to sleep) He still asks for another bed. After sleeping on the floor and in the dirt since he's been on Ithaca, refusing beds unless it's his own marriage bed, he takes her 'no' because he values her happiness and comfort over his own. He takes a lesser bed so she can still sleep in their own luxurious one.

I mean we know how fucking awful the suitors are. Hold Them Down is a disturbing song. (as it should be. As they are not good men) He does not even know how bad these men are yet. If his future self could speak with his past self, he'd probably be like "Yeah, don't worry about the guy who kills a bunch of people, they had it coming. ;) " or something.

That "WHO?!" is a mix of jealousy AND fear.

#I'm sorry y'all I'm so exhausted as I've had a lot of shit happen and oof #so this is messy but I hope I got my point across lol #epic the musical #epic the underworld saga #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #no longer you #my headcanons #ask #anon #penelope #odysseus #odypen #essay #penelope of ithaca

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lou-struck · 7 months ago

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Cancellation Comfort Part 2

Featuring: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belpheghor

Part 1 HERE

Part 3 to come

~ One of the things I hate the most in this world is when the same person repeatedly makes plans with me and then flakes on me the day of. One of my primary Love Languages is Quality time, so it really stings to get all ready and excited to go somewhere only to get the call an hour later to cancel.

~ This is how the Obey Me Boys would treat you after you were flaked on.

Satan ~

A large log crackles under the heat of the fireplace as Satan eagerly flips through the pages of the latest novel he has been devouring when he notices you scampering around the room collecting your things.

He recalls telling him earlier that you are going to the Carnival with your new Witch friend and are so excited to get to know her better. As adorable as your excitement is, he has a bad feeling in his gut, he knows this witch well and she is a notorious flake.

But as he watches you eagerly search for your wallet, he can’t bring himself to warn you. The last thing he wants to do is put a damper on your good time so he keeps his mouth shut and hopes that this new friend of yours has changed.

Just as he reaches the last few chapters of his book, he notices that you are still waiting in the other room to be picked up.

Lowering his novel, he focuses all his attention on you as you try and fail to get ahold of them, getting sent straight to voicemail every time.

Are they just flat out ignoring you?

His wrath comes alive and it takes everything in him to not tear his book into two. His hands are shaking as he places a bookmark between the crisp pages and he slams it shut. The loud noise captures your attention and you look up at him with guilt on your features.

It’s almost as if you think that it is your fault your friend decided to cancel on you.

His heart feels so tender he cannot be angry at all. His arms wrap around you as he softly pets your hair, in the same manner he does to the cats at the animal shelter he volunteers at.

“They aren't worth it Mc,” he murmurs, “Forget about them and you and I will go and have our own fun.”

He may not be used to the whole ‘comforting humans’ thing but he can tell from the thin smile that appears on your lips that he may be starting off on the right foot.

Asmodeus ~

He had helped you get ready to go to Bar Trivia with a witchy friend of yours who apparently goes every week. You just looked so cute he wanted to keep you all to himself but he understood the importance of getting to spend some time with others.

You left him earlier tonight with a kiss on the cheek and the eager promise that you would tell him any juicy gossip when you got home.

The Avatar of Lust could hardly contain his excitement so he took his energy over to the Fall in hopes of getting equally as interesting tea to share with you at the end of the night.

But he hadn’t even made it through the front doors when he notices someone familiar standing in line.

His peach colored eyes narrow as he recognizes your friend standing in line with several other witches and lesser demons he couldn't care to remember the names of without you.

He pulls out his DDD and checks your location (because obviously you share them with eachother) and sees that you are still at the Bar you were supposed to meet them at.

It breaks his heart when he sees your little sheep icon exit the bar and slowly walk back toward the HOL

Although he is not one for Cardio, Asmo turns and starts to run towards the little blinking icon. Heels be damned. He moves through the streets like a comet until he sees You, still clad in his jacket walking home at a snail's pace. Quietly sobbing into the sleeve.

The sound breaks is heart and he calls your name

You turn at the noise, and he sees that there is more than just puffy eyes and runny makeup on your face.

He sees embarrassment.

He wastes no time scooping your into his arms and putting his manicure to work scratching your back. “Oh Hon… I’m sorry.” he frowns into your neck.

You sniffle and tell him everything about how the group had planned to go clubbing instead and forgot to tell you. You look so dejected and mention that you never should’ve left the HOL tonight.

“Mc, you look so cute.” he smiles tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. “It would be a waste to have you go home and sulk after all my hard work. How about this? I’ll take you out on a special little date and by the time I'm done you wont even remember those Witches names.”

He can tell from the look in your eye that you are more than happy to accept his invitation.

Beelzebub~

Today is the day, the snack subscription box he ordered from the human world has finally arrived. He is nearly giddy as he rips open the massive box and dumps its contents on his bed. And as he looks over the mountain of treats and sweets, he feels as if he is looking over it like they are the spoils of war.

But instead of digging in like normal he decides to call for you, after all, you are from the human world and maybe you would want to eat some of these snacks with him.

He pokes his head out the door, ready to call out to you, but you pass right by his doorway all dressed up. The first thing he notices is that you look good.

Really good…

So good that for a moment he does not feel hungry at all.,,

“Oh Mc, you look really nice today.” he says with a bright smile. “Are you going somewhere?”

He notices the way his little compliment makes you grin as you stop and look up to him. Telling him that are about to get picked up for a meeting with one of the demons you are supposed to be working with for a RAD event at a new restaurant to go over some details.

Seeing you look so happy makes his heart feel full. But the cherry on top is that you offered to bring him back a togo order from the restaurant when you are done.

Needless to say, you left Beel feeling over the moon as he returns to oogaling his pile of exotic snacks. He even sets aside one package of one of your favorite candies and places it into an enchanted lock box so he doesn't end up eating it before you get home.

It’s been a few hours since he ate his snack stash and Beel is once again hungry. His stomach rumbles and he remembers that you are bringing home that togo order for him. Pulling out his DDD, he pulls up your location to see that your little sheep icon is at the House of Lamination. He walks down to the kitchen and finds you sitting up at the countertop, still in your outfit from earlier. He opens his mouth to ask you about the togo box but catches a glimpse of the frown you are now wearing.

He doesn't feel like eating any more.

How can he when you look so sad.

Just then you notice that you are being watched and turn to see the Avatar of Gluttony. You are quick to apologize for not bringing any food home. But explain that you never actually left the house tonight. Apparently the demon you were supposed to be meeting kept you meeting for about two hours and then decided to cancel on you.

Hearing this, Beel just stands rooted to the floor in confused disbelief as he tries to wonder why anyone would want to cancel plans with you.

A small sound pulls him from his pondering and you shyly cover your gowling stomach and admit that you were so excited for dinner you didn't want to spoil your appetite.

“You havent eaten?” he says softly. His brow furrows as he steps toward you and gently helps you off of the little bar stool you had been perched upon. “Lets go out and get something to eat.”

“Okay okay, but wait for just a sec Beel,” you say with a smile, clearly cheering up a bit. “I just need to put my shoes back on.”

Belphegor~

The Avatar of Sloth is absolutely exhausted from his walk to the mailbox and is searching the HOL for the perfect spot to rest his eyes. His tired legs carry him clumsily to the living room where he spots you on the couch.

His perfect resting spot.

Through his droopy lids, he notices that you are not dressed for bed, you look like you are about to go out somewhere. When he asks why you look so good, you laugh and say that you are going to a special concert tonight with one of your new friends.

Apparently their boyfriend is in a new band in the Devildom’s underground. and you were invited to go backstage with her and watch them play and you are super excited to go. Your eye shine with a light of eagerness as you speak that makes belphie feel all warm inside.

“That sounds like fun,” he yawns settling down on the couch next to you, his head finds its rightful spot on your lap. “When are you leaving?”

“About an hour, I just had to get ready a bit earlier since I needed to drink an anti siren song potion so I could listen to the band safely.” you say, your fingers already playing with the sleepy demon's hair.

Your friend is dating a rocker siren guy? Why does that sound so familiar? Belphie tries to remember, but he is just so comfortable laying on your lap, he finds himself drifting off.

~ by the time he wakes up, he realizes that he is still asleep on your lap. Immediately, his eyes open an alarm and he realizes that you are also asleep.

You were so excited about going to your friend's concert that he would feel terrible if you missed it because of him. He is about to wake you up when he sees the screen of your DDD screen light up with a text from the demon you were gonna meet.

Belphie would never call himself a snoop, but when he reads the name of the demon you were supposed to meet up with, everything clicks into place.

He’s never liked that demon… Something about her just screams gatekeep.

He unlocks your device and opens the message. It immediately opens up to your text exchange with your ‘friend’ who basically uninvites you from the concert tonight since a human like you would never be able to appreciate such deep music.

Belphie is furious to say the least, and even in the dim living room lighting he can see the drying tear streaks on your sleeping face.

With a sigh he sets down the device and moves you into a more comfortable position on the couch.

Revenge can wait, the first thing he needs to do is comfort his human and make sure that you know just how loved and appreciated you are.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #lucifer x reader #levi x reader #mammon x reader #x reader

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wolfnight2012 · 2 years ago

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Yes, Nandor fell to his knees when the Baron dumped "Guillermo's" body in the foyer. (In Front Of his entire family [sans Colin Robinson] and the Baron!) As if he could no longer bring himself to care about who saw him break down/how weak he might be perceived

Yes, cradled (what he thought was) Guillermo's dead body

Yes, his little half-sobbed "Oh, no" was very telling & heartbreaking

But let's talk about his positively distraught cries when he thought Laszlo was gonna desecrate Guillermo's corpse???

Because that's Guillermo to him. As in, that's still Guillermo to Nandor, even as a corpse.

And that's not something we see often with vampires in the wwdits world

Vampires here seem to simply accept death & move on. Once someone/something is considered dead, it is time to move on

Our main characters do it with the Baron. He gets fried to a crisp, they bury him, say a few half-hearted words, and move on (he's Nadja's sire! He had a trist with both her and Laszlo. He's like, their unofficial superior/boss, in that he can order them to take over North America & just like, move into their home?)

They do it with Colin Robinson, twice! Both when he fakes his death in 2x05 (simply bury him & say a few words) and to a lesser(ish) extent when he "dies" on his 100th birthday (few words, few sentimental touches & thats it, we move on)

Nadja does it with her reincarnated lover, able to drop him/forget about him the moment he dies

iirc, the only instances that don't follow this pattern is when the dead person isn't considered truly dead (yet)

Nandor wastes no real time grieving Gail, because she's not dead dead (yet) he can fix her! She's temporarily not alive at worst.

Topher, similarly, can be revived (or so they think) so he's not dead dead either, because he can be fixed. Once its clear he can't be truly fixed, they can easily discard & forget about him.

Young Colin Robinson isn't dead dead either. His adult self is alive & well (and back) Laszlo is simply grieving the fatherhood/son that only exists in his memories.

Guillermo is dead dead. Either because vampirism only takes immediately after death or because the Baron would simply kill him again, turning him into a vampire isn't an option. (And I like to think they learned their lesson with the necromancer/zombie!Topher)

Guillermo is dead dead & everyone reacts accordingly: the Baron chills out immediately, even feeling a little bad (not for Guillermo's death, he was only a familiar after all) for causing a fellow vampire/one of the vampires he's arguably closer to pain

Nadja (who was fighting & scheming & panicked to save him) declares he should be buried before he starts to stink. She might care about Guillermo & consider him family (even if she'd never say those actual words) but the body on the floor isn't Guillermo anymore, it's just a corpse that needs disposing.

Meanwhile, Nandor has accepted Guillermo's death; he's not planning on how to revive him/bring him back.

Guillermo is dead dead.

But Nandor is still protective of what he should only consider to be a corpse now. That's still Guillermo to him.

He cradles him up off the floor. He gently brushes his hair back. He's distraught at the thought of Laszlo cutting him up, even in death.

Anyways, there's zero chance of Nandor trying to kill Guillermo in earnest. That man could not handle the emotional toll

#never you mind #wwdits #wwdits spoilers #wwdits meta #nandor the relentless #nandermo #wolf's posts

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ilikefelines · 7 months ago

Text

A Thousand Cuts Until Insanity

Day 7 (October 20) - Moment That Made Alicent Your Favourite Character • Dowager Queen • Free Choice

Written for Alicent Hightower Appreciation Week 2024.

Word Count: 5604

Summary: Alicent Hightower — stretched too thin, flung far out.

@alicenthightowerdaily

@zaldritzosrose (For the divider's. Thank you.)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59901373

Aemond was the quietest of them at birth, though both his siblings were born red-faced and sobbing. Grand Maester Mellos had been concerned for his health.

“He was born too early,” the venerable man had told his king, “and I fear that he shall not survive the year.”

“The boy has lived this long already,” she remembered her husband replying, “and Alicent tells me he has a fierce appetite.”

That had been true enough, and the knowledge that her husband had been paying attention to their children had warmed Alicent, back then. Of course, he cares, she’d thought with girlish excitement, Aemond is his blood. But with age came wisdom, and Alicent now knew that Viserys’s response had not found its roots in love, or even in a vague sense of concern for his third-born child, but in apathy. It was easy to preserve one’s sense of ease when one did not care. Five of his children died in the womb or the cradle; what’s another?

Queen Alicent Hightower pulled herself out of her thoughts when she heard the herald’s voice. It sliced through the air like a heated blade through suet, and bile rolled in the pit of her stomach.

“Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, her consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon, rider of Seasmoke”—Lord Corlys’s latest attempt to save face, no doubt—" and their son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.” Immediately, Viserys stirred in his seat at the very centre of the grand table placed upon the dais, grinning with anticipation as his daughter and her bastard ascended the steps.

He kissed Rhaenyra’s forehead, embracing her. “Look how Jacaerys has grown!” he exclaimed, always happy enough to embrace his role as grandsire. “If the lad carries on like this, he’ll soon be old enough to serve as my cupbearer at council.” He swung the plump one-year-old into his arms, causing him to giggle, while all the while Alicent could see Aemond watching with hunger in his eyes from his position on her lap. This was her babe’s third name day, and the feast that was being held this morn was supposed to be for his sake, but you wouldn’t know it from the way Viserys was comporting himself.

As the princess and her husband took their places above the salt, a gong was rung and serving girls began to carry in the royal family's food, whilst down below, half-a-hundred knights and lords of lesser rank dug into their trenchers with alacrity. And that was only at the outer tables – two hundred more guests had managed to cram themselves into the hall, and in the courtyards of the keep, the retinues, with their assortment of men-at-arms and hangers-on, were feasting. Every lord thinks to outdo the other in affinity. Half the inns in the capital were full of nobles who, arriving late, could not be allowed rooms in the Red Keep.

The Small Hall rang with the sound of chattering voices, and clanking cutlery; dogs fought viciously for scraps underneath the tables, as the wine flowed and flowed and flowed. Alicent saw one girl—Lord Tarly’s oldest niece, she was sure—giggling with her betrothed, a Crane squire. She wondered what it felt like, being so uncomplicatedly happy, with your whole life ahead of you; she glanced at the king, whose liver-spotted hands quivered as he brought a silver spoon to his mouth.

At two-and-twenty, Alicent felt with grim certainty that all youth had long been wrung out of her. Still, at least the fare’s adequate. King and court could have no possible complaints to that end. The table upon the dais was laden with hearty beef stew, three large lamprey pies, a giant swan dressed in its plumage, stuffed with songbirds and mutton, and tender morsels of venison swimming in a creamy soup of mushrooms and blandissory, amongst twenty other dishes of varying delicacy.

After the king, the choicest options were served to the table directly below their own, the one occupied by Alicent's own family, who’d been amongst the first to arrive from their seat at Oldtown. Alicent met Lord Hobert's eye — her uncle inclined his head in genteel acknowledgement.

The feast was not a bad one; indeed Alicent had spent many an evening planning the affair with the king’s steward and the Hand, Lord Strong. And yet, the celebrations for Jacaerys Waters’s —Alicent would never think of him as a prince, despite his mother’s brazen lying—first name day had taken up nearly an entire month, with tourneys and balls, and feasting every night. The beggars were well-fed at least, she thought with bitterness; what the courtiers had deigned to leave behind, Alicent had given to the poor that gathered at the Red Keep’s postern gate of an evening.

She manoeuvred Aemond more securely onto her lap. He was too young yet, to stomach any of the other food, so she scooped spoonful's of pottage into his mouth. “Such a good boy,” she murmured to him, kissing the back of his head. Alicent could feel the soft curvature of his skull against her lips, still delicate after his recently ended infancy. “You’ve no trouble with your food, now do you, Aemond?”

Helaena did not do well with loud noises and large groups of people, and Aegon had been all but barred from the feast after the incident in his father’s apartments, Ser Criston his constant shadow, so it was just her and Aemond at the king’s side. After all, he was the name day boy.

“A toast!” Lord Jason Lannister's drunken voice rang out. “To Prince Aemond — may His Grace have cause to celebrate many and more name days in the future!” The entire hall let out a raucous cheer, whilst the little prince looked with interest at all the people who’d come to King’s Landing for him.

“Is this feast only for me, Mother?” her child asked, his voice a breathless whisper.

She gave him a fond smile. “Yes, my sweet. And this evening we shall open your presents!” The queen smoothed Aemond’s hair, her mind far away. Alicent did not notice her son reaching for the king's chalice until it was too late. There was a splash and the chalice clanged against the floor.

“Alicent!” Viserys barked, and she felt herself grow cold, dread pooling into the pit of her stomach. “Control the boy, please!”

Hippocras had been spilt all over Viserys’s new cloth-of-silver tunic, staining it irreversibly. The queen quickly gathered Aemond against her, shushing his incessant questions—" Mother, why’s the king angry?”—as three maids cleaned up the spilt wine. She could hear Viserys’s grumbles and could feel the annoyed looks he was sending her—all the hair on the back of Alicent’s neck rose, goose flesh rising along her arms. She suppressed a yawn, as Aemond squirmed in her lap, wanting to walk: the king called for me last night, did he not?

Alicent could only remember leaving the room. Everything after that was merely darkness, and then a long harrowing walk back to her chambers, where Talya had a warm bath prepared for her. The more Alicent thought of it, the more her palms sweated. Her mouth went dry, and she felt as if her throat was closing up, and no matter how much air she gasped for, she couldn’t breathe—

“Mother?” Aemond asked, and he sounded uncertain. Alicent tried to smile at him, but it came out as a grimace. Odd flashes of memory were filling the queen’s mind—the smell of herbs, a thin scarecrow of a hand covered in mottled flesh reaching for her, peeling skin and the smell of ointment, three rats moving along a bedroom's rafters—and she was going to be sick. She felt liquid working its way up her throat. The queen stood, ignoring the stares of the feasting courtiers, and placed her son down into her chair. She swallowed convulsively.

“Aemond,” Alicent said, voice strained, “stay with your father. I’ll be right back.” She rushed out of the side door behind the dais, ignoring Viserys’s shouted queries. Alicent could hear Aemond crying. She opened the door, barely managing to shut it before the vomit finally caught up with her, spilling out onto the floor as Alicent gasped and coughed and spluttered. Half of it landed on her, soaking the silk of her cornflower blue gown. She heaved and heaved and heaved until she was sure it was over. It's back.

If she were mad enough to return in her current state, the princess and her lickspittles would likely die from laughter. Of late, no one enjoyed her misfortune more than Rhaenyra, Alicent knew, though the queen had means of getting back at the wretch, means which she would allow to grow fat and ripe before she reaped them. The light of the windows illuminated swirling dust motes, highlighting the red in Alicent’s hair.

Her mind felt disoriented as if she’d just banged her head against the floor. Placing one foot in front of the other, Alicent allowed the simple rhythm of left, right, left, right to guide her back to her rooms. The servants ducked their heads as she passed them by. Alicent could sense their eyes following her. I’ll have Larys deal with them. Half the court was at the feast, or elsewise enjoying the grand pyromancer’s entertainments Viserys had ordered put on in the city, so the corridors were deserted.

“Talya!” Alicent’s voice sounded shrill to her ears, as she burst into her apartments. “Are you here?”

Her gown stuck to her clammy skin; she pulled it off, the acrid smell of sick almost overpowering her senses.

“Your Grace?” Talya appeared — from whence Alicent knew not — with an armful of linen, dark eyes wide with disquiet. A frisson of cold understanding settled into them as she took in her queen’s panicked state.

“Water,” Alicent gasped, but the handmaid had already abandoned her previous task, running to fetch a small wooden basin and filling it with tepid water from the ewer. The queen was able to master herself then, as Tayla locked the door and peeled off her mistress's shift and hose and stockings, wiping away her sweat with a cool cloth as Alicent stood in the basin. It was only when she was clean and dressed in a new shift, that the gut-churning fear within her subsided.

“It happened again, Your Grace?” Talya asked, bony fingers digging into the red rough spun of her apron.

Alicent nodded, taking in slow, steady breaths. Viserys will be wondering where I am. She’d left Aemond there, she realised, and anxiety prickled its way up her spine, replenishing her dying dread.

“Clearly. And I was so sure it was over with.” Alicent let out a scornful laugh. Much good that assumption had done her. “I do not know what is wrong with me. Perhaps I've gone mad.”

The handmaid shifted from foot to foot. “You should talk to a maester.” Alicent looked at her sharply, but Talya was uncowed. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but you’ve been like this since young Prince Aegon’s birth. I worry that it'll worsen, should you ignore it again.”

Most servants wouldn’t dare talk to the queen in such a manner, but Alicent had an understanding with Talya. When the young queen returned to her rooms dead-eyed and trembling at night, with the scent of Viserys’s rotting flesh still in her nostrils, it was Talya who attended her and set her at ease.

Alicent scoffed. “I’m sure Maester Mellos shall find my ailment to be eminently curable. ‘Oh yes, Maester, I cannot stand the sound of my husband's voice. It sends me into hysteria.’” Her voice hardened. “No, Talya. Any maester would think me insane. They’d take my children from me. I have borne this malady for six years. I can bear it six years more.” Alicent poured herself a cup of mint cordial from a nearby flagon, swilling it about her mouth to remove the lingering taste of vomit, and stood up in one smooth movement. “Now help me dress. I require another gown.”

The queen returned to the feast garbed in a gown that reminded her of home. The high-necked bodice was all Myrish lace, delicate as a spider's web and stitched onto a panel of cream silk. The tippet sleeves were so long that their points brushed the floor, lined with miniver and edged in a grey dark as smoke. Let them think I left for frivolity. A change of clothing to soothe my vanity. Her eyes slid across the hall. The feast had well and truly reached its peak, the noise so loud that it almost shook the rafters.

“You should never have left so abruptly,” the king told her, as Alicent seated herself with easy grace. She could see Viserys’s pockmarked face, frowning at her out of the corner of her eye, but took no notice. “Aemond’s been pestering my daughter. See to him, before he causes any more trouble.” He glanced meaningfully down at his ruined tunic.

Sure enough, she found Aemond perched on the arm of his half-sister’s chair. The boy was talking her ear off, something to do with dragons. “Is it true that Syrax is fat?” The little prince asked and Alicent winced.

His half-sister replied in a flat voice, “Perhaps it seems that way because she’s no longer a juvenile.” Rhaenyra fiddled with her golden rings, as Laenor handed Jacaerys to a nurse. The babe wailed as he was carried out of the hall.

“Doesn’t matter. Everyone knows that Aegon’s dragon is prettier,” Aemond declared, with that strange confidence that was unique to toddlers alone. “He even looks like the sun. That’s why he’s called—”

“Sunfyre,” Rhaenyra interrupted, voice heavy with sarcasm. “I never would have guessed.” The golden coronet sitting atop the princess’s braid flashed in the light filtering through the stained glass windows.

Rhaenyra had dressed in her usual opulent fashion. Her gown was one of darkest red, like freshly spilt blood, slashed with rich purple damask at the skirts. A heavy chain of gold, to match her coronet, sat along her bodice, wrought in the shape of falcons.

Beside her, Ser Laenor shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The heir to Driftmark looked handsome in a mauve doublet, with the seahorse of House Velaryon picked out on his yellow half-cape in hundreds of tiny winking diamonds.

Aemond had finally noticed his mother, running to her with a squeal of joy. “Alicent,” the princess murmured, as Aemond buried his chubby face in her skirts, “I understand that you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence. I do wonder at your hasty departure, though. Was it Aegon?”

Alicent’s mind had gone blank, her limbs leaden with sudden fatigue. “What?”

“Were you seeing to another one of my half-brother’s mischiefs, Your Grace?” Rhaenyra took a sip from her glass. The princess's cheeks were flushed pink, her lips stained with Arbor Red. “That boy can’t keep his hands to himself.”

Alicent felt her hackles rising. The princess was freshly twenty-one and Aegon six, and yet she hated her half-brother with a passion that took the queen’s breath away. “Rest assured, Rhaenyra, Aegon is in his rooms, watched over by Ser Criston.”

Rhaenyra is a fool, Alicent reminded herself. Should she wish, Alicent could ruin her with a single sentence, but Ser Criston’s life stayed her hand. The Marcherman had proved himself a faithful knight. She would not use his past mistakes against him. Princess Rhaenyra had thrown herself onto the Kingsguard, stolen his honour and played him for a fool. In doing so, she’d earned herself a dangerous enemy in his person. The queen thought of brown-haired sworn swords and uncanny resemblances. He was not the princess’s only enemy, of late.

“They’re bringing the cake!” Aemond’s high-pitched voice broke Alicent out of her reverie.

Sure enough, servants swarmed their table, carrying honeycombs and sugar spun into the shape of slender towers, cream cakes and fruit tarts, a giant towering jellies and date scones, along with all the fruits of summer. Viserys slurped as he ate a melon, bits of its pale flesh stuck between his yellowing teeth. Juice ran down his chin, as he reached for another.

“Only one cake,” Alicent warned Aemond. She would not have her son sickening himself before his nap. “And if you’re very good, I’ll let you share some more with Aegon upon the morrow.”

Her son's response was not the one she’d anticipated. “Aegon’s always sad.”

Alicent sighed, beginning to usher Aemond back across to their seats when she heard Rhaenyra’s voice, loud and distinct amidst the tumult of the feast.

“As well he should be,” the princess's voice slurred. “He should be flogged. That’ll teach him to keep his hands to himself. Who was he to touch my mother's belongings?”

Alicent froze, breathed in, and felt her chest expand with it. She glanced at her husband but he was pretending deafness, eyes focused on his lemon cake. So it would be up to her to defend their child. Again.

“Prince Aegon is being punished as we speak, princess. Surely you’ll not hold a grudge against him forever?”

It had happened three days past. Viserys had bid his eldest son sit, as the king worked on his miniature of Old Valyria. The child had soon grown bored, and the king had been concentrating intensely upon his craft, or so Eddard the stonemason had told her.

Whatever had happened, Viserys had paused when he heard the sound of crashing glass. Prince Aegon, curious as all children of six were, had accidentally broken a Myrish lens. Glass from Myr was worth its weight in spice, and this glass had been a gift to Queen Aemma from the Free Cities, upon her coronation, and a keepsake of her husbands upon her death.

By the time Alicent had arrived, Viserys’s face had been puce with anger, and Aegon bore a red mark on his cheek where he'd been slapped. Their son's fingers had been bleeding from the broken glass, but the king hadn't noticed, so full of rage was he. Aemma Arryn, Alicent realised with sadness, would be appalled.

“‘Punished’?” Rhaenyra's brows furrowed. “He’s been locked in the nursery. That’s hardly sufficient.”

Alicent could hear the courtiers whispering, likely remarking on yet another incident of familial disharmony within the royal House. “Aegon has already apologised for his mistake, step-daughter. You can always purchase another Myrish lens. Such things are replaceable.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“You would know all about replacements, since you are one,” Rhaenyra sneered. The princess had been wroth for a long time now, ever since her uncle had eloped with Lady Laena. “I don’t know what we’ve done to deserve my half-brother. That boy gives us only grief.”

And you’ve given your husband horns, Alicent thought but did not say.

“You would do better to engage in self-contemplation, Rhaenyra,” Alicent said, loudly enough for half the hall to hear. “Your son’s features are rather unique, for a Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to reply, features contorting with fury, but her father spoke first.

“Alicent, enough,” Viserys hissed. “Do not make a spectacle of yourself, woman.”

Worry not, husband, your daughter makes enough of a spectacle for us both.

She would’ve said it too, but little Aemond was looking at her, eyes wide with confusion, so Alicent swallowed her reply, ignoring Rhaenyra’s mocking smile and Viserys expression of quiet relief.

Some Targaryen’s, Alicent had come to find, were cowards.

The throne room was uncomfortably crowded. Viserys had shown himself for once, having gathered the strength to leave his sickbed and sit his iron chair. Rhaenyra stood to his right, conversing with him in hushed tones. Alicent had dressed lavishly for their guests, in a gown of dark green satin, its sleeves and bodice slashed with pure cloth-of-silver, that shimmered in the light. She sat on a throne of gilded wood, watching the milling courtiers below.

The queen had been pleasantly surprised when Viserys had told her of the invitation he’d extended to her kin. It’d been nearly a half a decade since Alicent had had cause to meet with her uncle, Lord Hobert. The Lord of Oldtown had brought his son with him. The last time she’d seen Ormund, he’d been a gangly boy of fifteen. He’d used to humour Alicent and her brother’s, back when they were still children residing in the Hightower, playing come-into-my-castle with them, and other games besides.

Now Ormund was a man-grown, with a wife and children of his own and there was a gulf between them, wrought open by separation and the passing of years. He and his father bent the knee to them, eyes on the floor.

“Your Grace’s, Princess,” Hobert said, “it is a pleasure to visit with you. We were flattered by your invitation, my king. To what do we owe the honour?”

A dreadful prescience nagged at Alicent, one she did her best to ignore. She’d asked her husband the very same question, and he’d dismissed her, murmuring something about the importance of reaffirming bonds between family. Raven’s sent to her father in Oldtown had been equally ineffective. Ser Otto Hightower had served two kings —and perhaps a third in the future, if all went well—and his time at court had taught him well the importance of silence. He had not been forthcoming about his plans, simply commanding her to fulfil her duties as she always had. Yet Alicent sensed that it was Otto who’d driven Viserys to his chosen course. Why else would the king have invited the Hightowers to the Red Keep?

“Lord Hobert, you and yours have ever been leal to the Crown,” her husband intoned, “since the Conqueror’s day. Was it not the Hightowers of Oldtown who were the first to acknowledge our ancestor’s right to rule? Such good service deserves a reward.”

The queen frowned. Lord Hobert and her cousin were still kneeling — they’d not been summoned all this way for a history lesson. As the king’s illness had progressed, his mind had begun to wander. Alicent was seized with the sudden fear that Viserys wasn’t quite lucid. She stared at him intently. Her husband wore his robes of state, blackest silk shot through with gold; the crown of the Old King girded his brow, its seven gemstones gleaming. For all her worries, though, Viserys’s eyes were sharp. Alicent breathed a sigh of relief…then felt her breath stop as the king continued.

“As such, we have decided to bestow upon you the fosterage of our youngest son, Prince Daeron. He shall leave the Red Keep with your party within the fortnight.”

Alicent gaped. She’d not been told of this. No one had mentioned Daeron being fostered. She thought of her little boy, six years old and cheerful. To be sent away from all he knew at such a tender age—it was too much, even for the likes of Viserys.

“Husband.” Alicent’s voice was edged with barely restrained panic. “Surely such a thing could wait a year, at least until our son mounts Tessarion.”

Her father’s secrecy now made a terrible sense. He hadn’t wanted Alicent to know about his intentions for his youngest grandson, even as he set his plans into motion. Otto Hightower may have been in Oldtown, but his influence over the king’s councilmen remained. For all that Viserys had banished him, he could not strip away the alliances his erstwhile Hand had formed at court.

She could see it in her mind’s eye. The letters the king's advisors must have received, the way they’d slowly convinced the king of the merits of Otto’s suggestion, subtly, with no mention of her father, and entirely out of Alicent’s sight. Of late, she’d been absent from meetings of the small council. Her Aemond had caught a fever, and whilst Alicent had been tending to him, the lords had no doubt plotted and planned and played her false.

And now they come for Daeron.

The king eyed his wife, considering Alicent’s suggestion, and she felt the beginnings of hope. All she wanted was a year. One year more for Alicent to hold her youngest son close, her baby, her well-behaved boy, who didn’t flinch away from her touch in fear, or look at her with eyes that were far away. Him and Aemond — they were her soul’s joy.

But then Rhaenyra spoke, her voice high and clear in the quiet of the room: “Her Grace is a mother - her heart cannot bear the thought of losing a child, even to kin. But you are the king, Father, and know your duty even when it is hard. I say to send the boy away. We cannot wait until he mounts Tessarion. How long might that take?”

The princess was smiling, smiling, smiling as she said this, lips turned up with triumph. Any chance to spite the queen, any chance to exercise some cruelty. His name is Daeron, she thought wildly, not ‘the boy’. Alicent felt the urge, deep in the marrow of her bones, to take Rhaenyra by the scalp, thrust her into the swords that made up the Iron Throne and watch as her face was cut to bloody ribbons.

Not so pretty then.

But Viserys was already nodding, even before the princess had finished her sentence. Her husband turned back to Lord Hobert, and Alicent bit her tongue as they began to discuss the necessary preparations. She would not be able to sway him now. Alicent’s eyes met Ormund’s.

He looked away.

Alicent felt somebody shaking her and could hear shouting: “My Queen, awake, awake! Something has happened to Prince Aemond.”

Alicent shifted under the weight of the bedclothes, understanding coming to her slowly through the groggy fog of disturbed sleep. Aemond: she bolted up, all at once, fumbling around as she disentangled herself from the furs. A brazier had been lit, and it cast lurid shadows all across her guest chambers, as Talya and her ladies dressed her. From there, it was a short walk to the main hall, Talya five paces behind.

Alicent’s heart was in her throat as she entered High Tide’s hall - she could hear its loud beating. BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, it went. She could see her husband, atop the Driftmark Throne, face in his hands and Rhaenyra’s bastards, bloody and wounded. The Kingsguard, all seven members, stood around them. Ser Criston’s knuckles were white against his sword’s pommel. Lord Corlys and his wife stood beside him, clutching their sobbing granddaughters, silent and grim. The princess was nowhere in sight.

Aegon and Helaena stood in front of the hearth, tears running down their cheeks. The queen wiped her clammy palms against her skirts and went to her children, soothing Helaena with gentle touches. For once, the girl allowed it.

Aegon slipped his hand into hers. BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM. Her eldest son was shaking, his purple eyes wide. Distantly, she heard the roaring of a dragon.

“Where is my son?”

The denizens of the torchlit hall murmured lowly to each other, but none would answer their queen. Alicent saw her father, standing at the very back and caught his eye. When Otto looked back, his gaze was full of grief.

Bile rose in her throat. “Where is Aemond?” Alicent asked, louder now, her skin pebbling with gooseflesh despite the heat of the room.

“Ser Criston, show her,” the king commanded. He still held his face in his hands.

BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM. The knight approached Alicent as if she were some mad beast. “My queen,” he said, and his voice was impossibly gentle, “calm yourself as best you can.”

“I want to see my Aemond.”

Something has happened. Alicent knew it from her father’s look, from Viserys’s hunched figure, from Ser Criston’s gentle tone. The knight gripped Alicent’s hand in his own and guided her to the back of the hall, where a padded bench lay. Someone lay slumped atop it, a white sheet over their head, someone with a child’s figure.

Alicent stared at that white sheet for a full minute. BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM. The queen’s blood was ice in her veins as she reached for it, pulled it back and saw—

A knife. Through Aemond’s eye. Its serrated edge shone dully, wet with his life’s blood. The world spun and blurred and then reshaped itself.

“Take out the knife,” Alicent whispered. “Take out the knife! Don’t leave him like that.”

Ser Criston reached over. The blade squelched as it was pulled out of the socket, and all Alicent could see was Aemond's expression, a rictus of pain. Alicent was certain that her son had died like that, alone and screaming.

Alone.

She fell to her knees, tears running down her face. She could taste them on her lips, fresh and salty. BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM.

“Wake up,” she said to her son’s cooling corpse. Alicent shouted at the top of her lungs, the hall echoing with the force of her shrieks. “Wake up! Wake up! You have to live, you’re only ten, you have to live and grow and take up the sword—you’ve always loved it, my special boy. Don’t you want to be a knight? You must marry and have children. You’re a prince, don’t you see, Aemond? Stop this at once, rouse yourself, you must needs live!”

She could hear whispering behind her, a voice saying, “She’s lost her wits,” and another murmuring about bastards and kinslaying and yet another, shushing them both. BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM.

Aemond didn’t heed her. The boy stared with sightless eyes at the ceiling, as if he weren’t ignoring his mother, as if he weren’t being disobedient to the one who’d birthed him in a bed of blood. Alicent came closer, still sobbing, and cradled his head in her arms, holding him close, her tears falling onto his face. She kissed her child’s head and felt the hard curvature of his skull against her lips. Blood was running down Aemond’s cheek from his bloody eye, pooling onto the bench below him, coating Alicent’s fingers.

My babe, my boy, why does he not look at me? The blood staining Alicent’s hands twisted itself into the shape of a grave, split into strange writhing creatures, slithered up her arms and face, blinding her until her vision was filled with red. BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM.

The queen heard the sound of a door swinging open over her heartbeat, and Rhaenyra’s tinkling laughter reached her ears. She turned to look. The princess had arrived with her uncle, both of them dishevelled and talking loudly. It took her but a moment to realise what had happened. She saw her bastards. Her smile died.

BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM.

And then: “It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them. The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question.” Viserys’s desperate face. “My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons.”

BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM.

Alicent glimpsed the bloody knife on the floor, the one that’d killed her son. She stood and slid it up her sleeve. Her world was red. The princess was still kneeling in front of her bastards, back turned. Alicent walked forward. The princess stood and turned towards her, but not quickly enough. Alicent stabbed the knife through her arm, felt it cut through gristle, felt it scrape against bone.

BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM, BOOM-DOOM.

Rhaenyra's blood splattered across the stone floor. That was sweet, but her screams were sweeter.

Lyman Beesbury’s body was still lying in the chamber of the small council, when the queen returned there at dawn to meet with Ser Criston. She’d dispatched him to Dragonstone with half a hundred men-at-arms, the night of the king’s death. Alicent had smelt Viserys rotting through the wooden door and acted accordingly.

Her sworn sword stood before her now, a bloody sack in his hand. “Did you find them all?” Alicent asked him, almost trembling with anticipation.

“Most of them, my queen.” The knight hesitated, his expression nervous. “For all we took them unawares, Prince Daemon managed to escape with his sons.” Ser Criston’s hands were crusted with viscera: acting as the queen’s headsman was a bloody job.

“Princess Rhaenys? The girls?”

“I had to kill the princess. She wouldn’t stop fighting, you see.” His expression was almost distressed. “But the girls have been taken captive.”

Ser Criston upended his sack. Five heads rolled out, bouncing onto the floor and stinking of decay. For Aemond. Alicent gloried in the sight.

"Good," Alicent looked into Criston's beautiful eyes and cupped his cheek. The knight leaned into her touch. "You've done well, Criston."

Much later, after all was said and done, the Lord Confessor found the Dowager Queen alone in her chambers. She held two skulls on her lap, one of them large, the other small. Larys stood shadowed in the entrance, out of sight and listening.

“Your grandsire lies dead, little bastard, no more to bolster your crimes. Here’s his crown. Go on, have a look.” The queen hefted the small skull in front of her face. Its empty sockets had a clear view of the jewelled crown girding her brow. “And you, the beloved daughter, how did you die? In bed, at play, or dining, with the laughter of your loathsome get ringing in your ears? It matters not. I ask you, what is Viserys's favour worth now? No doubt your soul burns in some fiery pit, under heavenly purview.” With sudden violence, Alicent threw the skull down. It cracked. “Aemond, be well content. You are avenged, as has ever been mine intent.”

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chaoticbardlady99 · 9 months ago

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I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Dadstarion x F! Reader) Part Five, MDNI 18+

Synopsis: Astarion takes off after a frustrating day with Eowyn, leaving both of you feeling abandoned. Astarion makes things right. Poor Eowyn has a tummy ache and I continue to be terrible at writing synopses.

Content Warning: Abandonment wounds, dead dove, fainting, SMUT, PIV, bathtub smut, also it's long.

Part 4 : Part 6 : Master List

“It’s going to be okay,” you sing through your tears, Eowyn continues to wail, “it’s going to be okay- we have each otherrrr and mommy loves youuuuu and we will be-“

You choke on your own lie.

It’s been hours- four and a half, in fact- since Astarion blew up and stormed out. Eowyn hadn’t stopped crying- her little tummy hurts, but she is also hungry so the confusion hasn’t been helping and neither has the insane amount of spit up.

She knows her dad has left, you know her dad has left, and you are both coming to terms that it’s just you two now. Your head is throbbing and your vision is spotted- you feel like you could collapse at any given moment.

Astarion had probably changed his shirt for the sixth time and he was going to change it a seventh when you suggested he wait until she is asleep so that he won’t have to do so much laundry. It had been an innocent suggestion- you were going to clean his laundry anyway because you know the whole spit up thing was making his skin crawl.

For whatever reason, that had set him off.

“How dare you tell me what to do when your devil child refuses to give me even five seconds to think!” He seethed, fangs bared like when he killed Cazador and you were frozen- Eowyn also stopped crying and whimpered, “I can’t take this anymore! I can’t fucking do this!”

You are still shaking in the aftermath of that and you refuse to go up to your room. You aren’t ready to see all of his things gone. He can get in through the window and that’s how he left last time.

Last time. You sob. I am such a moron. Why did I ever think he would actually stay?

Eowyn spits up more and more- you are trying to help her feel better and hope Shadowheart comes back today from her trip. You would take her to a healer but you can’t leave the house looking like this and with no one to watch Eowyn…

You had been so prepared to be a single mother before Astarion came back. You had had it all down to a T- you had a plan in place. Shadowheart was going to stay with you and help you until you got into your rhythm. Isobel and Dame Aylin were going to be here. It had all been so well planned, but you told everyone it would be okay! You had Astarion! You were going to do this parenting thing together!

The door opens and Shadowheart comes walking in- all smiles with bags in hand- but is immediately over there in a second. She uses lesser restoration on Eowyn and calm- why didn’t you think to use calm? Her crying ceases and she relaxes in Shadowheart’s arms falling asleep.

You laugh- you laugh so hard you become hysterical. Shadowheart tries to help you sit on the couch, but you are frozen in place.

You think you may have truly, truly lost it this time.

You now have to tell her that she was right and letting Astarion back was trouble- the only person in the entire world who can seem to calm your child down because you are too busy being a sniffling mess.

You are a failure of a mother, Tav. How dare you break Eowyn’s heart by allowing her to meet him at all.

The laughter doesn’t cease- you feel basically crazy. The last thing you remember is hearing someone rush up the stairs before falling to the ground.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion has never moved faster and yet he still only barely grabbed you before you hit the ground.

He had finally felt like he blew off more than enough steam to be able to come back and apologize a hundred thousand times over for his reaction.

And for his genetics because he is certain that’s where Eowyn got her pipes from.

He had felt himself snap and he knew it was because he was starving. It wasn’t just that Eowyn was crying and sick, he felt helpless, but it made him feel good that she felt much better laying against him when her temperature was all over the place.

You had looked exhausted and Astarion was once again reminded that he can’t be left alone with Eowyn just yet. He felt like an utter failure.

Astarion destroyed an entire bandit camp and then another and then another until he was-

Well fed

Entirely decompressed

Confident enough in his capabilities to go back and be the parent you know he is capable of being.

He went to the healer’s shop to get something to soothe Eowyn’s tummy, but the healer was out of herbs. She told him where to find more and he even brought back extra so that the shop had it in stock. She paid him and tried to flirt with him, but he made it abundantly clear that the vomit on his shirt was from his child that he adores along with his absolutely lovely partner that carried her.

That little side quest turned into going to the local market to get all your favorite foods, new bath soaps, a very comfortable pair of pajamas he thinks you would look adorable in, and a ring. Astarion isn’t sure when he will pop the question, but he wants to and he saw the perfect ring- how could he not buy it?

He even bought new soap that is your favorite scent. Astarion knows you intend on washing his clothing after this affair, but once he gets Eowyn and you down for a nap (you worry so much about her sleeping with her tummy like this), he would wash all of the clothes soiled in the span of mere minutes- yours, his, and Eowyn’s.

He knew something was wrong when he walked up to the house and the door was wide open with Shadowheart’s things lazily left out on the patio. Astarion had felt paralyzed- did he leave and something truly bad happened? Did that hag come back?

Your hysterical laughing did not help- he knows that laugh. You laughed like that when Orin kidnapped Lae’zel and you proceeded to promptly pass out. It’s your, “I have finally fucking lost it” laugh and it means you probably have the migraine of the century.

With Shadowheart’s help, they got both you and Eowyn upstairs and in bed. Eowyn was softly snoring in her crib, looking peaceful for the first time in 72 hours. You, on the other hand, look anything but peaceful.

Your face is tear stained, your eyes are puffy, and your skin is ever so slightly paler than it should be. You are shaking and Shadowheart promptly informed him that you have a fever, but she has everything to help you.

The two silently work together to grind up the herbs and other medicinal items. Astarion knows she wants to ask what happened and honestly? He has no idea.

Okay, well he does, but he didn’t realize how “end of the world” like it would be for you both. Astarion would never-

Oh.

He stops suddenly and blinks away tears he didn’t realize he had.

How had Astarion not thought about that? You used to be able to cope if he blew up and stormed off- worried that Cazador or your other foes would hurt him- but the last time he blew up on you, he vanished.

He left without leaving a trace of himself behind and then you didn’t see him for months. Eowyn’s first experience with him is that he threatened you and then abandoned not only you, but her as well.

Astarion’s memory of the day’s earlier events makes him put his head in his hands.

He remembers how terrified you both looked when he snapped and Eowyn’s whimper echoes through his head.

Astarion couldn’t figure out why you hadn’t gone into the bedroom and tried to nap- it had been both of your plans before he so horribly ran off. Now he realizes that you were trying to avoid seeing his absence- you really were not expecting him to come back ever again.

“Astarion?”

He bursts into tears when Shadowheart says his name with a counting house worth of worry. He doesn’t deserve it- he is a monster.

“I got so overwhelmed,” he chokes out, “I was so hungry and I wasn’t thinking- I just… I just left. I said mean, terrible things and I scared them both.

“I’m the reason she passed out. She thought I was never coming back.”

Astarion hears Shadowheart get up and he really is expecting to be stabbed through or something, but instead, she puts down two wine chalices and opens a bottle. She pours them both extremely large glasses before sitting down to get back to work.

“I can’t imagine this is easy for you,” she begins slowly, “you went from only having to worry about yourself to yourself and Tav and now Eowyn.

“I have noticed how hungry you are- I brought back some blood from the local butcher on my way home for you. I appreciate your refusal to drink from Tav until she is back to her full strength and I can really see the effort you are putting in. Not only with Eowyn, but in your relationship with Tav too.

“She may not be able to handle you leaving in a storm without experiencing a panic attack for a while,” Shadowheart says glumly, “but I think if you communicate your needs that she will listen and come up with a solution that works for everyone. She isn’t Cazador, Astarion. She loves you and she worries and cares for you as much as you do her. If you needed to go hunting, she probably would have, and I mean this quite literally, kicked you out of the house until you felt better. Your needs are important to her- she isn’t going to deny you or torture you for having them.

“Eowyn, on the other hand,” Shadowheart snorts, “well, I don’t think she cares what any of us want. She knows she’s too cute for that nonsense.”

Astarion and Shadowheart continue crushing the herbs in silence and he takes a long drink from the wine. He contemplates everything she said and he hates how transparent he must be for her to see why he was struggling to speak up about how hungry he was. It’s not your fault for not noticin- you were barely making time for your own needs.

There is a compromise somewhere. There has to be.

“Thank you.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your bones hurt and you are freezing and hot at the same time. Everything hurts and the smell of Astarion’s cologne makes you want to cry.

You must be hallucinating because you are certain his voice is in the doorway talking to Shadowheart.

Oh how I am going to miss you, my Love. You think glumly. Thank you for the time we had together.

Your broken heart has manifested into physical illness and you wonder if you are even capable of taking care of Eowyn like this. You can hardly take care of yourself.

It also makes you wonder if you should have taken Jaheira’s advice in the first place and put her up for adoption. However, you quickly nix that thought- you couldn’t imagine a life without your sweet little girl and you will be brave for her. You have to be- there is no other choice.

A cool hand against your temple causes a sigh of relief to leave your cracked and dried lips. You cried so much and completely neglected to rehydrate.

You try to get up and prepare yourself to face Shadowheart and your shame.

But it isn’t Shadowheart- it’s Astarion with a look of concern on his face and he helps you sit up.

“Here, my Love,” he says as he supports your shaking hand as you drink the water, “I bought food as well- all of your favorites so when you are feeling up to eating, let me know.”

You nod and stare at him. You can’t tell if he is a mirage or if this is really him. Everything looks so hazy.

“Are you really here?”

You wince at how cracked and rough your voice sounds. Your tone is pathetic and melancholy.

Sadness consumes Astarion’s face and he wipes away the tears from your cheeks.

“Yes, my love,” he assures you, “I am here and I am not going anywhere.”

You nod your head, emotional and tearful.

He climbs into bed behind you and pulls you to his chest- leaving a trail of soft kisses up your neck and behind your ear. You hum happily and your chest glows.

He came back, you think, he came back and he never left. Never even intended on leaving again.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispers, neither one of you wishing to wake Eowyn.

You aren’t sure if you should share your thoughts. You don’t want him to think you don’t trust him or make him upset and have him actually leave.

“My love,” he begins, “I am sorry I scared you and Eowyn.”

“You didn-“

“Tav,” he says softly, but firmly, “don’t lie. I know I scared you and I know I scared her. I am not fragile, neither is our love, and I am sorry.”

You begin to cry again- your whole body is racked with them. Maybe you hadn’t gotten over him leaving yet. You really thought you had worked past it, but it’s like you are experiencing all the pain from when he first left and told you he wanted you to die screaming. It’s like a massive hole has been punched into your chest.

You feel him hold you tighter to him and you only cry harder, the pain from the past and the day has taken it’s toll on you. He whispers apologies into your ear and leaves gentle, sweet kisses.

“I promise- I am never going to leave you like that again,” his own voice cracks with unshed tears, “I will never abandon you again.”

You shake your head, trying so hard to not make him feel like he has to stay.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” your voice comes out like a hopeless whine, “I don’t want you to feel trap-“

He interrupts you with a deep, long kiss. You nuzzle your nose against his and the sigh of happiness that leaves his mouth warms your aching heart.

“I want you to throw both of those thoughts away,” he wipes away your tears, “I am exactly where I want to be and that will not change. I love you and I love Eowyn- I love our family and our life together.

“You have given me a gift, a wonderful, beautiful gift,” he smiles at you, “thank you- I won’t forget it nor will she ever let me.”

You both lay there in each other’s embrace- Astarion continues to assure you that Eowyn is okay and you finally agree to take a bath together before taking a nap. You both still smell like baby spit up and some intimacy is needed.

Astarion basically already has the bath drawn by the time you get to the bathroom. He insists on washing your hair and your body before you wash him.

Astarion rubs your stressed muscles and the tightness in your shoulders away with his touch. You feel like you could fall asleep and know what peace feels like for once.

“Does this feel good, my Love?”

You hum happily, his fingers now massaging your scalp and making sure every inch is covered in soap and the tight dehydration headache seems to go away as he continues his ministrations. You feel bad that you aren’t helping him, but you wouldn’t even know where to begin and your body is so tired.

Astarion begins to trail sweet kisses up your neck- hoping to continue lulling you to sleep and he knows when you are already sleepy that kisses like this help to relax you. You could melt into him- truly.

“You are still a bit feverish,” he nuzzles his face into your neck, “how do you feel?”

You hum lazily, “achey, tired, but happy. I am very happy.”

You feel him smile against your skin and he regales you with his hunt from the day, bragging about the amount of bandits he was capable of taking down on his own. You add dramatic gasps and cheers- he gripes that you aren’t taking him seriously (he has taken to calling you his silly goose lately so who isn’t taking who seriously?), but you also can tell he adores it.

At some point, you do eventually wash him. You are slow and a bit lazy, but you focus on cleaning his blood stained hair, making sure there isn’t any left. He is worried about Eowyn seeing and being scared. He said he needs to apologize to her as well and he must look presentable.

You haven’t noticed him staring up at you, admiring your entire body against his and your face as you concentrate.

“I love you,” he whispers, “I love you so much.”

You look down at him with surprise and smile brightly.

“I love you so much!” You place a chaste kiss on his lips before returning to your work. “And I am very jealous of how silky your hair is.”

“You should be- my hair is the best, after all.”

“I know- I am grateful that Eowyn has your hair and not mine.”

Astarion seems to chuckle to himself, his restless hands begin tracing shapes and running up and down your body. It doesn’t feel sexual in nature, more like he is committing you to memory.

“200 years,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“I spent 200 years of suffering under Cazador,” he says softly, “I was getting ready to give up. I was really considering walking out into the sun and freeing myself of him forever.

“Then I am bringing someone to him and we are kidnapped by those tentacle-eyed freaks. I thought my life was truly over and I would never truly know what it feels like to be happy. Safe.

“I hate to give any meaning to my suffering because there was not, but I am grateful that after 200 years of pure shit- I get to be here with you. In our home- safe, in love, a father, and so incredibly happy. I can scarcely believe it some days.

“My time with you- now and every second moving forward is and has been the counterweight to it all. You are the counterweight to it all, my Love.”

You are stunned- a few stray tears falling down your face and your smile feels tooth rotting sweet. It makes you feel good to know that you have brought so much happiness to his life. At one point you thought you had truly destroyed his life after he left you there in Cazador’s Dungeon.

You are grateful that he doesn’t regret Ascending. You don’t know what you would do if he did.

“Marry me?” He whispers, his voice shaking and nervous.

You think you may have heard him incorrectly. Did he just… propose?

“W-what?”

“Marry me, please,” he begs, you think for a moment you see a flash of worry in his eyes like you may reject him, “I will do whatever I need to to show you I am serious about you, about us, and our family if that is what you are concerned about I-

“Yes!” After your brain digests everything he said and you accidentally interrupt him in your excitement, “yes one hundred times over!”

You feel sparked to life- all the tiredness in your bones becomes less noticeable and he pulls your face to his, kissing you deeply with no intentions of stopping any time soon.

Your hands explore each other as if you are both touching each other for the first time. It’s slow and wonderful- you have been with each other in this sense before, slow and soft sex, but this feels entirely different.

His thumb teasingly rolls your clit while he slides a finger inside of you- a wanton moan escapes your lips and your eyelashes flutter as he prepares you to take him. His other hand is gripping your hair to keep your lips on his- the punishing pace he keeps as he scissors his fingers inside you and stimulates your g-spot. His thumb never stops it’s relentlessly teasing and you almost feel embarrassed by how eagerly you pant against his mouth with pleasure.

“You are being so wonderful for me, my Sweet,” he nips your lower lip, “I want to be inside you- do you feel ready for that?”

You nod eagerly- you have been healthy and cleared for sex for a couple weeks now, but he had been far, far too afraid which you respect immensely. You have been dreaming about connecting with him on this level again though- it’s intimate and important.

Love and loyalty- a bond that cannot be broken and your bodies fit together like a puzzle piece.

Astarion slowly thrusts up into you and you meet his hips half way down. You moan and whine against each other’s lips. He pinches your sensitive nipples and he smiles into your mouth when you gasp- breaking the intense make out session between you. You can feel your breast milk drip down his fingers and he makes you watch him lick his fingers clean.

He peers up at you as if asking permission to drink and your lashes flutter as you consider what he is asking.

You nod shyly and his smile is wide, his eyes almost hungry.

The cold, wet feeling of his tongue against your sensitive nipple and a single, hard thrust into you makes a cry of pleasure fall from your lip. Astarion begins to drink from your breast- tongue, teeth, and lips- and you clutch the back of the bathtub as he indulges.

Strings of curse words and praise leave your mouth as he continues- eventually moving onto the other and you watch in awe as his looks up at you. Astarion’s pupils are blown with lust and desire- his eyes are drunk and exhilarated from your blood and breast milk.

His hands settle on your hips and begins pulling your thrusts to meet his harder. You feel dizzy and lightheaded- blood and breastmilk drips from you and into the water below. Astarion releases your nipple and your head falls into the crook of his neck. You muffle your moans by singing them into his shoulder. One of your hands finds purchase in his hair and the other explores his torso and neck.

“Gods you are perfect,” he growls against your lips, “in every single way- you are perfect.”

He ruts into your sex relentlessly and the gentle kisses between you become sloppy and needy. You feel your orgasm wash over your body in a wave of pleasure and you giggle happily when he fills you with his seed.

The sloppy kisses are still lazy and needy, but in a far gentler way. Both of your hands are entangled in the other’s hair and never ever want this to end.

Unfortunately, crying from Eowyn interrupts your moment alone before you can even think about further aftercare protocol.

Astarion groans, putting his head back and pouting.

You laugh, readying yourself to get out of the tub, “our child would be a total cock block.”

“Yes, well,” he says, pulling you back into the water, “she will not be a ‘relaxation’ block either, my Dear,” he presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “you continue to enjoy yourself and I will take care of Eowyn.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel alone.”

“How could I?” He says with a large smile, “my fiancé is just in the other room and our daughter is very good company.”

Fiancé.

You are smiling ear to ear, even before Astarion gets out of the bath and gets dressed. You can’t help but admire how beautiful he is as he gets out and he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Like what you see, my Darling?”

“Oh, I certainly do,” You hum in approval, “and I just love you for who you are in general.”

He is leaning over and pressing a kiss to your forehead after he slides on his shirt and his pants.

“It’s truly, disgustingly, wonderful how kind you are to me,” he says before pulling away, “it makes me want to be kind back.”

“Oh you are very kind, my Love,” Eowyn throws some kind of toy against her crib in frustration and you giggle, “it sounds like you are being summoned.”

You sink back into your bath and listen as Astarion’s muffled voice earns a squeal of happiness from Eowyn. You can hear him singing some song he made up on the spot- all filled with compliments for her- and your smile only grows wider.

Eowyn is going to have the healthiest self-esteem anyone has ever seen in their lives. Astarion would probably destroy the entire world if someone so much as looked at Eowyn wrong.

It warms your heart to know that, in spite of all the sadness those five months apart brought you, that it all ended up working out for the best.

*****************************************************************

“I am sorry I scared you, my adorable little menace,” he says softly, Eowyn’s crying had stopped abruptly upon seeing him and she started to shake before spitting up on herself.

It broke Astarion to see how afraid she was- she was even too scared to cry and be upset about the spit up dribbling down her face. He picks her up, aware of how tense she is before wiping her face gently. Eowyn’s golden eyes follow his every movement and she slowly relaxes as she realizes he isn’t upset anymore.

“I will never ever abandon you, my sweet little girl,” he promises, “I am so sorry- I love you so much and I am sorry I scared you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Eowyn probably doesn’t know what he is saying word for word, but she seems to understand enough and she gives him a gummy, drooly grin with a happy, high pitched cry. It’s probably one of Astarion’s favorite sounds and he loves her smile- adores it even.

“Eowynnnn with her beautifulll eyes and her wonderfulll smileeee,” he sings lazily, “you are the greatest thingggg in this worlddddddd and so issss your motherrrrrr.”

He keeps singing his weird song- he doesn’t know when he became an idle singer, but Eowyn enjoys it very much and in turn, he has come to enjoy it.

Astarion grabs a fresh pair of clothes for Eowyn and goes to the kitchen. He fills the sink with water and sets up the weird contraption that Shadowheart gave them to put in the sink. It’s supposed to keep her from being submerged under the water, but Astarion is still skeptical.

He continues to rock her until the water is ready and it seems like he submerged the lower half of the tub seat just enough for her. Eowyn goes into it happily- not even blinking when she is in the water. You have bathed her a few times already and Eowyn really likes her baths. Today, it seems to also help with soothing her tummy.

Astarion washes every single one of her curls with care and precision- gently untangling any knots and providing lots of praise when one is particularly difficult to untangle and he has to be a bit more aggressive than he would like. She is a champion through the whole thing, lazily looking up at him as she sucks on her binkie.

Shadowheart had given him a mint elixir to help soothe her upset tummy and it seems to have worked very well- there is no more odd stomach grumbling from her and she seems relaxed. He will definitely be keeping this on hand for the future.

She is basically asleep again when he begins to rub grape seed oil into her skin so that it stays moisturized and puts her in, what he argues are, her favorite pair of pajamas (his reasoning is definitely NOT because he bought them…).

Astarion thinks about bringing her upstairs and putting her to sleep in the crib before taking a nap himself, but he isn’t ready to part with her. He hurt her feelings and he wants to rectify this- for his own sad feelings and hers.

You are already asleep in your shared bed when he gets upstairs and Astarion gently lays down on his back, putting Eowyn on his chest and she falls asleep with her ear pressed where his heartbeat should be. You naturally curl up next to him too and Astarion has never felt more full of happiness in his entire life.

At one point, laying still and not being able to move would have been torture. Now? Astarion lets his mind wander into bliss as he listens to both of your heartbeats and soft snores.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion romance #astarion x you #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #dadstarion #astarion ancunin

83 notes · View notes

gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 3 months ago

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Requesting Aid 2

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @felinisnoctis @bispecsual @whorety-k @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams

Tagged: @jaghatai-khock

Author's note: Thank you to @kit-williams for letting me borrow Anrir. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric & Ash'val. Thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for collaboration on writing this behemoth of an arc... and it's only still at the start and letting me borrow Khopesh. Lol.

Kerubiel had given so much, pushed himself in Every aspect of his training. Aspirant to Neophyte to Scout, watching his lessers die off one by one. Asserting (comforting) himself that He was Better. That He would survive (Praying himself near sleepless that he would survive).

That their passing was a Mercy to them because they wouldn't survive what he could- Because he would be the Best. He exceeded expectations, and when he didn't he took his beatings, scraped himself up, and kept fighting! Showed just as much promise in Every Mission and Every Training. Pushing himself to the limit of his enhanced body, Every! Single! Day! (Because anything less would mean he'd not be worth keeping.)

And Yet!

...

“Why wasn't I enough…?” Kerubiel asks, muffling his sobbing into Olly's shoulder.

“...” Olly doesn't know how to respond. “I don't know.” He eventually says, but he knows he could say something better, and is aggravated with himself that he can't think of it.

“You were always enough.”

Both Primaris whip their heads back to see the old Dragon Approaching once again. Soon, Ash'val stands before them.

“You…you heard?” Kerubiel asks, feeling an embarrassed blush come over him.

The Salamander nods. “Salamanders may not Prefer Gothic but most of us can speak it.” He explains. “Also my Gothic may be pre-heresy but the language really hasn't changed that much in your time it seems.”

Olly responds with a slight embarrassed “Ah…alright then.”

“But back to the point. You two were Always enough.” Ash'val insists.

The Scouts look away, clearly not believing him, so the old Dragon decides to try a different angle.

“Have you heard the tale of when our Gene father Vulcan, long may he Live, rejoined our Legion?”

“...” “I know Vulcan was described to us as one of the Holy Primarchs of the Imperium.” Olly replies while Keru stays silent. “But wait…are you saying, you've actually Met a Primarch!? In person!?” The Ultramarine gasps.

Ash'val nods. “In the obsidian flesh, here, sit with me and I will tell you.”

Both Primaris do as the old dragon says and he begins the tale. “We Salamanders had been devastated by a long conflict. Our numbers were depleted, our casualties counted in the thousands. What ships we could spare were sent with civilians and what supplies came back never seemed to be enough. We were at our end, but then…he came.” Ash'val's recollection takes on a legendary sort of awe. “He, and the forces he handpicked and armed, cut down our Xenos foe. The enemy we faced for months was burnt to ash in what felt like hours. And at the end, when the battlefield was finally quiet, we of the old Guard faced what we were certain was our replacement.”

“You feared that you would be…discarded?” Olly asks. Kerubiel remains silent, he…he had never heard such insecurities from a First Born.

Ash'val nodded. “What more could be expected? We held our own, but clearly our betters outmatched us in every way. So…we bowed. To honor our father, and the brothers who would take our place at his side…but do you know what he did?”

The Primaris shook their heads.

“He demanded we get up, that we stand proud because we had…given so much and saved so many…that We should not bow. Then He…he bowed to Us.”

Olly almost felt a gasp escape him. A Primarch! Bowing low to mere Space Marines!? If his own Gene Father was to bow to him he'd…he'd…

Well he doesn't know what he'd do but the very idea makes him feel like he's about to pass out.

“And then he Took us in his arms and said we would ALL be his sons! LIKE THIS!” Ash'val says joyfully, and surprises the two Primaris by swooping them into a tight hug!

“Woah!” “Hey now!”

Salamander strength is really no joke considering Ash'val successfully lifts Both of them in armor, even if only for a moment. He continues once he places them both down.

“And ever since then, we Salamanders have Always accepted our new recruits with open arms. Terran, First Born, Transfers from other Legions, and the Primaris.” Ash'val explains. “Which is what I wish happened for you, and your brothers…”

Kerubiel bites his lip, “It…wasn't your fault.” He eventually says.

“Perhaps,” Ash'val responds. “But clearly, more care will need to be taken with integrating Primaris that arrive here. They should feel welcomed, and that whatever abuse they faced in their pasts will not be tolerated by the Alliance, least of all in a territory under My protection. ”

Kerubiel and Olly both feel…stunned. But Ash'val simply claps them both on the shoulders. “The dragon rises on a New Day! Now, let's continue as we were! 50 laps! I'll give you a ten second head start. You both better keep up with this old drake or you'll both be in for barracks cleaning duty!”

“Yes sir!” “Sir yes sir!” Kerubiel pulls out his hydration ration and chugs it properly before getting a move on with Olly.

Ash'val watches the boys fondly, but his expression does shift as he glances back down at his vox.

‘Dark Angel Apothecary retained at Clinic. Possible involvement with attempted kidnapping of the Primaris known as Kerubiel. Administering truth drugs as soon as Anesthesia reaches appropriate level.’

Ash’val is glad that he’s able to watch over a pair of the Primaris Marines- especially one of the ones that had been almost-kidnapped. Would be thieves were going to be punished. If the younger cousins do not want to be taken, then they won’t be.

Ash'val grimaces, and seems he will need to remind the other Astarte leaders of this world what happens when you intrude upon a Dragon's nest.

“10 seconds up! You'll be left in the dust if you don't pick up the pace, old man!” Kerubiel shouts, now much more like himself.

Ash'val's grimace melts instantly into a challenging grin. “OH-HO-HO! I'll make you eat those words scout!” He replies, doing as promised and picking up a run after his charges.

Kerubiel had a fierce, but a small smile on his face as he continued to run- making sure to pace himself. He and Olly were running, keeping ahead of Ash’val- for now at least. Primaris Marines are faster than most First Borns.

The more he learns about the boy’s story the more he understands why they are reluctant to reach out to their older brothers- and superior officers. The reluctance to put themselves into the hands of those who, in their time and era have proven themselves unworthy of their trust and obedience.

Still the more Ash’val learns of M42, one thought keeps going through his head is this ‘What the fuck? Why? What is wrong with M42?’

…

“And then the boys came back to reality, and we called the others to tell them.” Lullaby explains to Nanael and Atlas as they show the new arrivals the full image that Claude and Jophiel's vision had produced.

“...” Neither of the new Primaris speak for a moment, but eventually Nanael produces one…

“I see…” That doesn't have any curses or promises of violence he Desperately wants to include. Nanael's expression is serious, and even slightly disgusted. His wings are reminiscent of Jophiel's when he'd first seen Lullaby's … interesting looking warp presence.

“But…What does it mean?!” Lullaby asks plaintively, “Why are they Doing this, Why do they Want to do this?! He's done nothing to them!” They feel another painful spike in their emotions and their psychery, and force it back down so it doesn't cause trouble. They still feel tears pricking at their eyes, and they wipe them away quickly. Not the time for weakness.

“It will be Alright.” Atlas assures Lullaby. “We've already received double confirmation that Kerubiel is safe with Ash'val and Olly.”

“And Khopesh will be back before you know it. Though he may have to check in with Anrir first.” Claude supplies, giving Lullaby a gentle side hug.

Lullaby nods. “I know. I just don't understand why…anything with this.” They say tiredly pinching the bridge of their nose. “And I Hate that.”

Nanael's expression takes on a different intense look. He and Cedric will have bastards to Hunt down soon enough. After all- harm given, is harm to be repaid. If those Dark Angels were planning on doing that to Kerubiel. Or whichever other Primaris they got a hold of, well, self defense, even a more active version of it so that those bastards don’t hurt him, or others is understandable.

And if a portion of the Dark Angels was planning on brutally killing one of his brothers for curiosity. Well then, he’ll make them drown in their own blood. They were going to kill someone he Cherishes. Or may even go after another Primaris, should it prove too difficult to get Keru.

Threats must be dealt with, and well, there was something in the codex about that, Ruthlessness is mercy upon one’s self. Yeah. Nanael knows he’s not fully of the Lamenter variant of the Son of Sanguinius, what else he is, he doesn’t know, Nor particularly care to find out.

“Jophie, Claude, if we point out the figures do you think you can recall more about their appearances?” Atlas posits.

Jophiel and Claude look to each other and to Atlas, “Perhaps? I’d like to try to see if I can get more clarity if you do have pictures.”

“It can’t hurt to try.” Claude says.

“I'll grab the paper and colored pencils!” Lullaby announces. “If we can do a Perp Sketch it could help Kerubiel and Khopesh avoid them. Especially if any of the Dark Angels had scars or other recognizable features.” They say, voicing their understanding of what Atlas was getting at. “And it will help others find them so they can be stopped…”

“They can be stopped…right?” Lullaby asks hesitantly. “Like they intended to kidnap Kerubiel, and even if This crime technically didn't happen I mean…there's got to be Something we can do right?” Lullaby asks.

Atlas puts a comforting hand on the baselines shoulder. “We will make sure our friends do not come to harm. You have my word.”

Lullaby smiles. They know there's only so far a promise can go, but the words soothe them regardless.

Squeak Squeak! A chirping bat call ringtone sounds on Lullabys phone and they scramble it out in a flurry. “Khopesh?! Can you hear me sweetness?”

“I am well, dear one! I am just letting you know I have Arrived back at Stone Flame but I must report to Anrir first.” Khopesh explains.

Lullaby’s entire frame immediately uncoils most of its tension. “Thank Goodness. Also…”

“Yes my Love?”

“I'm really happy to hear your voice.”

“Awww!”

“But! Once you're back in my arms you're also going to Tell Me Exactly how you got involved with this Dark Angel debacle.” Lullaby says without leaving room for argument.

Nanael raises an eyebrow. “You mean he didn't brag to you about biting off a Dark Angel's arm when they tried to take Kerubiel?”

“HE DID WHAT?!”

“NANAEL DON'T TELL THEM THAT! HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT!?”

“Cedric heard it through Zariel I believe.” Nanael smirked. “It was for a good reason, but still I Think you should have informed your partner appropriately, brother cousin.”

“YOU DID WHAT!?”

“You are getting it the next time we train, little brother cousin!” Khopesh responds through the phone to the still smirking Nanael.

“You are coming straight back Here after you see Anrir.” Lullaby says strictly. “And you are going to help us construct the sketches of the Dark Angels so you and Kerubiel can avoid coming within 10 Miles of them until they're dealt with!”

“Yes Lullaby.” Khopesh sighs. “However, I Did have a good reason.”

“Yes, and I won't say it wasn't deserved.” Lullaby responds. “But next time just Punch the offending bastard's jaw off! DO NOT! Leave behind teeth marks, and crap tons of mouth DNA for them to find you with!”

“That!...That is fair.” Khopesh allows. “Even better, next time I will make it look like an accident. No witnesses.” He growls slyly.

Lullaby let's out an amused huff. “Again, not saying they wouldn't deserve it…especially if they’re involved with these bastards.” Lullaby responds, shooting a dirty look at the vision image.

Ziztz! The light above Lullaby's head flickers for a moment before they pull themselves back again. Atlas doesn't know about…that side of them, yet.

And if anymore Marines learn about their abilities they're fairly certain Anrir will turn Grey. His hair, they mean, his skin is already pretty much that color.

“I'm sorry our art day has been impacted in this way.” Jophiel apologizes to Lullaby and Claude as the group seats itself and prepares to make the perpetrator sketches.

Claude smiles. “I would rather this happen, then we go forward not knowing.”

Lullaby nods, and continues to pass the colored pencils, and paper so Jophiel and Claude can draw the images of their potential enemies. Nanael and Atlas continue to examine the vision image to determine how many unique figures are present, and thus how many Dark Angels they'll need to identify.

And thus how many graves will need to be dug.

…

“How is our Patient fairing?” Anrir asks his fellow Apothecaries.

“Vitals are stable, we'll be ready to on-board the Sodium Thiopental in about two minutes.” Hura replies.

“Dosage is ready when you are Apothecary Hura.” Cedric replies, having just drawn up the syringe.

“Excellent.” Hura replies before shifting his attention to his vox. “Apothecary Zariel, how are our Other guests fairing?”

‘Sour and surly, but being complacent otherwise… for now.’ Zariel responds. ‘Best to hurry this along if possible though. No telling when they'll decide to burst in and steal back their apothecary.”

“Understood, Cedric,” Hura announces. “Get the Sodium Thiopental on board.”

“Injecting now.” Cedric replies, double checking his syringe for air bubbles before pressing the mind altering drug into the Dark Angel's IV.

“Mrph-mm…” The Dark Angel twitches and begins to stir, but when his eyes open they are unfocused and glassy. Perfect.

Anrir leans over the table, “Can you hear me?” The Nightlord asks in flawless Gothic.

“Yes,” The Apothecary answers, with little to no emotion in his voice.

Anrir nods. “Good, first of all, Who are you?”

“I am Apothecary Brother Sargent Noctis Aramais, of the Dark Angels,” He replied flatly.

“What is your current mission?” Hura asks.

“To capture alive and as intact as possible a Primaris Space Marine,” Noctis Aramias replies.

“Why have you been sent to capture a Primaris Space Marine alive?” Cedric asks, one of his hands clenching into a fist before unclenching his hands.

“The orders have come from our Chapter Master, Sammath Togroth.”

The tension in the room shifts, and Cedric finds himself stunned for a moment. A Chapter Master had ordered this? That…that would complicate things.

If Anrir finds that information strange he does not show it. He simply continues the line of questioning. “Why does your Chapter Master want a Primaris?”

“The Chapter Master wants to see how strong and what the differences are between a Firstborn Space Marine and a Primaris Space Marine.”

“And how would this be determined?” Hura presses.

“First examine, open the body cavity and study the biological mechanics…”

“But that isn't all, is it?” Anrir prompts. “What about anesthesia?”

“No…no anesthesia. Only…hypno drugs, Chapter Master Togroth, wants…the Primaris awake. To measure stress response…Cut and take till there's...nothing left. Record findings till the Primaris expires…Collect and store usable organs as normal.” The Apothecary drones on.

Cedric feels his hearts pick up and a hot searing knife of rage cuts through him. He has to firmly hold himself back from latching his hands around the Fucking Bastards NECK and wringing it till his eyes pop out and it Snaps in his hands.

What Cedric doesn't realize is that Anrir is not far behind him, after all if this is what they planned to do to a random Primaris, who's to say what they'd do to Khopesh who had actually offended them. But the old Nightlord is much better at keeping his emotions unseen.

“What happened when you attempted to take the Primaris known as Kerubiel?” Anrir prompts.

“Scout disobeyed, was antsy but…almost had him…just had to…apply the hypno drug but then-” A small amount of panicked lucidity comes back to the Dark Angel, but not enough to wake him fully. “Wretched monster with a grinning scarred mouth…lept from the trees, Teeth sinking into my Arm. Snapped it off. Get him off! GET HIM OFF KILL HIM BROTHERS! RIP HIS ARMS OFF AND WATCH HIM BLEED OU-”

Shink! Anrir jabs another dose of knock out juice right into the near thrashing Dark Angels neck, not gently at all. But the Apothecary does go limp a moment later.

“I've heard Enough.” The elder Night lord surmises. “The amnesitics will ensure he does not recall Any of this. As for the Other issues at hand…”

“A band of rogues is one thing, but if his words are true, then we are dealing with a Far Worse conspiracy.” Hura adds.

“No Primaris is safe…” Cedric mumbles, his tone belying the sheer overwhelmed Panic he feels. “Even if I can keep those who are already Here informed…Any new arrivals could be- They could be taken. I can't…”

“Cedric?” Hura asks, seeing the emotional outburst coming.

“THRONE DAMMIT ALL!” Cedric snarls slamming and tossing the tray of used surgical items into a wall. (Thankfully avoiding the other medical equipment.)

“CEDRIC!?”

“I SWORE! I-SWORE! That I wouldn't-!” Cedric feels an angry sob threaten to break through. “That I wouldn't, Let them be hurt again!”

Both elders look on, they know a meltdown like this will need to run it's course.

“And NOW I learn…that a fucking CHAPTER MASTER, wants to cut open one of my brother's like a fucking science experiment!?” Cedric continues to rant. “WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO!?”

“Is this a bad time?”

Cedric whips his head around to the door opposite to the one that lead back to the waiting area with the other Fucking Dark Angels, only to see a familiar dark eyed face staring back…

Carrying a bunch of grocery bags.

“Khopesh, good to see you have returned.” Anrir greets his son, the relief just barely detectable in his tone.

“But do Not step any closer, this Is meant to be a sterile zone.” Hura adds quickly.

Khopesh snorts but does as he's told. “That's rich coming from you Death Guard. Anrir would you like me to drop these off at your quarters instead?” Khopesh lifts the bags filled with cleaning supplies, and Anrir nods.

“In a moment. First of all…” And with surprising smoothness and speed the old Nightlord wrenches the still Very drugged Apothecary up into a sitting position so Khopesh can see his face. “Do you recognize this one?”

“Ah…yep,” Khopesh affirms, smiling in that unsettling way. “His bones made the most Satisfying crunch when I tore into them. But wait… if He's here, does that mean…?”

Cedric nods. “The other Dark Angels are through the opposite door.” He says stiffly. “You Cannot under any circumstances let them see you! Do you understand!?”

“Cedric,” Hura calms the Black Templar from going into another spiral. “I suggest you leave the way you came, and avoid the more…public areas of the base until you receive word that our Guests have departed.”

Khopesh nods. “No worries! The only other place I need to go is the art rooms. Lullaby has asked me to come see the vision images, so that I may, ’go no closer than 10 miles to the Dark Angels until they are dealt with.’” Khopesh shakes his head a little, but he still smiles. “How am I meant to hunt them if I cannot get Close to them?”

Cedric chews his lip in response. Anrir and Hura don't respond either, and this makes Khopesh curious.

“Hey, I'm not hunt stealing if that's what you're worried about. Kerubiel did say if these were the brainwashing type of first borns, that he'd Like me to take care of them and make it …why are you all looking so dour?”

“Because a retinue of grabby Dark Angels are only the tip of the spear that is our problem, my son.” Anrir responds, approaching Khopesh. “The one wielding that spear is someone of higher importance, someone who will not be so easily snuffed out given his position.”

Khopesh leans in, listening intently.

“If the words of this…patient are accurate, it is the very Chapter Master of the Dark Angels, Sammath Togroth, that has given the order. An order which then spurred the events that caused You to become involved.” Anrir announces solemnly. “I'm afraid I will have to deny you your right to hunt in this case my son. We cannot move forward until we better understand how to approach our enemy.”

Khopesh's frame deflates, but surprisingly he doesn't whine or argue. “You truly believe that is all we can do? All I can do?”

Anrir smiles wryly. “I Know you are capable of much more. But I will not risk losing you to some bastard who thinks himself a man of science, when he is truly a mere sadist. And a wasteful one at that.”

Those in the room turn their attention back to the sleeping Dark Angel, each of their minds mulling over their options. That is until a ping comes over Hura's vox.

The Death Guard reads, and an interesting smile begins to pull at the corners of his mouth.

“What is it?” Cedric asks.

“It is Ash'val, he is on his way to drop off the Primaris with their fellows, and wants to know what We have found.” Hura hums, and casts a look at Anrir.

Anrir's wicked smile cracks across his face, and Khopesh copies his mentor. “You've got an idea, haven't you father?”

A chuckle from the old Nightlord almost makes Cedric's stomach twist in knots and ice run up his spine. “Send the recordings we have obtained to Ash'val. Spare no detail. And make sure he sees the vision image. We want to share Everything we have found.”

Cedric feels the realization dawn. “...You're planning on siccing Ash'val on Sammath? Will that work?”

Anrir hums. “Those who think they are above justice will always try to prove their delusion my boy. What Ash'val can do that we cannot, is ensure our prey Knows there will be consequences if his paws wander too close to the Dragon's den.”

“In other words,” Khopesh supplies, “High level prey needs a high level hunter. Use a Chapter Master to Beat a Chapter Master.”

Anrir nods astutely. “Quite right. This evidence can also push him to open an investigation, which will also give Sammath pause. I'm sure he'd prefer his reputation remain untarnished, lest he bring the anger of the alliance to his doorstep.”

“So…he will be warned? Is that it?” Cedric asks incredulously.

“For the time being.” Anrir replies dryly. “After all, we're not able to play with our prey Directly given the circumstances. We'll have to play politics first.” Anrir sighs. “Loathsome business, but if we play our cards right, we can indeed entrap our prey.”

Hura puts a comforting hand on Cedric's shoulder. “Protecting your brothers and ousting Sammath will have to be a long game, my apprentice. But take comfort that it is not one you will be playing alone.”

Cedric mulls over his next words, unsure what to say next. “I know…you are right. But I still don't like it.”

“That's bureaucracy for ya!” Khopesh chortles. “The most tedious of necessary evils, as my Lullaby says anyway! Speaking of which!” He says turning on his heel. “I've got bags to drop off and my Lullaby and other Little Brother-Cousins to see. I'll catch up with you all later~! And Cedric,”

The Black Templar perks up, and listens.

“When you eventually get to rip those Bastards’ spines out, save a few for me, kay?” The Nightlord asks cheekily.

Cedric, despite his worry, finds himself smiling at the Nightlord's humor. “You have my word, Brother Cousin.”

Khopesh giggle-cackles at that. “Perfect!! Kay Byyyyyyyy!” And with that the Nightlord departs the way he came.

Cedric will link up with the other Primaris Marines, and see what they have managed to glean from the vision. As well as inform them that they have to wait on finding grave sites for the Dark Angels who had tried to steal Kerubiel, and those who had issued the order.

The others won't be pleased about the evil necessity of bureaucracy… Well maybe Atlas Or Olly would appreciate it somewhat. But Nanael is going to be a tough one to talk down, same with Thressl. The Space wolf and the Dark Angel have rather bonded with each other hard.

However, they will be rather pleased that Captain Ash’val will be sent to *remind* the Dark Angel Chapter Master about the Alliance between not just Chaos and Loyalist. But also between Loyalist chapters and why trying to pull some twisted shit to sate curiosity is a bad thing and that reprisals and consequences will occur should such a thing happen.

Captain Ash’val receives another message. He reads it and nods. He was just finishing The last lap with Oleandros and Kerubiel.

“Alright, come with me.” Ash'val says assertively, “training is over For now.”

The two Primaris were indeed challenged by the old Drake in their run, and they pant when they come to a stop. Where they have strength, Ash'val has experience and stamina built from years on the battlefields of the Imperium.

“Alright- But where are we going?” Kerubiel asks.

“To the Second Floor Art Rooms, I am going to make sure you are escorted to your fellow Primaris safely.” Ash'val clarifies, knowing it is best to be as honest with Kerubiel as possible. “We also Cannot go the direct way as certain…Guests are currently in the clinic.”

“Guests?” Kerubiel questions the emphasis put on the word. “Wait…you don't mean?”

Ash'val nods seriously.

Kerubiel's face drains of color. “Oh…no. No no NO!”

“Keru…” Olly puts a hand on Keru's shoulder.

“I will Not allow them to harm you.” Ash'val swears. “If they tried I would Crush them underfoot. However, that conflict could cause collateral damage, so I would prefer to avoid that.”

Olly nods in understanding. “Right, of course.”

“Why are they even Here!?” Keru hisses, they shouldn't have any idea where he resides.

Ash'val, despite himself, cracks a smile. “Well because their Apothecary was afflicted with a certain…malady, that he was unable to repair himself.” Then his expression shifts to one more serious than before. “Although, now that you've mentioned it, perhaps they hoped to do some reconnaissance by bringing the Apothecary Here for treatment.”

“UuuuuuAurrgh! Dammit!” Kerbiel snarls.

“Keru…please,” Olly pleads.

Kerubiel whips his gaze to meet Olly’s and…he softens. He forces himself to breathe. “I'm…I am alright. And I believe you, Captain.” He says, pulling himself back into order, and even stands at attention. “What is our next plan of action?”

Ash'val nods. “We will take the back way to the second floor, and meet with the other Primaris. Apparently two of your fellows received a vision, which had something to do with your run in with the Dark Angels currently stinking up our Clinic.” He explains. “You will be delivered to your fellow Primaris, and we will examine the image your brothers have drawn of the vision. Then we will plan our next move from there.” Ash'val concludes, picking up his pace again and leading the way. “Let's move out!”

“Sir yes Sir!” Both Primaris say in unison as they follow the Salamander.

…

The Art Room door opens with a creak and Lullaby whips their head up immediately. The other Primaris take notice, and stand as if to intercept a threat.

“At ease Scouts, it is only me,” A familiar Salamander enters the room. “And I have brought your brothers.” Ash'val gestures as the two other Primaris follow his path.

“Keru! Olly!” Lullaby books it over and immediately starts checking them for injuries, though most of their questions are aimed at Kerubiel given what they've seen. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Did any other Dark Angels see you?”

“Ack! I'm fine…why is it always hugs and touching with you?” Kerubiel grumbles but doesn't push Lullaby away.

“Ash'val led us safely, we were not spotted.” Olly replies, smiling as he's fussed over.

“And what's this about a Vision?” The Dark Angel Primaris asks.

Lullaby bites their lip and glances back to the table. “You better go see for yourself.”

Nanael nods affirming that statement. “Indeed, this is something you Need to see.”

Olly and Kerubiel do as instructed. Leaving Lullaby and Ash'val for a moment. “Thank You, Captain” They say, sincerely. “For getting them here safely.”

Ash'val hums. “No thanks necessary, it is my duty. And my duty here is nowhere near its end.” He replies. “I also want to see this vision image.”

Lullaby nods. “Of course, but if I may ask…have you heard from or seen Khopesh? I know he's back on base…I'm probably just worrying too much.”

“I know that Khopesh is going to arrive back here soon. Anrir informed me that he's finished his delivery of requested items.” Ash'val says kindly to the concerned human, then turns attention to the Primaris and joins them.

And indeed the sight before him on the page makes his mouth twist in disgust, but he tamps it down. “How many hostiles are we potentially dealing with?” He asks.

“We have counted at Least seven to possibly ten unique individuals in the vision, not including Kerubiel of course.” Atlas responds.

“And we have done our best to draw individual sketches of each.” Jophiel adds.

“No vision is perfectly clear, so these are our recollections as best we could manage.” Claude says

Ash'val nods. “I will need copies of these. And the originals will be archived for evidence.” He declares. “And None of you should approach any wandering or unfamiliar Dark Angels until this is resolved.”

“Why?”

Ash'val's attention turns to Kerubiel, who has been painfully silent ever since he laid eyes on the vision image.

The Dark Angel Primaris's eyes are full of fire. “It was me they wanted, why do All of us need to take precaution?”

Honesty. He must be Honest for these Scouts’ safety. “Because we have reason to believe this goes deeper than a rogue group engaging in kidnapping and torture.” Ash'val responds, and then pulls up the audio logs from Anrir.

The room goes silent as the ‘interview�� plays. Lullaby is the only one who doesn't understand because it's primarily in Gothic but again they parse certain words.

Cut…Examine…Take…Expires…KILL, BLEED! RIP!

And they can see the horror and disgust and Rage the others feel as the message goes on.

They'd even say they can almost Feel it. Nanael's expression actually makes it feel like cold blood it racing up their spine, it's just that chilling.

“None of us are safe.” Claude murmurs.

“Are you saying…they're going to try to do This,” Lullaby asks, gesturing to the image. “To someone else?”

Atlas nods grimly. “If they can capture a Primaris, be it any of us or a new arrival, I have no doubt this is what they have planned.”

*ZzztZtztz* The light flickers overhead again, as Lullaby's breathing and heart rate pick up. “They can't…” They say, trying desperately to hold in their spiraling emotions.

“Lullaby…” Claude says worryingly, but the baseline doesn't hear him, not really.

They're going to take them away. They're going to steal your loved ones in the night and rip them inside out…

They're going to hurt your family.

The psychers in the room sense the shift. But before they can think of a way to diffuse the tension (And keep Lullaby from blowing their secret in front of Atlas.) Lullaby speaks again with an honestly frightening finality behind their words.

“I Won't Let Them…”

“They Are a Nasty bunch aren't they?” The sound of a door opening and another familiar voice cuts through the tense air which seems to knock the baseline from their trance.

“Khopesh? Khopesh!” They cry, running to their tall dark scarred love. They practically jump into his arms and kiss him, finally relieved. “You weren't seen or followed, right? They didn't hurt you?” The baseline asks, gently running their hands over his face.

Khopesh responds by…purring. He Loves the feeling of his Lullaby's warm hands. “Rrrrrrrr, I am whole and well. But I Do find myself Drastically low on kisses.”

“...I just kissed you bat-winged Dork!” Lullaby retorts with an incredulous laugh.

“Mmm no, Ghosk is the one with Bat Wings. Oh No! My Lullaby has forgotten me! I will have to just keep holding and Kissing you till you remember!” Khopesh cackles, as he starts peppering Lullaby's face.

“Ack! Be serious!” Lullaby can't help but giggle due to their ticklishness.

Meanwhile the others in the room watch with varying degrees of Aw to Ew.

“They truly are an odd pair aren't they?” Atlas hums.

“They're a bit…overexcitable.” Nanael shrugs.

“Khopesh is over-excitable, period. It makes sense he'd find someone like that.” Jophiel responds.

Olly nods. “They do have a tendency to amp each other up. Not a negative per se just…observing.”

Ash'val doesn't reply, simply smiles at the Scouts' reactions as they are rather funny.

Lullaby does pull themselves together to firmly but kindly say. “But for real, there's something Awful that…didn't happen but Could still happen??” Lullaby sighs, clearly frustrated and anxious.

Khopesh looks to the rest of the room, before bringing himself over to look at the vision image and- “Curze shit Damn that is VILE, Brilliant but VILE.” He growls. “And So fucking Wasteful to use it on anything less than the Worst of bastards. Definitely should have made those fucking Scout snatchers swallow their own fingers! Or used that severed hand to dig out their intestines or-”

“Khopesh,” Claude chimes in politely, but insistently.

“Ahem! Ah right…” He hums awkwardly at getting too into retribution planning…again.

No one in the room necessarily disagrees with his statements, but they do need to focus on Defense for the time being.

“As I said. Unfamiliar or wandering Dark Angels are to be Avoided at all costs, and travel is Never to be undertaken without a Battle Buddy, even for short distances. That includes you little one.” Ash'val says to Lullaby, “They're looking for a Primaris and the Nightlord who slighted them. And there is no feasible way to separate your scent from his.” He explains.

A more angry rumble starts in Khopesh's chest. He wraps a protective arm around his mate's shoulders. “If they even Try to lay a hand on you, I'll make them Wish for the mercy of the grave. Might take some inspiration from their own playbook…”

“...I know you would. But for now we should focus on not letting ourselves be ambushed.” Lullaby replies solemnly, and squeezes Khopesh's hand to calm him.

“Indeed. I also need to discuss something with Anrir and Hura. Cedric should be coming around soon.” Ash'val states.

“Do you know where Thressl is?” Olly asks. “He's been… Quiet. Recently.”

“Thressl is on Patrol.” Ash'val Replies. “He should be back in three days.”

“Thank You sir.” Olly replies with a polite nod.

Ash'val nods back and heads to the Apothecarium where the five problems are. You wouldn't know it by his stoic face or his measured stride but he is furious, absolutely seething but he's also not a fool. The words of a drugged Dark Angel and the vision are...not enough for a Conviction. They need something more.

But these items are enough to convince him to take extra care around those Dark Angels and the Chapter Master especially. Added security and sending out a warning to be wary, as well as starting an investigation on the down low.

For now he promises to commit himself to helping the Primaris feel more of a belonging.

But first, he'll have to schedule a certain…visit. He manages to get to the room where Anrir, Cedric, Hura and Zariel are.

“When the Dark Angel awakens, I will accompany you in seeing him and his squad off the premises.” Ash'val addresses the Apothecaries leaving no room for argument.

“We were going to request your help in this matter,” Hura says with a smile, his tone is professional, but the edge of satisfaction sets Zariel’s teeth on edge.

“The Dark Angel should be waking up soon,” Zariel informs Ash'val.

There is some noise and arguments, the Interrogator Chaplain is snarling at one of the other Astartes who is manning the front desk. The Chaplain is trying to loom over the Iron Hand and use his rank and specialty to bully the battle brother.

“In the system it says that he's still waking up from anesthesia.” The Iron Hand says in cold apathetic tones. “Please go back to your seat or security will *remove* you from the premises Interrogator Chaplain.”

“And I am telling you, that it's taking to long!” The Interrogator Chaplain growls out.

“Surgery time can take longer, depending on if there are complications.” The Iron Hand retorts. “Please go back to your seat or leave.”

“I will not-.” The Interrogator Chaplain hisses out. Cutting himself off as he looks towards the area where his Apothecary had been whisked off to.

The argued over Apothecary is being helped by a large Salamander, with Captain markings. The Interrogator Chaplain frowns a little bit.

“What are you doing with one of my pride?” The Chaplain asks.

“The Apothecaries who were tending to him requested that I help guide him back to his squad. Once he was mobile enough to move he insisted on being returned to you.” Captain Ash’val says levelly as he eyed one of the others involved in something unwise.

He keeps his thoughts, and Rage hidden deep within His hearts. The rest of the pride of Dark Angels approach and look over their Apothecary. Ash'val helps guide them out of the base.

“Just a random question, Salamander,” one of the battle brother Dark Angels ask, “have you seen any younger brothers of the 1st recently?”

“Perhaps, why do you ask?” Ash'val asks levelly.

“Because they need to be sent to our Base, especially if they seem… overly large, training And socialization with their brothers is important.” The Chaplain says smoothly, “and we have… concerns that a Night Lord might be trying to corrupt One.”

“That is concerning,” Ash'val says. “If … such a thing is happening. I will speak with the younger cousins.” The Dragon lies through his sharpened teeth, which he then turns into a smile.

“In fact I think I would like to speak with Sammath, Chapter Master to Chapter Master.” Ash'val states. “So we may be certain all relevant issues are being…appropriately handled. I will of course send him a message myself, but I know his schedule is likely to be Very busy. If you could mention it in your next report to him. I would be exceptionally Grateful.”

The Chaplain seems to mull over Ash'val's words before replying. “Of course Chapter Master. We will deliver your message.”

Ash'val smiles, were he a real dragon the smoke twisting up from his maw would give him away. “Thank You. I so Appreciate, your cooperation.”

“Was there anything else that you needed?” The Chaplain asks.

“For the meeting with your Chapter Master Sammath, to be Within the month if possible.” Ash'val says pleasantly.

“We will send the message along.” The Interrogator Chaplain says with annod as they head off.

Ash'val watches them leave and wonders if they will actually go back to their base or wait for their wounds to heal and then try to steal Kerubiel or one of the others.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #adeptus astartes #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #oc: hura #oc: Anrir #oc: cedric #oc: Ash'val #oc: Zariel #oc: Khopesh #oc: Oleandros #oc: Jophiel #oc: Kerubiel

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puppycak3s · 6 months ago

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Girlie this is just straight smut mkay? I left a post on a cliff hanger but people heard me out so here we go. If you just wanna read the smut pls be my guest, but if you want the build up it is on my page. Love u fellow old man fuckers🫶 TW: for dubcon

You could feel your breath catch in your throat. It wasn't intentional, mostly a biological thing, but in all of your years of treating people you had never come across anything quite like this.

Your mind kicked into overdrive as you felt your cheeks start to burn. He- well maybe he was in pain but it wasn't what you were expecting. The groans and gasps you heard before suddenly shift into a different light. Your thoughts were abruptly interupted by a breathy keen. Your eyes darted to its source and you felt a familiar heavyness start to build in your stomach. A part of you was absolutely mortified at the fact that your friend was in obvious pain and discomfort and you. You were getting turned on by it. But another part, sickly, didn't mind that much. His eyes still dialated, red and brimming with tears? Dear god have mercy on your soul.

He tightened his grip slightly on your wrist and your stomach flipped when you realized you hadn't moved your hand. "I-" his voice was wavering either with embarrassment or maybe just the plants toxins, whatever they were. "I'm so sorry" he choked out a sob and it made you worry for him all the more. He hung his head as tears started to fall onto the floor. He gritted his teeth again and his hand squeezed your wrist tighter. "I tried to- but I couldn't and I- hah it hurts so bad, god" his whimpering quieted slightly as he pressed his forehead against the floor again.

Your mind was racing a mile a minute. He was in obvious pain. Not only that he was your close friend, and it hurt you to see him suffer like this. You only had an idea of what you could try, if he would let you.

"Ford sweetie?" You moved closer to smooth his hair on the back of his head. You thought- no you knew you felt his cock twitch when you did, and his little whines didn't go unnoticed either. "I have an idea of what might be able to help you" His eyes were screwed shut, eyebrows furrowed in a pitiful way. You could see his chest heaving and honestly it scared you. If you didn't do something quick, you didn't know what would happen. He still wouldn't look at you.

You knew he must feel embarrassed, mortified even, but you did care for him, maybe there was a way to soothe his worries before dealing with the task at hand. "Ford, honey, I don't know what happened, but I'm here now" you said softly, taking his face in your hands. You leaned closer to him and he buried his face into your shoulder, tearstained face wetting the fabric. You soothed him, continuing to pet his hair as his whining and heavy breathing reached a lesser but steady pattern. You were relieved that at least he wouldn't hyperventilate.

"Your body is just having a physical reaction to the plant you encountered earlier, as scary as it may seem, it's nothing to be ashamed of." He shifted himself closer to you, craving comfort, support from one of the few people he trusted. He was practically in your lap now, hands fisted into your shirt as if you were the only thing grounding him. "I thought I could- I never intended for this to, for you to" he gasped out muffled from your shirt. You shushed him, holding him tighter as his body shuddered against you.

"Ford I'm a medical professional, I've seen people in all sorts of states, did you really think this would scare me off?" He nodded his head weakly against you. You ducked your head down to his eye level and held his face again. He looked at you, his eyes were slightly bloodshot and his lips were parted to accommodate his rapid breathing. He trusted you, he would not have let you hold him, tell you of such an intimate problem if he didn't.

"Just take a breath for me, okay? Let's start with just that" He nodded his head again, not loosening his grip on your shirt. You could feel the tension decrease if only minutely. It was a start at least. He gathered a bit of courage to look up at you and speak softly. "You don't. Don't have to do this if you-" "Ford" you interupted him sweetly but stern. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to help you, whatever help that may be, I need you to understand that".

He let out another shaky breath, and nodded his head. "Okay- okay what should I... do?" He was searching your eyes like a lost puppy, needing a command. You smiled a bit, finding his inexperience endearing. "Just let me take care of it Ford, take care of you."

His breath hitched as one of your hands reached to unbuckle his belt, which was surprisingly difficult to do with one hand but you managed. He bucked his hips into you involuntarily when you undid the zipper to his slacks. "Oh fuck, I- I can't.. I need you to touch me" he whined trying to bury his face in your neck. You let him. "I know Ford, I've got you" you soothed, your free hand continuing to pet his hair. You had a feeling it had been a while since another person had done this to him.

He gasped as you pulled his cock free from his boxers, not even bothering to pull his slacks down past his hips. No time. His cock was absolutely drenched with himself, had he been trying to get himself off over his slacks? He must have been. He was shivering against you as you felt him throb in your hand. You don't think you've ever seen someone so pent up, so desperate for human touch. It did something to you, but that would wait. Your attention was on him.

He cried out sharply as you began to move your hand. "Is this okay, is it too much?" You whispered to him as you could feel him pant against you. "Please please please just, fuck!" He let out a breathless whine, akin to a dog. "Just- just use it however, no one's ever- please just keep going, pleaseee". You had never heard him like this before, breathless and whiney, and a part of you wanted to hear him like it again. Hopefully. "Shh, it's alright I've got you Ford, just focus on the feeling f'me." His hips continued to chase your hand as he chased his high, fuck he was so cute like this. "Mmnn, i, shit... i can't- i'm gonna, hah" his voice usually so deep, had entered a higher, truly pathetic whiney cadence as he panted against you, hands gripping onto your shoulders. You prayed he would leave bruises on you.

"That's it that's it, let go f'me honey it's alright" you trailed your free hand up and down his back softly, reassuring him. A broken cry that sounded like it was torn out of his throat as you felt him cum against your stomach and hand, hot and dense. It dripped down to the floor, onto your jeans, christ it probably was on the walls in some places. How could a man possibly have that much? His breath was still hot against you as he trembled in your lap. He looked, sounded wrecked the poor thing.

He stifled a sob against you as you held him closer to you, careful to avoid brushing against where he was most sensitive. "Thank you, thank you, thank you" he choked out, chanting between sobs. You shushed him again softly as you rested your chin atop his head. "It's okay, Ford, it's okay I'm right here". You stayed like that, holding onto him until his breathing evened out.

You lifted your head, brushing his hair from his eyes "how are you feeling?" He laughed a bit at that "that maybe Gravity Falls botanicals are something I should stay away from". He let out a sigh as he settled his head against your chest. "Although I- well I suppose with some engineering the plant could prove itself... useful". You playfully batted at his shoulder. "Ford Pines, I swear if you scare me like this again I will leave you on the floor." He chuckled again at you, meeting your eyes with a warm smile. "I'd deserve that, but" he reached his large hand up to cup your face, a mock stern look upon it. "Truly you have my deepest thanks, maybe I could, show you my appreciation?" You blinked slowly.

"Ford as much as I would like that, and I mean really really like that, I am not letting you touch me without you getting at least 8 hours of sleep" you said tucking his half hard cock back into his pants. His face grew red again. "Doctor's orders". He raised a brow at you. "I'm so sorry my dear, but I believe I am the only one here in posession of a PHD." You sighed hanging your head with a smile. "What am I going to do with you Pines."

Okay girl it is rushed and im not used to writing smut so I hope this is alright?

#gravity falls #ford x reader #stanford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines #ford pines smut #gravity falls x reader

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b0xerdancer-writes · 1 year ago

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The Rockrose and the Thistle

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: After Feyre had destroyed Tamlin's life he had just started to piece his life back together when he discovers his mate, sadly the mother has a sick sense of humor for Tamlin.

Prompt: Mates/Flower Language

Warnings: Angst, graphic violence, death, war, not a happy ending at all.

Word Count: 3,342

Notes: Short but its angst and I made myself cry thinking about this one so here we go!

Based off the song of the same name by The Amazing Devil. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rockrose, a low maintenance plant that is drought tolerant and can survive with minimal attention; they are seen as symbols of endurance, strength, and determination.

Thistle, a sharp flowering plant that is characterized by the prickles that cover its exterior, sometimes seen as terrible weeds but particularly amazing for pollinators; they are seen as symbols of protection, strength, devotion, bravery, determination, and victory.

Tamlin strolled through his garden, new additions had been added as he tried to rebuild the manor for her. His darling mate. A dull ache throbbed in his chest, there had been no good days since she had been injured in the war, before Hybern he had just begun to put himself back together after Feyre’s departure.

He had met her, a lesser fae that was half forest nymph, in one of the villages close to Rosehall; he had rode out to see what damage had been done and what repairs needed to be made around his court, when he had seen her kneeling beside a crying child offering him a dandelion.

“Make a wish Percius, don’t say it out loud, hold it in your heart and wish upon the flower.” She spoke softly.

The boy's sobs slowly turned to siffles as he nodded to what she said and blew the small white specks of dandelion to the wind. She rubbed his back and helped him to his feet, the child thanked her before he ran off.

The white mare made a noise as he entered the village that drew the female’s attention, her eyes had struck his soul and he clutched at his chest; a golden thread attached the two and her own eyes widened.

He jumped from his horse, the white mare following obediently behind him. “Its a pleasure to meet you my lady, I’m Tamlin. I come to your village to aide in any recovery efforts you may need. It would be a pleasure to have you escort me around so I may get to know my mate.”

“A pleasure to meet you my lord. Your recovery efforts are not needed thankfully. We have a good relationship with the dryads and nymphs in this area, they helped us with rebuilding.” She introduced herself with a pleasant smile. “However, if you still wish to get to know me, I can give you a tour.”

“It would be a pleasure, my lady.” He bowed.

He had toured the village, impressed by the unique style and structure the nymphs and dryads had weaved together with the ruins of the older building.

“If you don't need to move on yet my lord, would you be inclined to join me and my family for dinner tonight?” She offered.

“I would like that, my lady.” Tamlin responded.

“There is something about my family you should know before we head to the house, my father is a forest nymph. I'm half nymph and so are my little brothers.” She chirped anxiously.

“How fascinating, though I think nothing of it.” Tamlin replied.

“My father can come off as a bit protective.�� She noted.

“As any good male should be over his family.” Tamlin smiled.

“Okay. I think that is all I have to warn against in my family.” She huffed dramatically and Tamlin snorted in amusement.

“Then let us join your family for dinner.” Tamlin mused.

She led him through the dirt streets to her family’s home, a small farm on the outskirts; she led the white mare into the barn and removed her tack before letting her back into the field, she had seen the fern green hair of one of her younger brothers dart into the house and sighed.

“We have company, we better head inside now my lord.” She mumbled, enjoying her time alone with the pleasant male.

He smiled and cupped her face gently in one hand. “Don’t let the boys bother you darling, they are young and inquisitive.”

She nuzzled against his hand before leading him inside, the two small boys peaked from behind the counter before scrambling to hide in their mothers skirts.

“Welcome home dear, the boys told me you have brought a guest.” The female, heavily pregnant, looked up from the pot on the stove.

His mate cleared her throat ready to introduce him and their newly formed relationship, she was soft, gentle, and everything she was not. “Yes mother, sorry I did not inform you sooner. This is Tamlin, our high lord and my mate. I invited him to get to know you all.”

Her mother looked up quickly, excitement evident in her eyes. “Mate? Oh that's wonderful love! It's a pleasure to have you dine with us tonight! My husband Siriden will be home soon, he went to help the Hawkley family with some repairs to their animals coop. My name is Renata, the twin boys are Caius and Kyren. Please make yourself at home my lord.” She ushered him to sit, the multi-green nymph eyes of the boys stared around the edge of the cabinet.

“Please lady Renata, Tamlin is fine.” He smiled sitting in the carved wooden chair Renata had pulled out for him.

“Please my lord, Renata is fine.” She blushed and patted his back.

The second Tamlin was sitting, the boys stared him down from around the edge of the counter. Tamlin flashed them a fanged smile and they came running over, surrounding him and asking question after question about what he did as a lord, how cool it was to fight naga, his beast form, any and all things little boys could think of asking someone like Tamlin. His mate however joined her mother in the kitchen helping her set the table and plate the food.

Siriden pushed the door open and the boy's attention jumped from Tamlin to their father and they swarmed him. “Caius! Kyren! My boys! How good it is to see you.”

The male's nymph blood was evident, his skin tanned and faded into dark green at his knees and elbows; his eyes the same as the boys at his knees, a dark green sclera and a leafy color iris. Dark fern green hair mixed with vines and leaves was pulled half up in small braids. Tamlin could understand Renata’s appeal to the male.

Tamlin watched as his mate dried her hands on a cloth and moved towards her father, taking his coat from him. “Welcome back father, I hope everything went smoothly at the Hawkley's farm. We have a guest with us this evening.”

“Thank you dove, everything went smoothly besides having to herd the hens back up.” The male's eyes moved from his daughter to Tamlin. “My lord! Apologies for not greeting you sooner, it is an honor for you to join us but may I ask why?”

Renata lit up and came to stand behind Tamlin, her hands resting on his shoulders. “The High Lord is our daughter's mate.”

Siriden’s eyes widened. “Really! Well I must know how this revelation came about! I'd love to hear the story over dinner.” He took his seat at the head of the table, the boys to his left.

“It's nothing that exciting sir, as I’m sure you're aware, I've been making efforts in restoring the court.” Tamlin explained, “I was riding into town and she was knelt down by a small boy who was crying, she offered him a dandelion to wish away his worries. It reminded me of something similar my brothers would do when I was a babe. Then the next thing I know is the Golden thread connecting me to her. She offered to introduce me to everyone here after showing me around the village.”

“Dryads and nymphs are tight family groups, we normally stay with our parents till we marry; as a way to help raise our siblings since numbers within a family can become so large for us, we normally are all incredibly close till we die.” Siriden chimed, “it's why she wished to introduce us so early.”

Tamlin nodded, Renata brought Siriden and the boys’ plates, his mate brought him his before sitting beside him. The evening was great, Tamlin had laughed so hard tears had found their way into his eyes and his ribs were sore; it had been so long, he thought, since he had laughed like this.

The next day he brought her and her family up to the estate. The boys ran around the garden all afternoon, while he discussed courtship and marriage with her father. He led her around the halls on a tour like she had with her village and then they had dinner in the grand dining room, they joked and laughed till the boys collapsed on the couch; Tamlin hada carriage take them back to the village, he had helped her in and kissed her hand before closing the carriage door.

The two were married within the month and the bond had been consummated the night they were wed. He had worn a dark emerald green tunic and riding pants with his knee high boots, crown, and tabard. She had worn a sleek lace dress traditional in Nymph and Dryad communities, it was off white, the lace made images of flowers and nature, it was off her shoulders and Tamlin couldn't imagine her in anything better.

She supported him when he explained his plan with Hybern, he needed the intel and he needed her to play along as the oblivious doting wife but be present amongst the dryads, nymphs, wraiths, and other elementals incase he needed them to join his army in the war. And play the doting wife she did, Hybern never even suspected a thing until the night Tamlin helped Feyre and her sister escape his camp; she had been ‘kidnapped’ by Rhys and Feyre, when really she was rallying the forest folk and the ancient fae that were rumored to exist in the woods around them. When Tamlin had defected she tucked herself right into his side, a deadly glint in her eyes. Feyre would admit the female had scared her when she had first seen that glint and was just happy that the glint wasn’t pointed at her, even though she definitely deserved it.

One thing no one had expected was the fae bane antidote barely working for the elementals. Something Hybern had put in the bane had the potential for fatality if an elemental came into contact with it, but thanks to the antidote it kept them from immediately dying but immediate action needed to be taken to save the fae. In the throws of battle several elementals had fallen before they realized what was happening; they had lost approximately 70 nymphs, dryads, wraiths, and other variants of elementals. There had been a meeting with the healers to determine why the elementals had taken such a massive loss in comparison to the others that had been hit with the bane, at least the cause had been evident due to the pronounced purple veins. Tamlin had rocked her to sleep that night as she wept, she had felt like she let her people down.

The next fight had better results, an emergency squadron had been implemented with every battalion; if any fae went down it would be treated as an emergency and if it was an elemental triple antidote concoctions had been implemented until they could get them to the med tent. The plan had been working, Tamlin and his wife had been thrilled, his battalion had consisted of him, his mate, her father, 6 members of the spring court guard, and 4 other elementals. Their squadron had been on foot when they were ambushed, a barrage of arrows had come their way, the familiar purple glow of bane on the tips of the arrow heads.

Her father had been in a close combat fight with one of Hybern’s soldiers, she had seen the first arrow of the barrage before the rest had; she had howled out the warning for the barrage and rushed towards her father, he had cut down the soldier and turned to see her just as she pushed him out of the arrows path.

Tamlin felt his world shatter as his mate’s scream echoed in his ears. His blood roared as he ran to cover her collapsed body as the arrows buried themselves into his own back. Once all arrows had hit the ground she had been rushed to the med tent and he had all of the arrows pulled from his back, then his rampage had begun; he had ripped a wound through Hybern’s wall of soldiers so he could get back to her, back to his wife.

Unfortunately, the healers in his battalion were ill equipped, they were short two vials of antidote. They had been able to inject her with one additional vial of antidote, the bane had found its way far enough into her bloodstream before they made it into the med-tent and injected another dosage into her that it had caused permanent damage. When Tamlin pushed through the privacy curtain his heart broke further as he fully felt her pain through the bond; he had wanted to scream and break down for her since she couldn’t, they had to restrain and gag her as the bane burned its way through her body.

The healers had to pull Tamlin from the room as her body began to convulse in reaction to the bane in her blood. Siriden had comforted the male as they waited for news of the female’s wellbeing. Eventually, a nurse came out to the awaiting males, a sad look in her eyes.

“She’s pulled through, unfortunately the bane was in her system strong enough and long enough to permanently affect her.” The female sighed. “We don’t know how it will affect her, she's asleep right now.”

Both males had thanked her and slipped into the room, one on each side to hold her hands and ask the mother for help. A silent look between them of complete agony, the atmosphere of the room was an embodiment of sorrow itself and the on edge tension was palpable to anyone who walked by.

Tamlin had hoped she would pull through, but as he stood in the garden arranging a bouquet for the vase of her room. She had never fully recovered, the bane burned her veins so badly she had been bound to the bed of her room in agony. Every move she made, even breathing hurt her, he had to step out after her screaming and begging had become too much for him, the dull throb of her pain in his chest numbed every day as he had gotten used to it; he truly hated what he was doing, hoping if he made her endure it eventually light would show at the end of the tunnel and they could begin working on getting her back to her feet.

The flowers in his hand echoed back at him as tears began to well in his eyes, Rockrose, a promise of endurance and his determination to see her through this; and thistle, a promise of his protection over her and his devotion to her.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and he tried to push her begging to let her go from his mind. She had given up, he knew all the fight she had was gone, but he just couldn’t let her go yet. He had lost one love, he couldn’t lose his mate too. He sighed and slipped back inside, he had instructed a healer to slip her some milk of the poppy to get her to sleep; she slept softly almost like she wasn't in pain at all but the purple of her veins was a brutal reminder of her waking agony. Tamlin set the combination of flowers into the vase, pressing a kiss to her forehead he pulled the thin quilt over her body.

He had kissed her goodnight, opened her window to let the soft breeze into the room, and disappeared into their old bedroom. Tamlin tossed and turned every night now that her side was cold and barren, the blanket was never messed up now and it was agony to him. In the middle of the night he had been awoken to the screams of his love, he let the nurses go every night so he slipped back down the hall and into her room. She was sitting up and sobbing, the blankets pulled back and her legs dangling from the side of the bed; Tamlin moved a few steps into the room and tried to comfort her but she shoved him away.

“I can’t do this anymore Tamlin.” She sobbed.

“Love please, you can make it through this.” He begged.

“It's been a year Tam, I should have recovered from this already if I was. The bane should have been deadly, Tamlin let me go please.” She broke down.

“We can talk about this in the morning, love.” Tam soothed trying to coax her back into bed.

“There won't be an in the morning Tam, I’m done fighting through this. That's why I’m asking you to let me go now.” She sobbed and sniffled.

“Sure there will be love. It’s just the fever and delirium speaking.” He crooned and picked up the small pitcher of poppy milk and poured it into the serving glass.

She drank it with a sigh. “Okay Tam.”

TAm kissed her head, and tucked her back in; when he got back to his room he broke down into a sob, her asking him to let her go was the final straw for him. He knew the day would come when every ounce of fight left her but he would give her his fight, he'd guide her through this. Eventually he had cried himself to sleep only to be woken by a panicked nurse. A small female, whose face had paled; an ache in his chest was the answer to his question before he had even asked it.

“Prepare her body then, I’ll be there to see her as soon as I get dressed.” He had taken a sharp breath, tears biting at his eyes.

The female had nodded quickly and ran from the room, Tamlin dragged himself from bed slowly; he pulled the only black tunic from his closet and threw his tabard across his chest. He leaned on the door frame, and tried to breathe through the pain in his chest; he slipped from the room and out of Rosehall, down to the priestesses temple. His lover laid on a stone slab, he bit his tongue as all of the females gave him sympathetic looks.

“Decorate her body in thistle and rose rock please.” Tamlin had to fight the sobs from his throat.

“Weeds? My lord I-” a female had interrupted.

Tamlin roared. “I said I. Want. Her. Body. Decorated. In Roserock. And Thistle. They are symbols of strength and protection.”

The females squeaked and the one who had called them weeds apologized profusely, the rest of the females began work immediately. Tamlin pressed one last kiss to her forehead before he stepped back through the grand doors of Rosehall. At a loss for words Tamlin climbed the steps to the room she had occupied since her return from Hybern.

The window he had opened for her the night before was still open, the sheer curtains blowing in the wind, the room was sterile and medical except for the vase that sat on the end table; full of the rockrose and thistle he handpicked yesterday, the wind blew across the vase and the flowers. A whistle echoed through the room as he watched the flowers shift in the wind. The whistle sounded so much like that of the arrows that ruined their lives, he couldn’t fight the sobs any longer. He sat on the floor and let the sobs rack over his body as he thought back on every moment he had gotten to share with his darling little mate, the rockrose to his prickly thistle. Taglist:@tamlinweek

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin #tamlin week

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asprinkleoftism · 3 months ago

Text

Forever

Donald Ferguson x Reader

About: After being overwhelmed from parenting, Donald takes the reins for the day.

Notes: This came to me in a dream and it had to be done. Cecil x Reader short coming soon. Also sorry if this seems to abruptly end I was writing this after being up for nearly 24 hours. Enjoy :3

The crying. The crying wouldn’t stop. It was to the point that you had to just lay her down and walk away. She was fed, diaper changed, rocked with, played with, and yet the fussing and crying wouldn’t die down. You have done all that you felt like you could have done and some, and still nothing.

“Oh god, honey please calm down.” You mumbled to yourself, pacing in the living room.

Your daughter laid in her crib in the other room as you tried to control your uncontrollable breathing. The room started to spin and you had to sit down. Of course you were worried about your daughter because this was out of the norm, but what else could you do to help her out? Nothing. Suddenly the front door opened.

“Honey, I’m-”

You didn’t think twice of jumping into your husband's arms. Donald was a little taken back by your sudden hug but he immediately hugged back, holding you so tightly in his arms. He ever so slightly rubbed your head in a petting motion. Donald took notice of your shaking statue and the sounds of his daughter crying in the other room.

“Is everything alright?”

“I’ve..I’ve done everything, Donald. I promise, I have, but she just won’t stop crying.” You whimpered out, soaking his suit with pent up tears you didn’t realize you were holding in.

Donald held you tighter, letting you nuzzle into his neck. He could sense it was a rough day for the both of you. He hated that you felt this way, felt that you weren’t doing a great job at being a parent. But he could tell you right now that you were. You are an amazing parent and you were doing an amazing job. Some days are just rougher than others.

“It’s okay, honey. You’re doing amazing, some days are just rougher than others.” Donald cooed to you.

You tried to stop the sobbing but you were practically soaking his neck.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here. Breathe, talk to me.” Donald cooed to you some more.

“I just..I don’t know, Donald. I’ve tried everything and she won’t stop crying. It’s been like this all day. I haven’t been able to hardly sit or eat.” You mumbled.

Donald immediately felt an intense weight hit his chest. It shouldn’t be like this at all.

“Hey.” Donald started as he pulled you away just enough for you to look at him. “I want you to get something to eat, some water and even some wine if you want, sit down and watch TV. I will handle Bea.”

“Donald, we’re a team-”

“You need a day and a half to relax. I know how hard it’s been without me here full time. I am working on it, I promise. But you deserve to relax. Please do it.” Donald practically begged.

Just from looking at you alone he could see the slight dark circles forming under your eye and he silently cursed at himself, wishing he noticed it sooner. You stared right through his sunglasses, knowing he was being sincere and serious. Sure he has taken over a few times when you had to nap, shower or even eat, but he was offering tonight and tomorrow. This was why you loved him so much, and why you married him and started a family with him.

“Thank you.”

Donald gingerly lifted your chin to make you make eye contact with him. He then leaned in and connected your lips onto his. Every kiss felt the same, love, passion and care. That’s what Donald has for you and always will be. You two have been happily married for many years now and were like an old married couple. You two were very happy with each other and knew y’all would be together for as long as y’alls bodies were able to. Bea, y’alls daughter, came as a surprise but you both were super excited to welcome her into the world and be parents. Donald was able to talk Cecil into lesser hourly days so he could be home and so far it has been working out. But of course, you were home and Donald was at work. He was the breadwinner and made more than enough for the three of y’all and some. You just wish he was home a little more but you also knew that this was just a stick in the mud. This too shall pass. Donald leaned even more into you, deepening the kiss. Bea’s cries were worsening and you pulled away. You felt terrible doing so and knew he was just trying to comfort you. You were his married significant other after all. But you kept close though to the point your noses were touching.

“I better go check on her.”

Donald smiled as he guided you to the couch.

“You sit and I will take care of her, alright?” Donald said.

You chuckled as you sat down on the couch, feeling immediate relief in your legs and feet. It felt so good, almost too good.

“I’ll be right back.” Donald announced as he walked down the hall to Bea’s room.

As soon as Donald stepped in, he was met with crying, but it was a type of crying that was near quiet because of exhaustion.

“Sweet Bea, what is the matter?” Donald pitched his voice a tiny bit to talk to her.

Donald is aware of how deep and mellow his voice is and while Bea likes his voice normally, she seems to snap out of whatever meltdown she was in everytime Donald raised it in pitch. Bea mostly quieted down as Donald looked down into her crib.

“Your flowers not doing anything for ya?” Donald spoke, slightly moving the handmade flowers you and him made for Bea.

It was basically her homemade mobile. Bea’s eyes lit up and she babbled a little, as if she was reminded that the flowers existed. Donald smiled big. Bea was starting to look like both you and him in a way. It was hard to explain but the resemblance was there. Donald’s eyes were glued to Bea. Her and you were all he thought about everyday. It was something when it was you and him, but now he had his lover, his other half and now his child to look forward to at home. Donald never imagined having kids but he was so happy to do it with you. He couldn’t help himself. Donald leaned forward, carefully and delicately, picked up Bea and held her close to his chest. Bea was still fussing a little bit but immediately leaned into Donald.

“What’s wrong, Bea?” Donald said, comfortingly rubbing her head.

Bea cooed some. Donald mimicked the cooing.

“I don’t know what that means.” Donald giggled while Bea did as well.

Donald knew Bea couldn’t understand what he was saying but she always giggled when him or you giggled. Donald rocked his hips a little bit, making his body sway with Bea. Bea giggled some more.

“There. That’s what I want to hear, not cr-”

Donald was interrupted by Bea spitting up onto his suit out of nowhere. He grimaced a little, not because of the spit up of the suit but that indicates to him that Bea was probably feeling under the weather.

“Oh, sweetie, no wonder you’ve been fussing all day.” Donald said.

Donald immediately cleaned Bea up, wiping her face with some baby wipes and changing her into a clean onesie before working on himself.

“Give me a second there, Bea.” Donald told Bea as he sat her down into the crib. “I’ll be right back.”

Donald walked out of the nursery and back into y’alls bedroom, where you were at, sitting in y’alls bed, under the covers with a book and some wine in the nightstand. Before Donald came in here, you hesitated on his offer, not wanting him to take the entire workload but you knew Donald was true to his word. If he said it, he meant it. You grabbed a snack, poured some wine into a glass and went into y’alls bedroom. Once in the bedroom, you opened a book you had been meaning to start, most likely one Donald got you. Just after getting through the prologue, Donald stepped into the bedroom, slipping off his blue tie.

“Is she being too much?” You ask.

Despite seeing the spit up on his suit, Donald turned to you with a reassuring smile.

“No, not at all. I think she may be under the weather though, which would explain her fussing.” Donald explained to you.

He started working on unbuttoning his shirt were you let your eyes wander. Donald knew you were staring at his bare chest and he couldn’t help but get flustered a little. Even after many years of marriage, Donald still gets flustered at your little comments or actions towards him, this being one of them when your eyes just become glued to him when he is getting undressed for the day.

“Do I have some spit up on my chest?” Donald jokingly asked.

“Nope, perfect as it should be.” You winked in response, causing Donald’s face to become pinker.

Donald laughed as he got out of suit pants and dress shoes and into his home clothes which was just a plain t-shirt and some light grey sweatpants. Donald then walked up to you, leaned in, and placed a passionate kiss onto your lips.

“She’s okay, honey. From what I have studied prior, we should get concerned if she has a bad fever, won’t eat and can’t breathe properly.” Donald rubbed your shoulder reassuringly.

What Donald said helped a little but you still couldn’t help but feel some concern. Not even cause Bea was possibly sick but because Donald was able to figure it out while you were just stressed from being overstimulated.

“Hey. It doesn’t mean you’re any less of a parent, I promise. Just a bump in the road, love.” Donald reassured you.

No matter what the situation was or how constant he had to be, Donald always made an effort to reassure and comfort you constantly. Whether it would be questioning how you look or how great of a partner you are being or if you were being a great parent or not, Donald would always reassure you. You nodded in response, making Donald smile.

“Do you think she is sick?” You ask.

“The spit up is not normal and considering she was fussy and crying all day like you said, it's a possibility. We won’t know until she starts to develop a fever and then we will see her pediatrician.” Donald explained to you.

That sounded about right. The second you told Donald about Bea coming into y’alls lives, he immediately started planning out the nursery as well as reading all of the books and attending parenting classes. He was absolutely ready and swore he wouldn’t cry upon Bea’s arrival but he cried the second he held her. Of course they were good tears and he was just absolutely smitten and happy with the two of y’all.

“Okay.” You say.

“It will all be okay, I promise.” Donald promised.

“I know.” You smile, knowing your man meant his word.

“I’m going to wrap her in the baby wrap on me so I can keep a close eye on her and hang out downstairs, do some reading or a puzzle if you would like to join me. Or you can stay right up here, enjoy some alone time and catch up on some sleep. Your choice.” Donald offered.

You knew in your heart that Donald would not be offended by whichever he picked. He would be happy for you to join him downstairs but also would be happy for you to have some alone time.

“I think some alone time would be good for me.” You answer.

Donald kissed your forehead.

“Good pick. If anything changes I will come get you. Just stay up here and rest up. You deserve it, mama.” Donald comforted you.

“Thanks, Don.”

“You’re welcome.”

Donald placed one last kiss onto your lips before pulling apart and departing to Bea’s room. You went back to your book and wine while Donald was stepping back into Bea’s room.

“Hey sweet Bea.” Donald announced his presence to her.

Donald grabbed the baby wrap, held Bea close and successfully wrapped her up snugly and securely against his chest. Bea smiled wide upon being close to her Dad which in turn made Donald smile.

“There’s your sweet smile, Bea.” Donald sang out as he walked out of the nursery and into the living room.

Despite Bea being snug as a bug in a rug against Donald, it was a habit for him to hold Bea with his arm. When you both started using the wrap, he was so scared of the wrap coming unloose somehow or her falling out of it but that’s because Donald didn’t want anything to happen to Bea. Same goes for you. You both were his entire world and he would do everything in his power to protect you both. He would give you both the entire world if he could. Donald decided to sit down and work on a small puzzle while engaging with Bea the whole time. He would show Bea a piece and she watched every time her dad put the pieces together. Even though he knew she probably couldn’t understand to an extent what was going on, Donald was just happy to have some bonding time with his daughter. It was much needed especially since he was able to give you a break and he would be doing the same for you tomorrow all day. Cecil could handle one extra day without him there.

“And..done!” Donald announced as they both finished the puzzle together.

Granted he was the one who placed the piece down but Bea was pointing, babbling and being engaging. Donald loved every minute of it. And when it came to feeding time, he didn’t bother you and instead warmed up a bottle. You were being quiet so he assumed you were tucked under the covers catching some Zs. It’s what you needed the most after all. Once the bottle was finished, Donald leaned Bea over his shoulder and gently patted her back to make her burp. He waited for her to burp and upchuck on his back but it didn’t happen, thankfully.

“Well you didn’t spit up this time, that’s good.” Donald said.

Bea just giggled at Donald. Donald then went and sat down on the couch, watching some TV but mostly daydreamed. Every time he would lay eyes upon Bea, he would see more and more of your appearance in her. You were a great parent and always would be, no doubt about it. He just wishes you didn’t have those insecurities about yourself. Sure it’s not always going to be perfect but he would never make you feel bad for feeling the feelings you feel. Donald wasn’t like that and you knew that. Donald would always, always, always make sure you and Bea were loved, reassured and taken care of. Forever. And he was perfectly content with that.

#invincible #invincible show #donald ferguson #asprinkleoftism #invincible donald #donald ferguson headcanons #donald ferguson x reader

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