#something something the daughter and father laugh at the mother but that does not save the daughter from the mothers fate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

athenamikaelson · 6 months ago

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Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!reader x Elijah Mikaelson Part 12

Warnings- 4.2k

Word Count- Swearing, violence, mentions of sex

“Is he my father or not,” My voice seems to echo throughout our family's little living room as I glare at my mother.

“It’s not that simple, Y/N,” My mother raises her hands in surrender as she begins to take a step closer to me. The dark glare on my face seems to halt her movements and she closes her eyes and sighs.

“He’s the man that raised you, he-”

“You. Know. What. I. Mean,” I cut her off, biting out each of my words, “I want the truthful answer. Is Y/F/N Y/L/N my biological father?”

I seem to lose all the air in my chest as I watch my mother drop down onto the couch and look up at me with tears running down her face. And that’s all I need to have my answer.

“Oh my god,” I cover my mouth as my chest starts concaving on itself. Tears cloud my vision as I stare at my mother. Her tears mimicked my own. And a wave of anger flows through my body. She was crying as if she was the victim here. She was crying in front of her emotionally and physically wounded daughter as if this wasn’t her fault.

I sit on the dark coffee table in front of my mother, our knees touching as I stare at her, “You’re going to tell me everything. And don’t even try lying to me.”

My mother looks up at me and nods as she puts her head in her hands, “Eighteen years ago your father and I were having problems. We’d been married 3 years and still couldn’t conceive. It took a toll on both of us. I got depressed and well… you know how your father gets when he is upset,” She looks up at me and I slightly nod as a wave of nausea passes over me, “Your father was out of town for the night and so I thought I would go down to a little bar outside of town. I was there for about an hour before I thought of leaving. But right when I was about to,” she pauses in thought for a moment then continues, “The most beautiful man I’d ever seen approached me. We talked throughout the night and then,” She looks at me to see if I understand where she was going and I nod disgusted.

“After I did what I had done I had never felt more disgusted with myself in my entire life. You have to believe me Y/N,” She reaches out to take my hand but I flinch away from her.

“Does Dad…or your husband know,” I ask but a part of me already knows the answer.

“When I fell pregnant with you soon after, you have to understand how happy your father was, I had never seen him that in love with something in the time I’d known him. You saved our marriage, Y/N. But… as you got older and you developed more of your own features and personality, neither of which were like me or him… I think your father realized or suspected that you weren’t his.”

My eyebrows furrow as I try to hold back my tears and sobs, “Is that why he…am I the reason he left?”

My question has my mother quickly shaking her head, “Your father and I had our own problems and even if it was because of that, it still isn’t your fault. He is still your father, he is the one who raised you.”

I stand up quickly, making sure not to move too much to upset my wounded arm, which is currently in a sling, and I huff out an angry laugh, “Raised me! Raised me?! I saw that man maybe once or twice a month for 16 years and in those few moments, all he caused was torture and heartbreak in my life. That man didn’t raise me! And looking at you now… I realize that you barely raised me too… I raised myself. Just like I’ve raised Theo,” I walk backward out of the living room as I shake my head at my mother, “I’ll never forgive you for this. Never.”

I hear my mother call out to me as I grab my keys and run out of the house. Rain pours down on me, dampening my clothes as I throw open my car door and turn it on.

I drive around trying to decide my next move, and somehow I end up in the Salvatore’s driveway.

I’m practically on auto-pilot as I walk up the stairs to the front door, I bring my hand up and knock, and within a moment it slams open and Damon stares down at me.

“What the hell do you…Y/N,” He pauses as he stares at my tear-filled eyes, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

I just stare at him and he takes a step forward and brings a hand to my arm. His touch seems to bring me out of my stupor and tears explode from my eyes as I throw myself into Damon’s arms. He doesn’t react for a moment as I cry into his shirt, but after a moment I feel his arms come and wrap around me.

“You want to…um, talk about it,” Damon asks quietly as if he’s not really sure how to comfort a teenage girl.

“My dad,” I hiccup out a sob, “Isn’t my dad!”

I feel Damon nod and he hums, “Um, sure, ok. Not entirely sure what that means,” He says the last part under his breath.

“I can’t go home. I can’t see my mom,” I pull away from Damon and I wipe the tears away from my face with my t-shirt sleeve.

Damon looks down at me for a moment before he turns sideways and gestures to the living room, “Then you’re going to stay here. For as long as needed.”

—

-2 months later-

“Hurry up hoe! This party isn’t going to decorate itself,” Caroline’s cheery voice calls up to me as I leave my bedroom at the Salvatore’s.

“I’m coming Caroline, chill out,” I laugh to myself as I descend the stairs to where Caroline is standing. She shoots me a bright smile that rivals the sun when she sees me.

“I can’t believe you’re still living here,” Caroline says as she grabs my hand and pulls me down the hall.

I laugh awkwardly, “Ya, I guess I just like the bed here better than the one at my house.”

“And your mother really doesn’t care,” Caroline asks and I flinch at the mention of the woman I haven’t talked to in two months.

“Um, ya. Theo’s away at some football camp until school starts and my mom’s always working so she doesn’t care.”

“You’re so lucky that you’re mom is so chill,” I laugh at the irony of that. My mom being “too chill” is the reason I’m not living at home right now. Caroline doesn’t know that though so she shoots me an odd look as she must’ve heard me laughing to myself.

After finding out about my paternal issues and moving in with Damon I made up a lie to all my friends that the reason I was living with him was that I needed a little vacation from my life, and not that I’m pissed off at my mom and scared to go home because it means I’ll have to face the reality of my life now.

Damon is currently the only one who knows of my new “bastard” status. Even though sometimes I feel like strangling him, he has honestly been kind of a great friend these past two months. He’s gone along with my lie, not even telling Elena, who he is totally in love with. Damon and I have even started our own movie nights. Right now we’re bingeing the TV show Supernatural. He and I both like Dean, but our reasonings are a little different. God, I love Jensen Ackles.

We’re postponing our movie night tonight because Caroline and I, mostly Caroline, are throwing Elena her 18th birthday party. Elena told me to promise her that we wouldn’t make the party too big, but I kind of had to cross my fingers behind my back when I made that promise because when it comes to Caroline Forbes, no one will get in the way of her party making plans.

“Good morning,” I look over to see the birthday girl smiling up at me as Caroline and I enter the living room. She and Tyler, who nods hello at me, are going through boxes upon boxes of party supplies.

“It’s 1 pm,” I say back to her and she frowns and checks her watch.

“Oh… Good afternoon then,” She laughs sheepishly.

I walk down the steps and bring her into a hug, “Happy birthday, Elena!”

I can hear Elena sigh and she pulls away from me, “Thank you,” Her vision goes from me to the boxes surrounding us, “I thought you said this was going to be lowkey?”

It’s my turn to smile sheepishly at her as I gesture towards Caroline, who is currently bitching to Tyler about hanging a streamer wrong, “You try getting in the way of her planning something. I love you Elena, but I’m more scared of her.”

Elena turns to look at Caroline as well and we both cringe when she hits Tyler over the head with a hard plastic plate.

“Good point,” Elena whispers out.

—

“I feel like I have to fight Damon every single time we get a lead on Stefan,” Elena’s complaints have me side-eyeing both Caroline and her. I try to busy myself with unraveling some string lights, trying not to seem suspicious in any manner. I’m the only one here who knows really just how much Damon knows about Stefan’s “activities” this summer.

About 3 weeks ago I found the articles about Stefan and he who shall not be named in Damon’s closet when I was going through Damon’s things. He’d gone through my things so I thought I’d return the favor.

When Damon found out I knew he made me promise to keep it to myself. Only he, myself, and Ric could know. Damon didn’t want to worry Elena about all the killing Stefan had been doing. So “The Squad,” as I like to call us, have been researching different “animal killings” around the US this summer. Unfortunately, Damon and Ric won’t let me go on any of the road trips with them so I’ve been stuck at the Salvatore house this summer.

“Maybe he doesn’t wanna find him,” Tyler’s comment makes me cringe slightly at the irony.

“Tyler!”

“What? He’s into you. Isn’t he” He asks Elena.

“The only reason Stefan left with Klaus was so that he could save Damon’s life,” Elena explains as she takes the supplies Tyler handed her, “I mean, trust me Damon wants to find him.”

You have no idea.

“But…you kissed him. Probably screwed with his head,” Tyler says and Caroline and Elena whip around to look at him while I hover a hand over my mouth to keep me from giggling. I’ve made fun of both Elena and Damon on multiple occasions this summer about the “kiss of death,’’ as I like to call it.

“Tyler,” Caroline exclaims and Elena shoots her an “Are you serious” look.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline apologies wholeheartedly.

Elena raises her hand and shakes it, “I…Don’t worry about it. Look, yes, I kissed him, but it was a…”

“Kiss of death,” I say under my breath, but Elena still hears me and shoots me a glare.

“It was a goodbye kiss. I thought he was gonna die,” She tries to explain herself but Tyler shoots me a look and I have to fight off a laugh.

Elena fishes her phone out of her pocket, “I just missed a call from Bonnie,” She says.

At the mention of my witch friend, I perk up, “Tell her I say hi!”

Elena nods in agreement as she leaves the room. As soon as she goes, Caroline groans and whips around to stare at the werewolf.

“Just because I tell you things, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to know them,” She exclaims at him to which he apologizes.

“I gotta run if I’m gonna change and pick up Sophie in time,” He says as he waves goodbye to me.

“Wait, you’re bringing a date? Slutty Sophie is your date,” Caroline asks and I frown at the nickname she gave her.

“Hey,” Tyler turns around, “It’s been kinda slow in that department. And… I’m horny all the time now.”

“Ya, tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna explode” Caroline agrees and I gag out loud.

“Ok, has no one here ever heard of too much information,” I say as I make a show of covering my ears. I go back to decorating trying to block out the obvious sexual tension between the vampire and wolf as they talk about their sex lives, or lack of.

“Bye Y/N,” Tyler’s voice calls out to me and I just wave him off, which makes him laugh.

I turn around and watch Tyler walk out of the room and then I turn to my blonde friend, “Well, that was painful to watch…and hear.”

Caroline groans and throws the cups she has in her hands back onto the table in front of us, “Tell me about it. I just…ugh, I don’t know,” She groans in annoyance again as she picks up some streamers and tape.

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

I laugh slightly at her pleading tone and nod, “Sure, what about?”

Caroline thinks for a moment before turning to me and smirking, “About the guy you’re bringing tonight.”

I roll my eyes at the insinuation in her voice, “It’s not like that at all. Alastair is a work friend. He’s new to town and I thought he could use some more friends.”

“Is he cute,” She raises her eyebrows suggestively and I shoot her a look.

“Some might say that but I’m not into him like that, and he’s definitely not into me like that either,” I respond.

“And how would you know that,” She questions.

I think back to all the times I’ve seen him ogling the male customers at work and smile to myself, “Just a hunch.”

“When did you meet the guy again?”

“Around the start of the summer when I started working at The Grill. He got a job right after me and we’ve been put on the same schedules at pretty much the same times, oddly enough. He moved from Louisana, I believe.”

Caroline nods, “And he doesn’t know about…you know what?”

I shake my head, “As far as I can tell he’s a perfectly normal NON-supernatural guy.”

“Unlike Elijah right,” I glare at Caroline because of her comment which only makes the smirk on her face deepen.

“And unlike Tyler, right,” I smirk back at her and we both drop the subject on both of those men. Caroline got the jist about my little “friendship” or whatever it was with Elijah when she, Elena, and I, accidentally got into Jenna’s wine supply a few weeks ago. He also told me about her confusing feelings about Tyler.

“Okay fine, changing the subject again,” She thinks to herself before frowning and looking at me, “Wait…when did you say your birthday was again?”

I frown at the question, “I didn’t say it.”

Caroline shoots her hands up in the air like a mad woman, “Well then tell me, hoe!”

I fight back a groan at her question and I don't want to answer but knowing Caroline she won’t stop bringing it up unless I tell her, “It was a few weeks ago.”

Caroline stares at me in shock as she drops the streams she currently holding. A wee bit dramatic might I add.

“Excuse me! Why didn’t you tell anyone,” She practically screeches at me.

I shrug as I go back to untangling the lights I’ve been working on, “Elena has asked but I always just brush it off. Damon also knows, but he doesn’t celebrate birthdays either so I didn’t have to worry about him throwing me a party.”

Caroline’s eyes practically fall out of her head at my words, “So you did absolutely nothing for your birthday!?”

I just shake my head as if it’s nothing, “I don’t ever celebrate my birthday, Care. I haven't in years… I mean Damon and I had a pizza night, but other than that, no not really.”

Caroline continues to stare at me in shock as she comes over to me and throws her hands onto my shoulders, “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N I solemnly swear I will be throwing you a huge 18th birthday party very soon. And it will make you change your mind about not celebrating.”

I go to argue but she puts a finger to my lips, “Hush hoe. I’ve already started planning in my head.”

Someone kill me now.

—

“Well, don't you just look Darling,” Damon's sarcastic voice sounds from behind me as I flatten out my dark blue dress.

I turn around and see him wearing the same color top, “We’re matching!”

Damon looks at his top and then the color of my dress and groans, “You really need to move out. We’re starting to become the same person.”

I frown slightly at his comment and I think he notices because he clears his throat, “That was a joke, Pukey. You practically have already made this entire place yours I doubt you’re moving out anytime soon.”

“And yet you still won’t let me paint the walls,” I gesture to the wooden walls of my bedroom.

Damon shoots me a glare as he raises his arm for me to take, “The wood on these walls costs more than some of the houses in this town. I’d rather die than let you paint them.”

I walk over and grab his arm and he leads me out of my room and down the hall where I can hear dozens of people yelling and music blaring.

“Did you find anything about-” Damon shushes me before I can finish my sentence.

“No talk about that tonight. Only happy drunk thoughts tonight,” I want to argue but I notice the tension in his shoulders and drop the topic for a later time.

“Where’s the birthday girl?”

Damon slightly glares at the young teens that surround us, “With Blondey. Somewhere.”

“Y/N!”

The sound of someone calling my name has me turning around. I smile once I’ve found the caller. Alastair’s bright smile shines at me as he pushes through the hordes of people. His dark skin contrasts beautifully with the white button-up shirt he’s wearing. Dark slacks cover his long legs and I have to fight back a laugh at how put together he looks compared to the rest of the people around us who look like they picked out the first piece of clothing they could find in their closets.

Alastair slightly grabs me out of Damon’s arms and brings me into a hug, “You look beautiful.”

His compliment makes a warm feeling coat my cheeks as I look at him. “You don't look so bad yourself,” And I’m not lying either. He’s shaved down his hair again since the last time I saw him so he’s rocking a buzz cut that makes him appear even more striking and his dark brown eyes sparkle against the bright lights that Caroline and I had previously hung up around the house.

“I fear I might’ve overdone it a bit. It has been awhile since I’ve been to a highschool party” He jokes as he gestures toward his attire.

“You think,” Damon’s sarcastic tone has me turning to glare at him.

“Alastair this is Damon,” I gesture to the man beside me.

Alastair who is usually all smiles seems to glare at the vampire next to me for a moment before brightly smiling at him, “Pleasure to meet you, Damon.”

Damon just stares at him for a moment, “Y/N lives here with me. So if I find you in her room later I will kill you,” He threatens and then shoots him a fake smile, “Other than that, enjoy the party.”

My eyes practically fly out of my head as I watch Damon’s retreating figure leave the room and I quickly turn back to Alastair to apologize.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s good he’s protective over you,” He smiles at me and reaches out his hand for me to take, “Want to get a drink?”

“Oh definitely,” I sigh dramatically as I put my hand in his.

We start walking but I catch Alastair and a blonde guy staring at each other as we walk by him. I smirk to myself and then look up to my friend with a raised eyebrow.

“Not a word,” He laughs out.

“I didn’t say anything!”

Alastair rolls his eyes as we approach the refreshments table and he hands me a bottle of water and I shoot him a questioning look.

“We’re so not drinking whatever is in that punch. Who knows if someone spiked it with something? Water is a safe choice,” I begin to laugh thinking he’s joking but at the serious look on my friend’s face I stop.

“A little worried are you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little cautious,” He opens up my bottle of water for me and smiles, “Also what’s with the text I got from your blonde friend this afternoon about you having a birthday party?”

I groan loudly and I can hear Alastair laugh, “How did she even get your number?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I’d like to know as well,” He looks down at me for a moment then frowns, “You really didn’t tell anyone about your birthday?”

I just shrug, “I told Damon. But other than that no. I don’t celebrate it, and whatever Caroline is planning you definitely don’t have to come.”

Alastair shakes his head defiantly, “Oh you bet your ass I’ll be there. Going to get you a pretty present with a bow and everything.”

I put my head in my hands and sighed, “I hate you.”

Alastair laughs and takes my hands away from my face, “You love me and now you’re going to dance with me.”

I’m surprised at the strength of my friend as he leads me to the dance floor that's filled with teens dancing and grinding together.

“You sure you don’t want to go and find that blonde guy,” I yell to him over the music and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re stuck with me, babe. I’m not going anywhere”

—-

“Call me if you need anything alright,” Alastair says to me as I walk him to his car. After dancing for about an hour the party started to die down when people couldn’t find the hostess or the birthday girl.

“I’m going to see you tomorrow at work. I think I’ll be fine until then,” I smile at him as he gets into his car.

“I know, just making sure you know you can call me for anything,” He says through his open window as he starts his car.

“I know.”

“Ok, I’ll wait for you to get back inside before leaving,” He nods towards the front door.

“Ok, bye,” I wave to him and start walking to the front door, I turn to look over my shoulder and find that he hasn’t taken his focus off me for a second it makes me unnerved but I shake it off and open the front door.

As soon as I step a foot inside I hear the squealing of tires and I turn to see Alastair peeling out of the driveway. Guess someone’s in a rush.

I walk into the living room and sigh as I see the damage that was done by the hordes of kids. Bottles and trash line the walls as streamers and the decorations we had worked so hard to put up are lying all around the floor. I start to walk down the steps to start picking up when a loud bang comes from upstairs.

I frown as I start walking towards the stairs, but as soon as I hear another loud bang I start running. I find myself in front of Damon’s bedroom as I watch the vampire throw and break anything he can get his hands on. I call out to him but he seems to be in his own world of destruction right now. I start to approach him like someone would a rabid animal and I freeze as he turns to look at me. Dark veins appear under his eyes as he glares at me. He starts walking towards me and I put up my hands.

“Damon, what’s wrong? What happened,” He gets closer and I’m about to run off but he grabs me. I shriek escapes my mouth before I realize what he's doing. He's hugging me.

“Damon? What’s wrong,” I slowly wrap my hands around his waist as he holds me tighter. Almost tight enough to bruise, “What happened?”Damon is quiet for a moment before he whispers out a growl, “Stefan.”

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 26 days ago

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Ludos Imperiales II

Summary: Princess!Reader makes a deal with the Emperor to try and save her mates.

Content Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore, Gladiator Tournament, Physical Abuse.

Part One

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

I can’t breathe. The world spins in dizzying swirls around me. Mates.

Not one.

Not two.

Three!

All of them enemies of the Empire. Rebels scheduled for execution. Fate has always been a cruel bastard in all matters concerning me, but this feels like a personal attack on my existence. Someone in the Celestial Plain is laughing at this twisted attempt of a joke. How could I be so close to happiness and be forced to sit here and watch it be ripped from me one blood splatter at a time?

The Game Maker starts speaking again, his voice booming across the arena. I can’t make out any of the words; they’re all muddled together in my ears. This cannot be happening to me! It’s not fair! I’ve been the perfect daughter, even when it shattered me; I was a model student; I’ve upheld the law to the very letter; I make weekly sacrifices to the Mother; I built my own lararium to offer nightly prayers to the gods. I have been devought and loyal to both the gods and the Empire and this is the thanks I get?

I can’t tear my eyes away from where the three of them stand in the center of the Pit, waiting for the gates to open again. The violet eyed one, Rhysand-- gods even his name is pretty--won’t stop staring at my Father, challenging him to speak, to fight, to do something other than sit there like a coward while someone else kills for him.

My Father must understand the challenge in that gaze, because he finally stands and goes to the edge of the booth, weathered hands splayed out against the worn stones bearing a flag with his crest embroidered upon it. “Citizens of the Empire!”

The crowd gives a raucous shout.

I simply scoot a little closer to Brannagh to be able to see around Father.

My movements do not break the silent battle happening with Rhysand, but it does draw the eye of Azriel, who’s bloodied head tilts to the side quizzically as he takes me in. I feel a blush creep its way up my cheeks, the booth suddenly too hot as I try to meet his gaze. That hazel gaze bears an intensity that keeps me in place, but I cannot help but feel like I’ve been stripped bare, as if he can see straight into my chest, where my heart still pounds an uneven beat.

“Before you stands that which threatens our peace, our security, and most importantly the prosperity that our people hold so dear.”

The tall one, Cassian frowns at that, but Rhysand grins, as if he has won whatever silent battle he’s been having with my Father. He tips his head back and bellows, so that not a single soul here misses it, “There is no prosperity or peace in the Empire! There is only enslavement and death!”

The boos that had started coming from the crowd die, as if someone had collectively cut off their air supply.

The muscles in my Father’s back tighten as he realizes what is happening.

“Outside these walls we all starve! Supplies to every corner of the Empire have dwindled to single bags of grain, meant only to feed the soldiers that terrorize us in every corner of the world. You do not hear from your families in the far reaches because your mail is censored. Your loved ones have been dragged from their beds and crucified without trial. The only prosperity in this Empire is for Hybern himself.”

I finally tear my gaze away from Azriel’s silent study to look at Amarantha for confirmation that it is true.

“You should have slit his throat on the battlefield,” Dagdan snarls in her direction.

The power seeping from my fingers tears a hole through my skirts, singing across my thighs. The errant strand only hidden by the way I keep the fabric bunched in my hands. I do not allow myself to wince against the sting and give myself away.

“Those were not my orders!” Amarantha snarls, her teeth flashing as she stands. Her slaves jump out of her way, cowering against each other for safety. “Your Highness, silence him before he incites a riot!”

No! No! No! This can’t be happening to me! Not again. It is like watching my Mother be taken away all over again. I had just stood there. Unable to cry or scream or fight. I could only watch. That was what she trained me to do. She had even nodded her approval to my stillness as they’d dragged her away, as if it had been right. None of it was right. None of this was right!

“Your Master will tell you pretty stories but we are all his slaves in the end. Illyria has had enough! We will not sit by and let our women and children starve! If that makes us rebels and traitors to the crown, so be it! But what would you do if it was your children in the streets? Your wives being carted off to service foreign elites? Your sons forced to kill and die for an Empire that can’t even feed you?” Rhysand screams.

My Father, silently, motions to one of his Praetorians, a crossbow already swinging from the clip at his back.

The pounding of my heart in my ears will swallow me. Everything in the world slows and narrows into the motion of an arrow being fit into the crossbow.

Move! Move! Move! A dark ether of my power slithers up my wrists, catching Brannagh’s attention. She must make some snide remark about it, because I, distantly, see her lips move but no sound ever reaches my ears. I have to stop this. I have to do something!

I’m on my feet without conscious thought of what I’m doing. “Father, wait!” My hands reach for him, the sizzle of pain as my power skitters across his skin enough to make him turn and face me. I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I’m saying, the words spew as if they have a mind of their own.

“If you kill him now like this you will incite a riot!”

His face twists, a snarl slipping past his clenched teeth. I have royally pissed him off, disgraced him here in front of his Inner Circle, where they watch from nearby booths. The thought would usually send me cowering like a dog with its tail between its legs, but the fear I feel for him is nothing against the fear I feel for them. The thing that links our souls together burns and rattles beneath my rib cage, needing to defend, to fight.

“Call off your guard!” I hiss, reaching out a hand and letting that dark power that lives inside me show. I’ll strike him dead if he so much as moves a finger towards the trigger. “Let us be diplomatic about this.”

“Who are you,” Father snarls, taking an advancing step towards me. The booth shakes as his own dark power rises to meet mine. “To challenge me, child?!”

I hold my ground, even though my body trembles. It is only the dutiful teachings of my Mother that keep my chin up instead of bowing it to my chest as every muscle screams for me to do. “I am not challenging you, I am trying to think about our people.”

I clench my fists again, dimming my power in feigned submission. “Go about this a different way. Show the people that ruthlessness is not always the answer to our nation’s problems.”

“Are you suggesting I spare an enemy?” Father snarls.

I honestly don’t know what my plan is here. I’m just throwing things against the wall and hoping something, anything, sticks, otherwise my only option is to fling myself down into the Pit and hope the power thrumming in my veins is enough to save my mates.

“No,” if I am to keep all of our heads, I must be crafty. I must play the games my Father plays. My gaze flicks to where Amarantha’s slaves remain huddled together, a desperate thought forming in my head. My stomach turns at the mere idea, but if it can save them…?

“You mean to entertain the people and quell all possible chances of further rebellion, but we have seen time and time again that no execution or crucifixion has done that. We merely make martyr after martyr. We encourage others to take up the cause.”

“Let them fight,” I’m going to be sick! It feels like there’s a knot forming in my chest. “And if they survive, let them live, let them be gladiators.” It’s unthinkable, it puts them in danger time and time again. “The betting will be astronomical. The people will return time and time again in hopes of seeing them fall. That money can provide support to the edges of the Empire. Prove him wrong by sending extra aid to those outside our walls.”

To his credit, my Father does listen to me ramble. The Mother has smiled on me for once, if he had been in one of his fits today he would have had Amarantha kill me where I stood. It is a miracle the Praetorian didn’t take me out for wielding so close to him in the first place.

“And you would have them what? Live in the slave quarters where they can incite a riot with all the dregs?” Amarantha hisses.

I’ll lose him if I let her forked tongue keep whispering in his ear. I am not blind, I know that she has more favor with him than I ever have. “No. Leaving them free to whisper with the other gladiators would be a mistake. Let someone claim responsibility for them.”

The plan forms in my mind as I speak. I don’t like it. I’m not sure that it’ll even work, but I have to try and save them. I cannot let them die while I stand here uselessly watching as I did with my Mother. I will never be useless or silent again. “Give them to me.”

Brannagh chokes on her wine behind me.

Amarantha’s jaw actually drops in shock.

“I will take responsibility for them. They will be monitored by my guard. To our people it will look like you mean to humiliate three great warriors, by shackling them to me. It is no secret what our people think of me.”

Dagdan’s snort is proof enough how weak I look in the eyes of our people. I am nothing but a sheltered, pampered princess to them. Up until today they didn’t even know that I’d inherited my Father’s powers. Good, let them all think me weak and useless and meek, they will never know the claws and fangs that hide beneath my skin until it is too late. Father included.

“She is not strong enough to keep them in check,” Amarantha hisses. “If you are to do it, give them to me.”

I barely reign in my powers, barely keep my teeth behind my lips. They are mine and I will be damned before I let her put her grubby little paws on them!

“You may monitor them as often or as random as you wish, Father,” I speak over her instead, fighting to keep his attention. “I will move back into the Palace. I will sit in every meeting. I…” There is one sure thing that will guarantee his approval of this awful plan of mine. “I will marry whoever you choose for me.”

His dark brows raise in surprise. “And what would prompt this sudden loyalty to me, child?”

I raise my chin. “I have sat too long in the dark, and I could not see it until…” I have already bartered my soul, what will some more empty words mean in the end? “I could not see it until you removed that traitor and her poisoned tongue from the house. I see it now. I have failed our people and I mean to make it right.”

He flicks his gaze over his shoulder, down into the Pit. “The gorsian stone should keep Rhysand in line. And with enough guards, you might be able to keep them locked up. If they should survive the fight.”

“Sometimes death is a mercy,” I say, the words tasting like bile.

He takes a step closer, so we’re nearly nose to nose. “And if you fail to keep them in line, it will be you that dies in this arena, do you understand?”

Better me than them.

“You cannot be serious, Your Highness!” Amarantha squeaks, her voice shrill.

I nod, trying not to gloat in my victory over her. “I understand.”

Father grins, pleased with himself as he snags my hand and brings me back into view of the arena. “Please forgive the delay, the Princess and I were just discussing what our guests had to say about the state of our Empire.”

I feel three sets of eyes settle on me like a brand. The bond, still so new and raw in my chest, feels like chains rattling against my ribcage. I cannot tell if it is their anxiety or my own.

“Let it be known that this Empire is a democracy, and that I, as your Emperor, care about the state of affairs that all of our people live in.”

I try to meet the gaze of the senators and highly decorated soldiers sitting in the booths that line the upper ring of the arena. These will be the most upset by the news. The next ring of wealthy merchants and shopkeepers, tradesmen and fleet keeps will be the ones that take what they hear here back to the streets. Word will spread. The people will know what happened here, how the Emperor suddenly decided to care about them. It will be a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I try to not look down at the Pit; try not to think about the life I’m condemning them to.

“Our beloved Princess is very concerned about your well-being,” Father continues and there’s a collective cheer from the lower levels. “And so, we have decided not to execute these rebels today.”

The tone immediately shifts to one of confusion.

“They will compete as gladiators. Should they prove resourceful enough to survive, they will be branded as gladiators, and sponsored by our Princess.” Great, not only do they have to survive the damned arena, they have to survive any threats from other gladiators who will seek to take out well-sponsored competition.

Even from our vantage point I hear Cassian curse in disbelief.

“She has so graciously decided that all their winnings will be sent to any hurting corners of the Empire, should there be any to be found.”

The crowd takes a moment to process what he says. It even takes me a minute to comprehend the last part. He’d really send all the money that I’d earn as their sponsor to the poor? That’s a hefty bit of charity, even for him. There has to be some sort of catch?

“So, let these males fight! Let’s see how far they are willing to go for their people.”

There it is. They could choose to sit down and die in the arena, making themselves martyrs as Amarantha thinks they intended, and then, instead, they would look like they were not willing to make sacrifices for their people. If they fought, competed for whatever earnings were bet on them, then they would be heroes. A symbol of strength only the great Emperor Hybern could make. Father really is the best at these political games.

The crowd roars as trumpets blow three times.

Father motions me back to our seats.

“You don’t really think they can win, do you, cousin?” Dagdan questions.

The ground shakes as a giant strolls out of the tunnels. The creature is so large he has to bend over nearly double to fit. When he stands to his full height, his bald head is practically even with the edge of our booth. Terrible scars crisscross over his body like spiderwebs. Hybern went to war first with the land of Giants, the war had lasted decades. My Grandfather had taken many giants as slaves and forced them to kill each other in this arena. Some gladiators were able to earn their freedom, but the devastation that the Giants had wrought on our people made my Grandfather declare that no Giant could ever be made free. The poor creature had probably been chained here, fighting in the Pit long before I was even born.

“They survived Amarantha,” I retort.

The General bristles. “I thought you didn’t place bets on the first day?”

I reach for another glass of wine, trying to settle my nerves. “There’s a first time for everything.” Perhaps making an enemy out of her is unwise, but the bond chafes against my ribcage at the thought of her being anywhere near any of them. Better to keep her attention on me than on them.

Another horn blows, prompting the giant to move and I hold my breath as he reaches a meaty hand down to grab one of the Illyrians. The males scatter, Cassian going into a roll between the Giant’s legs, using the blind spot to his advantage while Rhysand drags Azriel out of the way with an arm around his waist. He’s practically carrying Azriel now, who’s broken wings seem to be getting heavier by the minute.

Cassian roars as he stretches out a hand, a wave of red tinted energy blasting from his palm. The arch or power slams into the Giant’s calf, blasting away a chunk of skin and muscle, splattering blood across the nearest wall.

The Giant roars as he falls to one knee.

Cassian sprints behind him, out of reach of the hand that comes sweeping down at him. This time, he’s the distraction as Rhysand uses the hand not holding Azriel upright to unleash a blast of dark, obsidian power.

My own magic flares in response. It is a darkness so like my own, the sight of it a siren call that has me leaning forward in my seat. If he can unleash a blast powerful enough to leave a gash across the Giant’s bare chest with those gorsian chains around his neck, how much damage can he do without it?

The Giant’s cries of pain echo throughout the amphitheater; using the distraction, Cassian continues to blast away at it’s leg while Rhys throws blow after blow at it’s chest. They fair far better than I anticipated they would, but I know better than to let hope get the better of me. It is far too easily ripped away in this arena.

As if on cue, the gates open again and a pack of wargs come sprinting into the arena.

The crowd erupts in cheers, and my heart once again thunders in my chest. What have I done? It takes all my training to not start chewing on my thumbnail. How am I supposed to save them from this?

Amarantha claps gleefully as one of the wargs breaks away from the pack to lunge straight for Azriel’s throat.

No! No! No- Azriel raises a scarred hand to blast the beast backward with a wave of blue tinted magic. There isn’t enough time to sigh in relief, not as the rest of the pack splits in two, one circling Rhysand and Azriel, the other taking a shot at the Giant. Those rows of razor sharp and needle thin teeth sink into the Giant’s already bleeding leg, momentarily distracting it as it swings wildly around the arena, arms pinwheeling as it fights to balance on one leg while the other flails in an attempt to shake the beasts off.

“They’re not supposed to attack the Giant!” Brannagh whines.

I gulp down my wine, hoping it will push the wave of nausea that rolls through me down. I’ve signed their death warrants. I’ve gotten my mates killed.

Cassian, in the chaos, has managed to find half of a spear, the blade rusted from the recent rain, but he hurls it with acute precision nonetheless, piercing through the oddly shaped skull of a warg snapping at Azriel’s wings.

Rhysand and Azriel have moved to stand back to back, their varying shades of magic weaving between their fingers as they prepare to strike the snapping beasts that circle them.

The Giant topples over as the three wargs held tight to it’s wounded calf find a nerve. There’s not enough room in the arena to let him fall without incident. The poor creature topples right into the wall opposite us, knocking away a section of stone and nearly dragging a Senator and his mistress into the Pit.

The Praetorians launch from our booth to aid the screaming couple.

It might have been funny under different circumstances, but I cannot peel my eyes away from my mates as the blast beast after beast away with their magic. Even wounded, even stunted by the chains, they are the most powerful wielders I’ve ever seen. Even if Cassian’s and Azriel’s magic sprays with less precision than usual without the siphons Illyrians are known for, every blow is calculated. They do not miss. Warg after warg falls, their leathery skin blistered or blasted away from multiple blows. Even wounded, the males remain in perfect sync, filling in any gaps the other might lack. They manage to kill five of the eight beasts, the other three still mercilessly tearing through the Giant’s leg, even as the guards try to push him off the wall.

Brannagh laughs at the tears that fall from the Giant’s eyes as he swats uselessly at the beasts. No matter how many times his massive fists slams against them, they will not let go. His blood runs like a river through the center of the Pit.

Many of the crowd laugh too.

These are my people? This is what I am to inherit? This misery and suffering and apathy towards the suffering of others? We are monsters!

As soon as I can get my mates out of this godsforsaken Pit, I will find a way to get them far, far away from this place, where it can never hurt them again. And then, when I know they are safe, I will make sure that this place burns.

Rhysand seems to take pity on his opponent, as he steps away from Azriel’s back to blast one of the remaining wargs off the Giant’s calf. From the distance across the arena, the blow is not a killing one, and aggravated, the warg turns its attack to Rhysand.

My breath hitches in my throat as he lowers himself into a crouch, hands splaying in the damp earth. There is a sword a couple feet from him, if he runs, he might make it there first. But he doesn’t run, he waits until the beast gets close before hurling dust in it’s eyes. While it’s distracted, a rope of star studded magic unfurls from his palm and wraps around the beast’s throat. Instead of killing it, he hurls it back at the others, knocking all of them free from the Giant’s leg.

The crowd boos.

My heart clenches in my chest. He could have let them end this fight now, could have let those beasts tear clean through the Giant’s leg and won by default, but he didn’t. He chose to fight fair, to do the dirty work himself.

The three beasts turn on him as he sprints for the sword. There’s just enough time for him to get a firm grip on the hilt before the first lunges, its claws tearing through his forearm as he fights to get the angle he needs to win. Blood splatters, those handsome features twisting in pain as he adjusts his stance. Cassian runs towards him, but he won’t make it in time.

There’s no more wine to distract me, I’ve fully bitten through my lip now. Please if there are any gods left to hear me, don’t let him die here!

Rhysand moves with the grace of a well-practiced swordsman, each step flowing into the next like a dance as he cleaves through one beast's head, and severs the paw of a second. In mere seconds, he manages to dispatch the rest, leaving the mangled bodies at his feet. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath and under different circumstances I might have been too distracted by his beauty to notice the Giant move.

Rhysand might have been the better male, but that didn’t save him from the Giant’s hand as it swatted him across the battlefield like he was a pesky fly. I bite deeper through my lip to keep back a scream as his body bounces across the muddy floor until he meets a wall.

Cassian and Azriel roar in outrage and the tether that sits in my chest rattles so hard against my rib cage I think it might rip right out of me. This can’t be happening!

The Giant rises on shaking legs, then falls back onto its knees, using its meaty fists to bash against the arena floor, in what looks like the world’s deadliest game of Whack-A-Mole. Red and blue magic flashes across the arena as the Illyrian’s throw blow after blow, leaving bleeding gashes in the Giant’s fist. Across the arena, Rhysand rolls onto his back, forehead covered in blood as he struggles to get upright. He’s alive at least. Barely. But alive.

I vow to the Mother and any other god that can hear me that if they survive the fight I will find somewhere safe for them. I will do whatever it takes to keep them out of this arena for good.

“They are persistent, I’ll give them that,” Dagdan muses.

I feel rather than see my Father’s frown as he takes in all the chaos with the experience of a seasoned strategist. I know that he is calculating their odds, mapping out every possible outcome. I wonder if Cassian launching into the air, wings beating so hard to get him airborne that I feel a gust of hot air on my face, was part of his calculations? If he could have foreseen the blast of energy Cassian’s hurls into the Giant’s eyes, blinding him?

The Giant abandons his attempts at smashing them to grab at his eyes, large hands clawing at his sizzling flesh. The whole arena can smell burnt skin, but Cassian doesn’t let up, he aims blow after blow at the Giant’s head, until he finally falls over backwards, neck slamming hard against the already broken stone.

I look away, stomach in my throat as the resounding crack fills the amphitheater.

The crowd roars in disbelief as Cassian tucks in his wings and descends back into the Pit. He hits the ground running, footfalls heavy in the mud as he rushes to Rhysand’s side. Azriel is not far behind him. With their combined strength, they manage to get Rhysand back on his feet.

I pinch myself to make sure I’m awake. They’re alive!

Father stands and makes his way to the edge of the booth again. “For whatever reason, the Goddess has smiled upon you three today! Today, you will live. Let us hope you remain in Her favor.” He doesn’t sound super thrilled by the prospect as he turns his back to the crowd, slate gray eyes pinched as they fall to me.

“Walk with me.”

I stand, trying to keep my singed skirts in my hands so he cannot see the damage I’d done. Or the blood from my palms. If he suspects I was at all nervous for the outcome, I could ruin everything. I must keep my composure.

And not run down the stairs to the gates and throw myself at my mates like every fiber of my being screams at me to do.

The guards follow as we exit the booth. In moments there will be chaos as beings scatter to find the Games Keepers and collect their winnings, or pay their debts, but for a moment, the crowd lingers in their seats, watching as the Illyrians are led out of the Pit.

“You embarrassed us today,” he hisses once we’re out of Amarantha’s earshot. The anger in his tone is enough to make me try and take a step away from him, but he throws an arm around my shoulders to keep me against his side. To any onlookers, we are just father and daughter having a chat. His voice is low enough that no one will hear the threats he hisses in my ear.

“You hide away in the River House for months, mourning a traitor who was plotting to overthrow me and now you make a spectacle of yourself! I should have you cast out into the streets!”

My only way out is to placate him. “I am sorry, Father.”

“Sorry,” he snarls, fingers digging tight enough into my shoulder to bruise. “Your apologies mean nothing! I swear, if you do not do everything you promised to do today, I will throw you into this arena! And I will use your own advice to keep you alive long enough to ensure you have a couple matches to prolong your suffering.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I meant what I said, Father.” Mostly. Perhaps I can secure passage for all of us out of here and we never have to think about the Empire again. The more I think about it, the more pleased I am with the idea. Yes, I just need to make it look like I am taking them as slaves, and once we’re out from the watchful eye of my Father, we can all run far, far away. Maybe I am more clever than I thought.

He leads us down the steps to a door that will eventually lead us to the gladiator cages and a guard swings open the heavy iron for us. Once we’re out from under the eye of the people, the rough stone walls closing in tight--a means to ensure none of the larger gladiators can make a run for the door and escape--he releases his grip on me.

Torches line the walls casting his face in near shadow as he pauses at the bottom of a second, smaller, set of stairs. I shiver despite myself as the door slams shut, sealing me in. I suppose at this point I should be prepared, but I’m not, and when his open hand slams across my cheek I lose my balance and slip down the last two steps of the staircase.

“Don’t ever question me again!” He hisses.

The guards pretend to not notice, as they always have.

I grit my teeth against the ringing in my ears, against the hot tears that threaten to escape me, focusing instead on carefully getting back on my feet. Stay down too long he’ll kick in my ribs like he used to when I was a child. Get up too fast and he’ll assume he hadn’t hit me hard enough. I put over emphasis into finding a handhold in the wall, making sure I keep my stinging cheek against my shoulder. The tremor in my hands is not feigned fear, I’ve been terrified of him my entire life, but I do exaggerate it just as my Mother taught me.

“Spoiled brat!” He grumbles as he stalks forward into the tunnel. “I coddled you too much.”

I glare at his back once I’m sure he’s no longer looking at me. I hate him! I’ve hated him my entire fucking life. He’s ruined everything. Taken everything from me. Everything I’d ever loved he’d wiped off the face of the earth, all because I had the misfortune of being a female. All because he couldn’t have a precious son.

I grit my teeth so hard they hurt as I brush my skirts off and follow after him. I will be glad when I am finally out of his sight. Far, far away from this stupid Empire. At least I have mates; someone out in this Mother forsaken world who will care about me; who won’t hate me just for existing. At least there is one thing he can’t ruin for me.

I am too distracted with my thoughts to note the paths we take. I distantly hear the sound of injured men groaning, catch a whiff of filth and animal waste, but it’s all a blur. This will all be a bad dream soon. Soon I will have my mates and I will never have to deal with him again. I can be happy. I will be happy.

By the time he finally stops walking, I’ve schooled my features into a perfect mask; have brushed a few loose strands of hair in front of my face to hide the red mark across my cheek. He will suspect nothing until it is too late. Then he can have his precious Empire. It will be the only thing left he can control.

A guard opens what looks like a cage door, the iron old and rusted, and the guards that have been trailing behind us step in first.

“Against the wall!” They bark.

There’s no light in the cell, just the flickering of the torch on the wall behind us. I don’t know what to expect.

“Fuck you, Imperial Pig!” Cassian.

I bite my tongue to keep back the grin that threatens to escape me, my mask slipping. He’s not so hurt that he can’t put up a fight. The thought warms something in my chest. Headstrong, stubborn, if the sound of scuffling coming from inside the dark cell is anything to go by, and sarcastic--everything I need to counter my reserved nature. I need that energy. I need him. The surety of that makes me square my shoulders.

“Easy, Cass.” Rhysand. His voice is smooth as silk, even if the words are a little slurred. “We don’t want trouble.”

“The fuck we don’t!” Cassian shouts. “I’m no one’s fucking pet!”

The guard at the door, once sure the others inside are secure, steps away to grab the torch off its perch in the hallway, and sets it into an old rung on the inside of the cell, bathing the room in its soft glow.

Father steps in first.

For a moment, I hesitate, heart in my throat. I need them. I need that strength I saw in the arena. Need that fire Cassian spews. The surety that Rhysand carries himself with. I need them. And if I show any sign of that, they're dead.

The guard, now back at the door, eyes me quizzically.

I draw a shaky breath and school my features back into a perfectly bored mask.

I can do this.

I will do this.

I won’t let Hybern take anything else from me, no matter the games I have to play.

I tell it to myself over and over as I step into the cell.

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

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interstellarflare · 8 months ago

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A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART TWO-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. I would also like to apologise for the previous tag list not working! It has been fixed now! Gif by @fifty5hades

|PART ONE|

The horses had been restless ever since you had arrived in town. Lady Worthington, Elizabeth and Mary had been traversing between multiple shops for hours now, the three of them making multiple trips back to stuff every inch of the carriage full of boxes and bags that contained every expensive item of clothing imaginable.

The horses flinched every time the carriage doors slammed closed, their heads lifting upward as they were startled by the harsh sound. But after a few gentle pats and sweetly whispered words, the two black geldings calmed down and went back to their idling. You released a deep sigh, gently ruffling the horses’ mane as you people watched. Lords and Lady’s strolled by, some of them sneering at your dirty and slightly big dress, but you didn’t mind. You never had minded.

Sure, these clothes weren’t kept in line with their usual standard upkeep, but it was all that you had. Clothes were better than none at all. You had been so caught up tending to the horses, that you hadn’t noticed the figure creeping up behind you along the cobblestones. You jumped as the culprit tickled your sides, releasing a loud shriek as you spun around to meet the face of a young girl you knew all too well.

“Oh god, Eloise! Don’t do that!” You cried, the young Bridgerton cackling at your fright. She smiled, lightly punching your shoulder as she cried “Oh come on, this is the first time I have seen you in weeks! Does that wicked woman lock you up in a tower or something?”

“She might as well…” You replied sharply, gripping the harness of the horse closest to you “I haven’t seen the sun in days.”

“Don’t you joke about that, you know I will actually have my brothers come and save you from that hell” Eloise teased, pointing her finger at you with a stern expression. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as a small yet grateful smile graced your lips.

Eloise Bridgerton, the fifth eldest in the Bridgerton family, had figured out who you were the first moment she had met you. She was smart and witty, and had instantly put two and two together, and had no problem reminding you whenever she ran into you on the street.

The daughter of one of the most prominent Lords on the ton, suddenly vanishes after her father’s unfortunate and sudden death, running away due to the grief and sadness at the loss of her parents. Then not two days later, a new maid is hired. The ton wasn’t the biggest fan of the Worthington family, according to Eloise. The horror stories she had heard from Daphne and her brothers were more or less disturbing to say the least. She had never met your stepsisters, and prayed that she never would, but of course with the latest season coming up, that might be a little hard.

You turned to face Eloise fully, leaning back slightly as the horse’s head chased after your attention, obscuring your view slightly. “And just what are you doing in town? I thought you would have been at home preparing for Lady Danbury’s ball this evening?”

Eloise groaned loudly, slumping against the side of the carriage with a loud thump. You laughed softly at her behaviour, watching as she rolled her eyes and turned her gaze skyward. “Though I so wish that I could stay at home and read the night away, my mother has made it clear that I am to find something nice to wear for this evening. I am being chaperoned by my brother-“

“Oh?” You asked teasingly, chuckling at the glare that formed on her face “and which brother do you have the pleasure of accompanying you tonight?”

“Oh, you are so funny…” Eloise grumbled, crossing her arms over her front with a huff “…I am being chaperoned right now! ‘So that I may not run away’, according to Anthony.”

Your laughter echoed throughout the street, as Eloise rushed forward and begged you to keep quiet. You held your stomach and wiped a stray tear from your eye, releasing the horse’s harness as you did so. “Oh Eloise, I will say I do not envy you-“

“Oh but I envy you! But remember you used to be a part of this life”

“The only ball I went to was when I was a child, and even then, I don’t remember that much of it”.

Eloise scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “To be blessed with such fortune as you have, though I suppose being related to Lady Worthington can be accustomed to being related to a toad-“

“Shhhhhhh!” You hushed, pressing a finger to your lips as Eloise smirked “Don’t say such things out loud! They could be back any minute-“

“Oh, I don’t care much. That woman is despicable-“

You watched her eyes widen, her words dying out as a small squeak replaced her sentence. Focused on the space behind you, you turned quickly and froze, suddenly feeling rather small and very aware of your current dress.

Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount himself stood before you. He stood tall, hands clasped together behind his back as his deep brown eyes flickered between the two of you. You suddenly felt self-conscious the longer he stared at you, but you were the first to look away as you bowed your head, and once again returned to tending the horses.

“Must you always be difficult, dear sister” The Viscount spoke sarcastically, a small huff escaping him as he clenched his jaw in annoyance. You heard Eloise groan, “Must you always insist on stopping and chatting with every Lord you see? Surely it gets rather tiring”.

“It is polite, Eloise…” he spoke through gritted teeth “need I remind you that your prospects this season rely on me helping you to find a suitable husband-“

“Ah yes, because Daphne’s season went so unbelievably well. Tell me dear brother, how was it that Lord Berbrooke became our dear sister’s only suitor for some time, hm? Who, pray tell, was responsible for that match, until our lovely Daphne married the Duke of Hastings?”

The scowl that formed on the Viscount’s face caused an unpleasant shiver to run down your spine, but you couldn’t help but chuckle softly as Eloise stuck out her tongue in retaliation to her brother’s disapproving look.

You turned your gaze upward and met the Viscount’s eyes. He was looking you over, his scowl turning into a gentle smile as he sighed heavily. “You’ll have to forgive my sister, unfortunately she seems to forget her manners when in public” he spoke informatively, sneering at Eloise as she rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath.

You shrugged your shoulders, “There’s nothing to forgive, my Lord. I am well acquainted with your sister’s antics I’m afraid-“

“Don’t you dare take his side Y/n!” Eloise screamed, stomping her foot like and annoyed child. You laughed a reply, noticing the man beside you chuckling alongside you “We both know you’re not the biggest fan of society Eloise, I am simply stating fact-“

“I never thought you would betray me like this…how could you” She spoke softly, clutching her chest in mock-hurt as she dramatically slid down the side of the carriage, coming to rest on the step below the door. You heard the Viscount laugh, “Perhaps Miss Y/n here as a point. You will have to be on your best behaviour tonight, so I suggest that perhaps you should start practicing your etiquette before then-“

“You are both the worst” Eloise grumbled, standing up from the carriage step and slowly walking towards the store front before her. “If anyone needs me, I will be inside. The two of you can gossip about me at your own leisure while I suffer numerous dress-fittings inside” She whined, opening the door and disappearing inside.

You once again turned your attention back to the Viscount, looking up at him shyly as you fiddled with your hands in front of you. “Your sister does mean well, you know. Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I am lucky to have a friend like her, especially at my status.”

He smiled at your words, his eyes meeting yours and softening on your form. You felt nervous under his gaze, with how he was looking at you with such interest. No Lord had ever looked at you like this, nor even recognised your presence. It was nice.

“I know she has the best intentions, yet it is the way that she goes about them that sometimes hinders her reputation” He replied, sighing heavily as he watched you intently for your reply. You shrugged “Well, she is a part of one of the most famous and revered families on the ton, she is constantly under the public’s watchful eye. What is the harm of having some freedoms here and there?”.

Your question was innocent enough, but you noticed the Viscount’s brow furrow as he thought on your words. His gaze fell to the cobblestones in contemplation, before returning to your figure with a mischievous smile. “You certainly know a lot of the ton. Tell me, how do you know so much?”.

Your eyes widened and a small blush crept onto your cheeks as you stuttered, “W-Well, Lady Worthington and her daughters discuss these sorts of matters quite openly-“

“Wait, Lady Worthington?” he asked, his eyes suddenly wide with what you could only assume was fear. You eyed the Viscount suspiciously, tilting your head to the side as you spoke. “Yes?...What of them?”

“Oh no, nothing. It has only now just dawned on me that you are the same Y/n that Colin mentioned when he returned from the Worthington household after calling on Miss Elizabeth, and the same Y/n that Eloise calls a friend. I feel rather stupid for not realising it until now.”

A smile formed on your lips as you dismissed his revelation, “Well, I’m not the most memorable person around, I am merely a maid-“

“A maid who has the ear of my sister…and now mine I suppose.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your cheeks once again flushing a bright red as you turned to face him. “You’re…you’re not ashamed to be speaking so openly with me?” you asked him softly, your eyes wide with shock as you waited anxiously for his reply.

The Viscount shook his head, lightly lifting his shoulders as he hummed. “Should I be? Anyone who works for Lady Worthington has my sympathies.”

Perhaps he would be ashamed, if he knew who you really were.

You were left speechless, unsure of how to reply to his words as your mouth fell open and closed. Before you could think of a reply, the store door burst open to reveal Eloise, who now looked incredibly pale and distraught. Both you and the Viscount shared a look of confusion.

“Are you alright Eloise?” You asked cautiously. She looked between you and her brother, breathing deeply in a panic.

“My dear brother, if you wish to keep your marriage prospects hidden until the ball tonight…I suggest we run” Eloise replied breathlessly, rushing over to her brother and taking his arm in hers.

“What are you talking about-“

“Oh for the love of god, Lady Worthington and her daughters are inside! We should run, now!”

Your eyes met Eloise’s, and then those of her brother who were just as wide, perhaps even more terrified. Without thinking, your shoved both Eloise and the Viscount down the street, laughing as you did so. “Go! Don’t become trapped as I have!”

The Viscount’s laughter caused your heart to soar, as he waved a quick goodbye while Eloise dragged him away and around the corner, right on time as Lady Worthington, Mary and Elizabeth stormed out of the store in a huff. You returned to stand by the horses, trying desperately to contain your laughter as the three of them stumbled towards the carriage, boxes in hand, and struggling to squeeze into the already overstuffed carriage.

“I suppose you found everything you were after, my lady?” You replied quickly, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from chuckling, “should we perhaps return home?”

Lady Worthington’s icy gaze settled on your form, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “Did I tell you to speak? I think not. Just go, we have a lot to do before the ball.”

Tag List:

@infectedbypedropascal @erysione @spookystitchery @scoopsahoyspidey

@misscaller06 @slayqueenizzy @everythingmarveltopgun @idek-what-to-put

@everythingbagel00 @thecraziestcrayon @bollzinurmouth @reejero

@pinkcat246 @ambitions-like-ribbons @jackierose902109 @ladybirdbeetle7

@sweetsourpus @in-deans-arms @blackthorngirl @kee-0-kee

@sometimesminsan @prawntoastsworld @scoopsahoyspidey @darkness-falls-xo

@reallysparklychaos @hottie-bishop-belova @riptidewaters @jay-being-weird

@khhhhjj @golden-girasol @linnygirl09 @xoxonoire @stanmixtapes

@freyagallileaevans @gracielou0518 @judig92 @rafaaoli @queenslandlover-93

@esquivelbianca @fanfictioncafe @hjgdhghoe @sillynilly27

@this-gave-pidgeon-further-shock

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #jonathan bailey

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

Text

Bound to happen || Billy the Kid x reader

Summary: Billy knew what would happen when burping his newborn child, yet he still insisted on doing it anyways.

Warnings: vomit, breastfeeding? I think that’s abt it.

Wc: 373

A/n: I wrote this for the second time because I accidentally clicked onto a notification from tumblr and it didn’t save 😃

Divider by @pommecita

You sit in the cozy rocking chair, cradling your three-month-old daughter, Kathy, in your arms. The soft glow of the lamp in the corner casts a warm light, creating a serene atmosphere in the room. As Kathy nuzzles against you, finding comfort in her mother’s embrace, you catch a glimpse of your husband, Billy, watching with a curious and intrigued expression.

Billy has always been fascinated by the wonders of the female body, and the act of breastfeeding seems to captivate him. You can see the admiration in his eyes as he observes the gentle bond between you and Kathy. It’s a quiet moment, filled with the subtle sounds of your daughter’s content suckling.

“Ever think ‘bout how incredible it is, what your body can do?” Billy breaks the silence, his voice filled with wonder. You glance over at him, a smile playing on your lips. “Absolutely,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride in the marvels of motherhood.

The fascination in Billy’s eyes deepens as he continues to watch. After a while, he shifts in his chair, a newfound determination on his face. “Mind if I give it a shot?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye. You raise an eyebrow, amused by his curiosity. “Breastfeeding might be a bit challenging for you, dear,” you tease.

Billy chuckles, “Not that, but how about burping? Can I try burping her?” You nod, “Of course you can, Billy” passing him your precious bundle. He carefully takes 3 month old Kathy from your arms as she’s practically swallowed by Billy’s arms.

Billy, now holding Kathy with a mix of uncertainty and excitement, positions her against his shoulder, You watch as Billy gently pats Kathy’s back, slightly rocking her. “This is fun-“ Billy freezes as he feels something drip down his clothes back.

You stifled a laugh as he shuts his eyes, his nose crinkling from the smell. “Jesus,” He groans as you grab a cloth and wipe his back, Kathy’s staring at you over Billy’s shoulder with her blue doe eyes. “Well, that’s a first,” he says, glancing at Kathy, who looks equally surprised by her own actions.

After you finish wiping his back and Kathy’s mouth, Billy readjusts her in his arms. One hand behind Kathy’s head while the other was just under her bottom. Kathy looked up at her father with an innocent expression. “How could I get mad at you, darling?” He sighs, kissing her cheek as she breaks into a smile. You look over Billy’s shoulder just as your daughter smiles, Billy and you aweing over her cuteness.

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darknight3904 · 7 months ago

Text

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Rhaella is 18, Aemond 17

132 AC

"You are acting like a child."

His mother's words fall on deaf ears.

"It is not fair. Fat Lord Tyrell's son does not deserve her." Aemond seethes

"She is heir to Runestone, she needs to take command and have her own family, Aemond. Did you think that your father and I were going to let her flit about the castle with you? Reading books and flying off to the lake in the Kingswood to swim?" His mother asks as if the answer was plain as day.

"Bethrothe her to me. We will strengthen our bloodline." Aemond says staring at his mother

"Aegon and Heleana are strengthening the bloodline. You and Daeron will secure alliances when you are married." Alicent sighs and rubs her forehead, like he is asking an impossible feat.

"Fuck alliances," Aemond says

Alicent looks at him, and Aemond is unsure if it is a look of pity or anger.

"You will forget about her. It will take time, but you will. Happiness can be found in all places." She says, trying to assure him of his future.

"Is that what you and father have? Happiness?" He mocks

"Your father and I are friends. Something that is important in a marriage." She says

"Rhaella and I are friends!" He cries

"You can make more friends." Alicent dismisses

"I don't want more friends. I don't want some lords's daughter to be wed to. Engage me to Rhaella mother. You will not regret it." He says, determined.

"No. What's done is done. She will leave for Highgarden in a fortnight." Alicent says, "Now go, I'm sure you have training with Cole."

Aemond storms out of his mother's chamber, unwilling to accept what was occurring. Surely his father hadn't conceded to this after all Viserys spent all day in bed now riddled by milk of the poppy. His mother had to be pulling the strings behind all this.

He finds his legs taking him towards Heleana's chamber. Fuck Cole and his training, that could all wait.

He could hear Rhaella's musical laugh as he got closer. She is entertaining the twins and Maelor with some fairytales of Wrights and the brave men of the Night's Watch. He pushes the door open just enough to peek inside. Rhaella sits on the floor surrounded by his niece ad nephews who laugh when she mimics the flight of a dragon with her hands. Heleana smiles, a rarity, as she looks up from whatever bug she's holding.

How could his mother send Rhaella off? She was an integral part of their family. Even Aegon was not so bad to her. Save for his rather explicit comments when Rhaella was not listening...

He couldn't believe he was going to have to let her go. Let her fly off to Highgarden and those stupid golden roses.

"Brother." Heleana greets, spying him lurking in the hall

"Sister, Nephews, Niece." He greets as he enters and sits down on a small stool, "Rhaella."

"Aemond."

Rhaella looks up at him, her face is joyful but her eyes are sad. Perhaps she is here distracting herself with the youngest Targaryens to pretend she is not being forced to leave.

"I thought you had training with Cole." Heleana said

"I do. I'm...finding myself rather bored with him these days. All he speaks of is tourneys. I want real combat." He admits, too proud to say he missed Rhaella.

"Is it not better to not have to fight? It means the realm is at peace." Rhaella says

"I suppose so. I want the experience though." He says

Rhaella lets out a small hum and then reaches to help Maelor with his wooden blocks.

"Shall we build a tower?" She asks him

Maelor, who can't speak yet nods and smiles. He babbles what sounds like a yes and picks up a red block to hand to Rhaella.

Aemond is fully focused on Rhaella. HIs heart squeezes as he watches her laugh and help the baby build. He never wanted to share that laugh with another. Every smile she gives, every laugh, the crinkle in her eyes when she smiles, he wants it all. Rhaella is consuming every fibre of his being and he hopes it is the same for her. He has seen her eyes on him every day, how she watches closely if he rolls his sleeves up during a hot day of training. He swears he saw her even lick her lips once.

Aemond wants Rhaella. He wants to keep her with him forever. No other perfumed lord should even look in her direction as far as he is concerned. He wanted to curl up beside Rhaella the way they did when they were younger at the lake. He'd rest his head on her chest and listen to the steady beat of her heart.

Fuck. He was losing his mind.

Aemond is officially the definition of down bad. Get him a mega simp shirt or something.

Super short part. My trip is going well. Hope you enjoyed it. We are going to be going back to the main plot soon so strap in!

Next Part

Comment below to join the taglist. (The taglist is not by chapter, once added, you will remain there unless you ask to be removed.)

Taglist:

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@koobratzy

@schelfinser

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abbysimsfun · 3 months ago

Text

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 76 (A Happy Harvestfest With One Greedy Little Genius)

Despite their busy schedules with work, Heather and Conrad hosted most of her family in Brindleton Bay for Harvestfest dinner. Ash would start school soon, and Heather could scarcely believe how fast time had gone. It seemed only yesterday she brought him home from the hospital in Henford where he was born.

Heavily pregnant herself, Heather's sister Holly spent most of the night napping in the upstairs guestroom, while her husband Kris and daughter Tetra hid out in the bathroom when the number of strange people made the infant uncomfortable. But otherwise the house was full of love and celebration, just as Harvestfest was meant to be.

Everyone ate so much there were no turkey leftovers! And though Heather was an incredible chef who had mastered gourmet cooking in their quest for ambrosia, Conrad stepped up to make this year's grand meal. Not only would it help him with his own cooking skill in their quest, it let very-pregnant Heather rest and enjoy the day with her family.

By the time everyone left, they were exhausted but content that nothing had spontaneously caught fire this time, unlike their last Spooky Day party.

A few weeks after his birthday, Ash lost his first tooth. A little genius with perhaps a hint of Landgraab greed, he was so excited for the Tooth Fairy's visit, Heather worried he'd try to pull the rest of his teeth before they were ready to fall out!

"Are you going to put that tooth under your pillow tonight?" asked Conrad.

Ash shook his head. "No, I'm gonna save it and take it to Daddy's! He told me when he was a kid, his Tooth Fairy gave him ten whole simoleons - per tooth!" Heather and Conrad exchanged wry looks. "With inflation, who knows how rich she is now!"

Conrad laughed as Heather balked. "How do you know about inflation? You're five."

"Gramma Nancy taught me about inflation," he said with a shrug. "She said when I run the company one day, I'll have to know a lot."

Heather forced a smile, but later that night she texted Malcolm.

So this is weird. I heard your Tooth Fairy got caught in the last recession and the going rate for our son's teeth is still ten simoleons.

Malcolm: ...Did he bring up inflation?

Ten! (Which is still outrageous) No more! And don't let your mother make him feel like he has to run Landgraab Corp. one day!

Malcolm: Alright, I'll tell him. I swear.

And your mother...?

He didn't respond. Even if Malcolm couldn't or wouldn't pick this battle with his mother, Heather wanted her son to work harder for whatever he wanted in life than his father ever had. She wanted him to understand responsibility despite the privileges he'd been born into.

He took out the trash, cleaned the litter boxes, fed the animals - even the beetles in the insect farm, and always did his homework. He even loved to help Conrad rake the leaves as long as he could jump and play in them when they were done!

Just as outgoing as he was as a toddler, he spent as much time as he could with his friends. He loved playing on the pirate ship by the wharf with Scotti Holiday, whose parents, Summer and Travis, had befriended Heather over numerous trips to the vet with the Holidays' dog, Kona.

"Be glad there's only going to be one at home," Scotti said. "Mateo is annoying and all Courtney does is make messes." She was about a year older than Ash. Even though he was a genius, he thought six-year-old Scotti knew more about life than he ever could.

"I'll have another one soon too, but that brother or sister will live in San Myshuno with my dad."

"Do you see your dad a lot?"

Ash shrugged. "Not as much as you see yours. I see Conrad all the time, though."

"But Detective Gordon's not even your stepdad. He can't even discipline you when you do something bad."

"I don't really do bad things..."

Scotti laughed. "You're so funny, Ash Landgraab."

Even as Heather and Conrad marveled at how fast Ash had grown, the days passed at a snail's pace as they waited for his little brother or sister to be born. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: The pose before the cut is from the Us 3 pose pack by @katverse. I used the all-in-one version (there are 5 poses) and caught them between pose flips, but I also caught Gord breaking into the shot! So this is now one of my favourite family portraits on the walls of their home. 🥰

NOTE 2: I'm itching to post Saturday's post early. Should I do it or is Saturday fine? It's a really good episode. 👀

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #brindleton bay #harvestfest #cassandra goth #mortimer goth

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auras-moonstone · 1 year ago

Note

Ethan Landry x reader where her family forgot her birthday so she has to spend her birthday alone until he gives her a gift with a card that says happy birthday or something like that

forget about the heartbreaks — ethan landry

word count: 2,039

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: when ethan comes home to a heartbroken y/n, he does his best to make her forget about the awful birthday fiasco.

warnings: lots of fluff and cheesiness, you’ve been warned.

Y/N HAD BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO HER 20TH BIRTHDAY DINNER FOR WEEKS. She had invited her parents for dinner at her apartment, and she was beyond excited. They hadn’t seen each other for months, as Y/N moved to New York to study and they stayed in California.

Starting in a new city alone, at such a young age was very hard for Y/N. She had made an amazing group of friends, yes, but she couldn’t help but feel homesick. She missed her mother’s warm hugs and her father’s calming smile. Hence why she had been counting the days until the day came.

She felt her roommate’s gaze on her when she walked out of her room. “Hey, Eth.”

“Hi. I was just about to head to Chad’s. I wanted to see you before I go.”

“Sorry I’m kicking you out of the dorm.” she said guiltily.

“You didn’t kick me. I was the one who suggest you invite your parents for dinner. And it’s only for a couple of hours, Y/N/N. It’s no big deal.” he assured her. “You look beautiful, by the way. I told you red was your color.”

Y/N laughed, remembering Ethan’s look of relief when she got out of the dressing rom with a satisfying smile on her face, letting him know they had finally found the right dress—which was the one he had chosen. “I still can believe you picked up this one.”

“What does that mean?!” he asked offended.

“Eth, you have the same polo shirts in different colors. And you wear flannel jackets.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Ethan crossed his arms.

“You have no sense of style, Eth.” Y/N said, and he put his hands on his chest dramatically, as if she had just wounded him. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t mean you don’t pull off polo shirts. You look amazing in them.”

“That actually makes me feel better.” he said, trying not to let her know how much he liked being complimented by her. “Anyways, I better go. Your parents should be here at any moment.”

“Thank you so much, Ethan. Really. For helping me cook, for going shopping with me, for baking the cake with me.” she hugged him tightly, enjoying the way she could hear his heartbeats accelerating as he hugged her back.

“Anything for you” he mumbled against her hair. “Save me some cake, okay?”

“Of course.”

“Have fun.” he shouted right before the door shut close.

Once she finished setting the table, Y/N pulled out her phone to check on her parents. She noticed the texts she had sent that afternoon hadn’t been answered yet. She supposed it had been because they had been on the plane, but they should’ve landed hours ago. So she decided to call.

“Hi, mom. Finally. I sent you and dad lots of texts. What happened?” Y/N said as her mother picked up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. We just landed.” the sweet voice of her mother said.

“Just now? I thought you were flying in the morning.” Y/N said confused.

“We did! It’s a long flight, honey. You know that.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “Mom, what are you talking about?” she laughed confused. “It’s only five hours by plane.”

“What?“ she bursted out laughing. Y/N heard the sound of her father’s voice asking his wife what was wrong with her. “Your daughter is being funny.”

“You are being funny, mom. Where are you both?” Y/N asked, losing her patience.

“London, honey. Your father has a business trip, I thought we told you.” the woman said.

Y/N’s body went still. She must have misheard her, or her mother must have been joking. “Very funny, mom. Cut it.”

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird.” the sound of a car horn was heard. “Oh, the cab just arrived. Honey, I’m sorry but we have to get to the hotel.”

“Come on, mom. Stop it. It isn’t funny anymore.” Y/N said, her voice broke a bit. She held onto the hope that it was all just one twisted joke, that her parents were actually about to burst through the door, with a ‘Baby, we’re right here’ smile, and she would be so happy.

“Are you about to cry? What’s wrong?” the concern on her mother’s voice made Y/N angry.

“Oh, it’s no big deal. Just that my parents forgot they were supposed to be here with me, for my birthday.” she said bitterly.

A gasp of realization followed by heavy breathing was heard on the line. No words were muttered. “Y/N…”

“I told you how much I needed you both to be here. I don’t even care that it was my birthday. It was just an excuse to make you both come to New York, because I know that only a special occasion can make you two take a break from work. I clearly overestimated you.”

“I’m sorry… we’re sorry” her dad sighed. Y/N assumed she had been on speaker.

“I’m sorry too. Hope you have fun in London.” she ended the call and the tears fell down like a cascade. She looked around the room, seeing the plates perfectly arranged around the vase containing roses, and felt a pang in her heart.

Weeks of anticipation and hours of preparation went to waste. She never would’ve guessed she would end up on the floor of her living room, all alone, crying because the ones who meant the most to her didn’t show to her birthday.

Y/N didn’t know how long she had spent crying her heart out, but she guessed it had been too long because the tears stopped falling and she felt completely exhausted and weak, her head hurt and her eyes felt tired. And she also heard the front door open, meaning Ethan had arrived.

She hid her face in the pillow, not wanting him to see what a mess she was.

“Is the birthday girl tired from one dinner? I think my grandma has more energy than you” he joked. She still didn’t look up. “I know you’re not sleeping, dork. I saw you hiding your face.” after a few seconds of silence, Ethan pulled the pillow away and his teasing smile fell at the sight of her puffy red eyes, the dry tears on her cheeks and her saddened gaze. “Y/N/N…“

The tears were streaming down her face again before she could even open her mouth. Ethan instantly pulled her into his arms, and it wasn’t until that moment that she realized how much she needed that.

The feeling of his arms made her heart warm up a bit, the familiarity of his sweet cologne calmed her down, which allowed her to finally speak, “They forgot, Eth.”

Ethan’s body went still, and the only reason why he didn’t grab her phone and dial Y/N’s parents number to scream at them for having hurt her, was because that was the last thing Y/N needed right now.

“I know that no matter what I do, I won’t be able to make this the best birthday you ever had. But I want you to at least enjoy the last hours of your day, so I promise I’ll try my best to make you a little bit happier.” he said before running to his room. He came back a couple of seconds later, hands behind his back. “I know you have been wanting one of these for a long time.”

Ethan sat next to her again, handing her the wrapped box. She gave him a little smile, and took the card that was attached to the ribbon.

so you can capture the things you like :)

happy birthday to the best friend (and roommate) in the world!

love, eth x

The tidy handwriting and the three little hearts scribbled at the very corner of the note made her want to cry of cuteness. If she had any more tears in her system, she would have done it.

“You’re the sweetest, Eth.” she kissed his cheek and he became a whole blushing mess. She saw the mark she left on his skin and laughed. “Oops, I forgot I was wearing red lipstick.”

“It’s okay… now open it. You’re killing me!” Ethan said excitingly.

Laughing at his excitement, she opened the box and her wide-eyed gaze fell on him. “Holy shit, Ethan!”

“You like it?” Ethan asked with a huge grin. He was happy by her change of mood. Seeing her in such devastating state literally broke his heart into a million pieces.

“I love it. Thank you so much.” she placed the Instant Camera he gifted her on the box to pull him into a long and warm hug. “Not only for the camera, but for everything. You make me really happy, and I’m glad I got to spend my birthday with you.”

He smiled at her and then leaned in to whisper “Happy birthday, Y/N/N.”

“Thank you, Eth.” she answered softly.

“Now, let’s test your camera” his smile even bigger than before. Y/N couldn’t help but break into one too—it was impossible not to, Ethan had the most contagious and beautiful smile in the world. It was so breathtaking and heartwarming that it needed to be captured. So she did. “I didn’t mean test it on me!” he laughed.

Y/N looked at the polaroid on her hand. Her attention wasn’t caught by Ethan’s perfect white and straight teeth, or by his gorgeous brown eyes that reflected happiness, or by his adorable wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. It was caught by the scarlet mark on his cheek, with the shape of her lips. A swarm of butterflies invaded her stomach, she liked him so much it hurt.

“The note said I should capture the things I like… so I did.” he looked at Y/N in complete shock for a moment, and then his face lit up like a christmas tree, and Y/N could sense the lingering question. “I mean it. I like you, Eth. As more than a best friend.”

Ethan reached his arm out to take her hand and pulled her into him. “I like you too.” he said right before pressing his soft lips against her crimson ones. “Let me see the picture.” Ethan said when they got out of the dizzying state that the consuming kisses left them in.

“You’re so gorgeous, did I ever tell you that?” Y/N asked as she watched him observe the polaroid.

“No, you didn’t” Ethan’s blood rushed into his cheeks.

“Well, you are. And if you blush that prettily every time I compliment you, then I’m never stopping.” she whispered, pressing kisses all over his face, leaving red marks everywhere. She took another picture. “I’m also never going to stop taking pictures of you, just so you know.”

“You’re so cheesy.” Ethan rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips went up.

“It’s actually your fault, you know?”

“How?”

“First of all, you are so amazing that you leave me no choice but to fall for you. And then, you gift me a camera. You brought it on yourself.” she shrugged and his sweet laugh invaded her ears, making her heart go wild.

“Cheesy.” he repeated. “Come here and cuddle me.”

When Y/N settled her head on his chest, Ethan stretched the arm that wasn’t wrapped around her waist and grabbed the camera. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and they both smiled.

“I bet that was awful, you have the worst pulse.” Y/N said, raising her head to see the picture he had just taken, but Ethan wouldn’t let her. “Eth!”

“Wait a second” he searched for the pen on his pocket and started writing something on the polaroid.

“Why do you have a pen on your pocket?” Y/N laughed.

“So I can write my number when girls ask for it.” Ethan replied, trying not to laugh when Y/N sent him a glare. “I’m kidding” he chuckled.

“You’re the worst.” she scoffed.

The curly-haired boy pressed a kiss on her shoulder before handing her the polaroid. On the white frame, the words in black ink read ‘Be my gf, Y/N/N?’

‘I’d love to, Eth’, she replied underneath.

She showed him the polaroid and they both smiled at each other “Cheesy” she repeated his words.

“We’re a match made in heaven.” Ethan said.

“We really are.”

#ethan landry #ethanlandry #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic

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romaevelizz · 7 months ago

Text

Fruits

Aemond Targaryen x blk!cousin!reader

Sum: He wasn’t the same person she remembered how could he do that to her

warnings: death, cursing, child loss, angst, hurt comfort. Not proofread

p.2 of my little love

“You can’t just storm Dragon stone!” Aemond told her watching as his wife readied in her riding clothes. The dark fabrics coving her as her handmaidens tightend her clothes.

The princess had only been abed for two days she was in no condition to go hunt her father. By all means did Aemond himself not want Deamon Targaryen dead, but it couldn’t happen now. even he knew that. But he saw her eyes, the once kind eyes he craved admiration from, they were dark. They were dead, angry. His foot steps heavy as he walked up behind her him shooing the maids, his own hands holding her corset ties. His eye met here through the mirror, “I’m going with.” He spoke.

“I will not have my wife who’s still healing herself go and die because of her lack of mind.”

She only scoffed “Our daughter, our Unborn daughter is dead and all you can think about is me in the wrong state of mind? Right shame on me.” She spoke her words filled with venom.

Turning around she faced him his hands quickly held her shoulders “ Because you are here, you’re all I have left. Apologizes tis you finding selfish of me to not want you to die, they only women I’ll love the only women who’s looks at me like I’m not some endless burden or disappointment. You tis always been you that’s had faith in me.” He spoke his voice becoming shaken.

Her brows frowned under his touch they way he shakes softly. she was filled with rage and now it was staring to spill out on him, her husband. Her mouth opened slightly to say something but she didn’t. Her hand held his face, Aemond melting under her as she did. Her eyes meeting his, a million words could be said with the way they looked upon one another. He was grieving to but she had been blinded by her own, her own rage to even think to comfort him.

His head fell onto her shoulder a quiet sob leaving Aemonds lips as he held her still. “I’m sorry dear wife, I couldn’t protect you or our children, what kind of man..- what kind of Husband does that make of me. I’m so sorry my sweet girl..” The Old Valyrian spilling of his tongue as He weeped quietly into her shoulder.

Her hand trembled has the tangled in his hair holding his close as he consumed her in his arms her soft hushes soothing him gently, “Tis not your fault..”

She pulled his face back her handholding him carefully “But this is something I can only do, they see you or Vhagar you’ll be killed immediately. My father is a week man tis why those men did a job he couldn’t stomach. My father is deemed to have no fears but it’s me, well my mother. And if there’s something he’s always reminded me that I’m just as her.” The Princess spoke holding her husbands face.

He wouldn’t kill her.

He couldn’t kill her.. he was a coward..

Climbing upon cannibal the Large dragon letting out a hyena like giggle, he knew what is to come, he’d be eating today. His menacing giggles caused his whole body to shutter. He could feel her grief her anger. He knew what he was to do. But he’d only do if told perhaps he’d be eating more than once today. Cannibal knew they were going out to kill, for the little princess was now dead, he could feel Y/ns heart break that night the pain she went through, mercy to the pit keepers. The princess let her hand touch his dark scales taking a deep breath “Shall the gods have pitty on them my sweet boy, but not even the gods can save Deamon Targaryen.” She finished patting him letting him know to take off.

His wings thumped like thunder as they enters they skies. Y/ns mind becoming clouded with memories as she closed her eyes, the birth of her child. How her daughter would cling on to Aemond the small child sharing the Targaryen features but her skin dark as hers. How her small giggles echoed through the halls as she played with her cousins, the throaty laughes as Her and Aemond kissed on her. How gentle both their dragons where with the little princess, Cannibal nugging her causing her to fall back only for the lady of dragons herself to grumble at the old man. But none the less did she laugh always a bright bright girl. A girls who light was cut to soon form this world. Her eyes slowly opened, Cannibal glancing back at her his green eyes telling her that this will be done.

She wanted her arrival to be known as by gods it was, Cannibals scream shaking the whole castle.

“The Hell was that?” Jace spoke his eyes wide.

Rhaenyras eyes looked up lazily at her son but quickly shifted to her husband. “She’s here.”

“Who’s here” Baela spoke looking up at her.

“Your sister.” Rhaenys spook smiling as her granddaughter.

Rhaenyra knew what had happen. Only her, her husband didn’t know that he had killed his granddaughter but soon he will. She knew Y/n was here to kill him and she’d had enough to say to try to persuade her not to but never did she think she wouldn’t to stop her. “Let her in with a warm welcome.” Perhaps she’d make an example.

The smile that lingers on Daemon’s face would fall immediately as he went to greet his eldest daughter, her face tierd and dark. And as soon as she pulled that blade. The guards will go to stop her only for Rhaenyra to tell them to stop. “Angle what is the meaning of this.” Deamon said as she held the dagger to his throat.

“Those men you sent.” She said.

Daemon eyes widened, no.

“Men he sent Grandaughter what are you talking about?” Rhaenys spoke trying to pray the life away fro. daemons neck.

“The men he sent to kill my daughter. A son for a son, but there was no son so a daughter shall do they said just as they slit her throat open.” Y/n said her words breaking as she dug the dagger deeper into Deamons throat.

Rhaenys, no everyone went quiet. The silence in the room only the soft cried of the princess could be heard. Soon as scream of a dragon, no just one Caraxes, the poor thing being torn apart by Cannibal shame the loss of a dragon had to be noticed but shame on her to leave something he loved so dearly something so devoted to him alive.

Rhaenyra spoke up quickly “There’s no need to have your beast feed on the dragons!”

“He’ll eat his fill, besides my grandmothers and Sisters dragons any dragon in the pit that challenges him will be devoured if he wishes. Tis rude not to feast and a reunion,no your grace?” The princess said cutting Rhaenyra off.

The quick voices of the boys and guards as they told there other to just kill her. That there is more of them than her. “The Devil has entered your house my queen yet you let her hunt and tarnish is as she’s her she’s unwelcome.” Ser Erryk spoke up.

“What your tongue” Daemon quick to shot the guard down. Even now in this moment he seeks to protect his daughter, the same one that holds a knife to his throat.

A fast hit to the face caused the Prince to fall down. Daemon held his face never lifting it to look her in the eye “be great full they’re my sisters, or I’d take a daughter from you, secretly I hope they killed me just to watch a movie over my body as your wife told you what you did. Because your a coward, who kills babes.” She spoke in a hushed tone the floors of the castle shaking could be fell under their feet cannibals eating he was getting his fill, even through the quiet halls of the DragonStone castle they could hear his giggles the menacing giggles from Cannibal as he feasted on Caraxes.

“I’m sorry my Angel, kill me.” He spoke the undertone of begging could be herd.

No he didn’t get to beg to be killed. She grit her teeth as she clenched her fist, falling to her father she hit him over and over. Just as he taught her putting every punch into her body. “You killed her and yet you beg of me to kill you, as I stood there dagger to my face begging for her daughters life!” She screamed. Now both her hand ps came of her head fist closed as the continued, blood from her father now on her hands. The muffled screams around her being blurred by her own “How dare you!”

“Not only did you take My living child from me but my unborn!” She cried, Daemonds blood now splattering on her face, her cheats heavy. Her body would soon give out on her.

Her chest raising and lowering quickly as she grabbed his collar pulling him up slamming his body back into the stone under him “How fucking dare you,” she cried. she couldn’t hear what her father was saying nothing but plebes of how sorry he was that it want ment to turn out like this. He didn’t fight back, he didn’t want to he hoped he’d kill her. He knew she wasn’t listing to his pleas of forgiveness becaus it was damming of him to think that she ever could.

But oh his sweet girl, his first born how he’s hurt her. he’s never dream of it yet he did how could he. how dare he make her cry like this.

“Your pathetic, truly and pathetic boy.” She hissed her face close to her fathers bloody one. He only muttered unheard to her.

“Speak up you son ova bitch!” She screamed.

“I know my sweet Angel,” he coughed.

She should’ve slit this throat right. But that’s just as he wanted.

“I hope the image of my mother in me hunts you, I hope she haunts you and well as your granddaughter, I hope they both hate you. Gods know mother would.” She whispered her words dark and full of hate.

Daemon only nodded, once more she slammed his head into the stone under him before getting up.

Y/n didn’t look up but she felt her grandmothers hands offering g a comforting touch she didn’t deny “I spared your husband, I trust you’ll do the same only the death of my daughter was no accident as Lucerys death was. For dragons got out of hand and Shame on my husband for letting his anger get the best of him, but your sons continued and continued to push, and dragons we thought of challenged against one another when your sons blew fire into Vhagrs face. Be thank full I don’t take Aegons life as a life of my unborn was takes as well.” She spoke t words Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra holding her son close to her.

Y/n looked up as her their eyes locking “ My the Gods be with you all in this war, My Queen.”

Looking away she kissed her grandmothers face moving past to her sisters, her bloody hand holding there faces and she kissed their foreheads “ I love you, you know how to get to me.” She whispered to the twins.

With that she lefts, and lucky them Cannibal only ate Caraxes. Cannibal looked up his large tail wagging like a dog as she walked in the devilish giggles as he stood up.

“Hmmm did you eat well pretty boy? Yes? Good now we must return to my husband, and your old lady, let’s go.”

“My lady are you all right? You’re covered in blood..” One of the maidens spoke her voice nervous.

She hummed “Ready me a bath, let my husband know I’m home and I seek his presents.” She spoke taking of her gloves her voice stale.

With a quick nod the did just that, soon she’d meet her two guards “Princess. Did you.”

“No, be begged to be killed so I kept him alive to let this hunt him forever, not even in death will he escaped this curse.” She spoke continuing to walk the two men following behind her and she loosened her clothes.

“You plan do undress in the halls m’ lady.” Maliki asks a small chuckle behind his words.

“Have some respect.” Khalil hit him.

The twins bickering always brought a smile to her face. “Stand by let Aemond in when he arrives.” She spoke softly entering her bed chambers.

“Yes princess.”

She looked at herself in the mirror the blood that covered her hands and face was gross, pealing the leather of her riding clothes of was uncomfortable to say the least she was exhausted. Allshe wanted us to touch of her husband, his large gentle hands holding her body close. That’s all she asked for. “ my lady your crying..” a handmaiden spoke gently.

“Ah tis nothing Marcie..” she said, the sound of her doors opening caused her to wipe your tears quickly her body turning towards the door.

“It’s prince Aemond my Princess.”

“Your all dismissed,” Aemonds eyes watched her shoo her ladies away.

He didn’t say anything not with words any how. His gaze offered a gentle look to her ”I didn’t,” Aemonds brows frowned “ahh! no don’t look at me with pitty.” She hissed.

“I didn’t kill him because he asked me to kill him, I’m making him love with this pain…” she said looking at her husband “you should’ve seen how he weeped..”

Aemond nodded “turn.” She did as told.

Aemond was gentle as he took her clothes off “You did good my dear.” He mumbled lips kissing her warm skin. His hands grazing her body.

“Join me” she whispered turning. Her body bare as she presented herself to him. Maybe it was the blood on her body that mad him so… eager to join her. His body swiftly moving behind her as her pulled her against him.

Aemonds lips kissed on her shoulders his hands touching her as they pleased, them holding her breast gently holding them with care as she hummed small moans. One would think he was trying to breed her again, no not he just wanted to cherish his sweet girl, to touch her as she liked. Selfish to think of was for his pleasure, his hands massaged out her aching body. “Let me take care of you.”

His arms wrapped around her tightly pulling her against him he could feel her body shutter against him and she started to cry. He started to cry as well “All is done…”

“We have a war to finish, May tho gods be in our favor dear husband.”

“Well will start again,but non shall be replaced.” She finished.

#hotd aemond #hotd spoilers #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic

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thecircularlibrary · 4 months ago

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helooooo

i love your writing!!

can u pls do a lyrason as parents one shot?

tyyy

aw thank you <3 here you go!!!!

oh darling don't you ever grow up

Grayson x Lyra

warnings: n/a

words: 1135

border credit: @strangergraphics-archive

Gianna Annelise Hawthorne was the most beautiful thing Grayson had ever laid eyes on. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the feeling of holding his daughter for the first time. Lyra was looking up at him, and no matter how much other people might say she was a mess, to him, she was glowing. He looked into Gianna’s brown eyes and he saw nothing but her mother in them, in every single way that mattered. Her tiny hand grabbed his finger and he lifted it and kissed it, promising her that he’d be there. Promising her that he’d care, that she’d never have to feel what he and his brothers had felt.

Lyra’s mom told the nurse to open the door and let in Grayson’s family. The sudden cacophony of sounds that entered the serene room should’ve been something Grayson anticipated, but he didn’t. Gigi, Avery, and Savannah went to Lyra’s side as his brothers went to his. Nash was the first to hold her. Jameson was the first to cry.

✠⚞☀⚟✠

“Sweetheart, you can sit on the counter while I make breakfast, but if you do, it has to be over there,” Grayson pointed to the actual counter, not the island where Gia had been seated 3 minutes ago. He was making waffles; past-tense. Present-tense, Grayson was covered in flour. His five-year-old daughter was giggling as he picked her up and moved her.

“Grayson, have you seen my—Oh!” Lyra covered her face in a laugh before walking over to Gia.

“Gia…what did you do?” Lyra was giggling the exact same laugh as their daughter. Meanwhile, Grayson was still covered in flour. He looked at her, completely deadpan.

“Oh, is something funny?”

Lyra covered her face with her hand, but Grayson could still see a smile in her eyes.

“Nope. Nothing funny here. In fact, this is very serious and I think it calls for an emergency DoorDash order,” Lyra was fighting to keep a straight face in her jeans and graphic tee—the pro of working as a Google software engineer was that she could dress functionally without needing to dress seriously. Grayson had to remind himself to stop thinking about her clothes by looking at the half-mixed waffle batter (which they no longer had enough flour to finish) and then looking at his daughter.

“Yes it does. In fact, it sounds like an emergency IHOP order. For two,” Grayson raised his eyebrows at his wife who was still trying to keep a straight face. They both avoided looking at their daughter who had gasped at Grayson’s words.

“Daddy, I want waffles too,” she said quietly. She was a very soft-spoken child and she rarely yelled. The softness of the statement made his heart melt. Even though Lyra was usually the first to cave, Grayson lost this battle.

✠⚞☀⚟✠

“You aren’t wearing that.”

When Grayson was old enough to have kids, he had told himself that he would just let them make their own decisions about what they wore to school. Especially because he already knew he was going to put them in Heights Country Day as soon as they were old enough (the ninth grade). And he really wanted to stand by that decision.

Until his daughter tried to go to her first day of eighth grade in a mini skirt. A Lululemon mini skirt.

“But Dad, I have tennis after school today and it’s literally a tennis skirt. It saves me so much time if I don’t have to change,” said Gia. She looked exasperated and tired of her father.

“You also have ballet after school some days but I don’t see you wearing a leotard and tights to school on those days, now do I?” This time, it was Lyra that had spoken. “I’ve had long conversations with you about what you can wear to school versus what you should wear to school and I want you to guess where this one falls.”

“Ugh.”

“Answer, Gianna Annelise.”

“Under what I can and not what I should…” Gianna sighed.

“Exactly,” Grayson said. Before he could continue, Lyra shot him a look.

“Please change, Gia,” Lyra pleaded.

“Okay Mom.” Gia walked back upstairs and to her room.

“Mom? I’m the one who told her to change?” Grayson stood confused by the stairs.

“Girls tend to listen to their moms, Gray. It’s nothing personal, I promise,” Lyra said as she patted his cheek and went outside to start the car. He shook his head and questioned how he got lucky enough to have a daughter that was exactly like his wife.

✠⚞☀⚟✠

“Dad! I’m gonna be late if we don’t hurry! I have to get to the tryout clinic early so I can learn the routine early so I can teach it so they can consider me for captain!” Gianna was standing by the door in cheer shorts and a shirt, ready for her junior year cheer tryouts. Grayson was still getting his shoes on.

“I’ll be right there, Gia, it’ll be alright. You’re the best one there so I’m sure they’ll pick you anyways.”

“Thank you, Dad, but that isn’t true. Besides, even if it was, that’s not enough. I need to show leadership and commitment. And I can’t do that if I’m late!” Gianna lost her soft-spoken nature when she got older.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready, let’s go,” Grayson grabbed his keys and went to leave.

“Wait, Dad!”

Grayson whipped around.

“Yes, Gia?”

Gianna grinned.

“Can I drive?”

✠⚞☀⚟✠

Years later, when Grayson was making a senior video for Gianna’s final cheer banquet, he remembered her tiny hands on the day she was born. He remembered her curly hair that bounced as he moved her from counter to counter when he tried to make breakfast in the morning. He remembered her personality growing more and more like her mothers as she grew up. He also remembered things like her joy the first time she did a tumbling pass. Her face when she was fitted for her first pair of pointe shoes. The grin she had when she won her first doubles match.

He remembered Gianna’s first homecoming and how her cousin Hannah had insisted on Lyra and Avery making them mums. He remembered, specifically, Lyra’s struggle and the way it had been worth it when he and Jameson got to take pictures of their daughters next to each other at their last homecoming. This time, Grayson cried first.

When she cheered her last football game. When she danced her last Nutcracker with her ballet company. When she played her last doubles match, and won. These memories and their subsequent tears tore through Grayson’s mind. All of Gianna’s lasts. All the things she wouldn’t experience again.

So when he finished the slideshow and needed to pick a song, he knew exactly which one to pick.

#the inheritance games #the final gambit #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #grayson hawthorne #lyra catalina kane #lyra kane #avery grambs #jameson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #lyra x grayson #lyrason #the brothers hawthorne #games untold #glorious rivals #isabellas fics #isabellas asks

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whileiamdying · 4 months ago

Text

‘I’m Still Here’ Review: Walter Salles Returns Home With the Powerful Story of a Broken Family’s Resistance

Premiering at Venice, the film stars Fernanda Torres as a mother of five children who reinvents herself as a lawyer and activist after suffering a devastating loss at the height of Brazil’s military dictatorship.

BY DAVID ROONEY SEPTEMBER 1, 2024 @ 11:48AM

Fernanda Torres in 'I'm Still Here.' COURTESY OF VENICE FILM FESTIVAL

Walter Salles’ 1998 international breakthrough, Central Station, earned an Oscar nomination for the magnificent Fernanda Montenegro. Now in her 90s, the actress turns up toward the end of the director’s first feature in his native Brazil in 16 years, the shattering I’m Still Here(Ainda Estou Aqui), in a role that requires her to speak only through her expressive eyes. What makes the connection even more poignant is that she appears as the elderly, infirm version of the protagonist — a woman of quiet strength and resistance played by Montenegro’s daughter, Fernanda Torres, with extraordinary grace and dignity in the face of emotional suffering.

Many powerful films have been made about the 21 years of military dictatorship in Brazil, from 1964 through 1985, just as they have about similar oppressive regimes in neighboring South American countries like Chile, Argentina and Uruguay. The human rights abuses of systematic torture, murder and forced disappearances represent an open wound on the psyches of those nations, for which cinema has often served as a vessel for collective memory.

It’s not often, however, that the spirit of protest against the horrors of junta rule is viewed through such an intimate lens as I’m Still Here. That aspect is deepened by evidence throughout the film of Salles’ personal investment in the true story of the Paiva family after patriarch Rubens (Selton Mello), a former congressman, was taken from his Rio de Janeiro house in 1971, ostensibly to give a deposition, and never seen or heard from again.

Salles met the family in the late 1960s and spent a significant part of his youth in their home, which he credits as foundational to his cultural and political development. That accounts for the coursing vitality of the early scenes, as the five Paiva siblings dash back and forth between the house and the beach, and an extended family of friends of all ages seems to be constantly dropping by for drinks and meals and music and lively conversation.

There are sweet throwaway moments like two of the sisters dancing and singing along to the Serge Gainsbourg-Jane Birkin wispy make-out classic “Je t’aime … moi non plus,” without understanding the words. Just watching how one of the youngest kids, Marcelo (Guilherme Silveira), sweet-talks his way into keeping a stray dog they found on the beach conveys the warmth, spontaneity and affectionate scrappiness of the Paiva household dynamic. The young actors playing the kids are all disarmingly natural and appealing.

The first blunt intrusion into the family’s bubble of closeness and comfort comes when eldest daughter Vera (Valentina Herszage) is out with a group of friends and their car is pulled over at a tunnel roadblock. It’s a disturbing scene in which we see teenagers — just minutes earlier cruising along, sharing a joint and laughing — ordered at gunpoint to stand against a wall while military officers question them, searching their faces for any resemblance to the “terrorist killers” they’re looking to apprehend.

An occasional hushed phone conversation or private exchange with a friend suggests Rubens’ involvement in something that needs to be kept quiet. But the script by Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega, based on the book by Marcelo Rubens Paiva, saves those details until long after Rubens is taken into custody. That puts us in the same position as his wife and children, wondering what their father could possibly have done to place him in the regime’s crosshairs.

The chill of uncertainty is hardest on Rubens’ wife Eunice (Torres), who does what she can to hide what’s going on from the youngest kids. But having armed strangers in their house and a car parked across the street to keep a constant eye on them is tough to explain, and the older siblings are aware something is very wrong.

The situation escalates when Eunice is hauled off for interrogation. With Vera away in London with family friends, the next oldest, 15-year-old Eliana (Luiza Kozovski), is forced to accompany her mother, with bags put over their heads to keep them from knowing where they are being taken.

The interrogation scenes, set in a grim building with confinement cells, are harrowing. Eunice is sequestered for 12 days. Denied contact with the family lawyer, she’s kept completely in the dark about what’s happening to her daughter and is unable to learn where her husband is being held. She’s coerced over and over to identify people in photo files as possible insurgents, but aside from her husband, she recognizes only one woman who teaches at her daughter’s school. Her isolation and fear are made worse by the constant screams of people being tortured coming through the walls.

There are many moments of raw tenderness after Eunice is released — notably when one of her daughters watches from the bathroom doorway, her face a mix of sorrow and terror, as her mother showers away 12 days of grime.

With the government refusing to acknowledge even that her husband was arrested, Eunice continues fishing for information, talking to Rubens’ friends who tell her the military is “shooting blind,” going after random people based on almost nothing concrete. Unable to make bank withdrawals without her husband’s signature, she struggles to keep up with expenses. At the same time, she begins studying the family lawyer’s case file, foreshadowing her eventual decision to relocate with the five children to São Paulo and return to college.

The chief focus of Marcelo Rubens Paiva’s book is essentially his mother’s quiet heroism — first as she single-handedly shoulders the responsibility of keeping the family together and protected, concealing her grief when the inevitable is confirmed, and subsequently when she earns a law degree at 48 and becomes active in a number of causes. That includes pushing for full acknowledgment from authorities of disappeared people like Rubens after democracy is returned to the country.

Salles’ heartfelt film jumps forward 25 years and then by almost 20 more, allowing us to absorb Eunice’s self-reinvention not in big crusading speeches but simply in her dedication to the work of keeping memories alive and not letting the abuses of the past be swept away.

Perhaps the most beautifully observed arc of the film is the gradual rebuilding of the family. As the children grow up and marry and grandchildren come along, they transition back into a noisy, joyful clan much like the one depicted in carefree scenes at the start. Even the simple process of sorting through boxes of family photos is viewed as a loving act of reclamation in a final stretch that will have many audiences in tears.

Torres (one of the stars of Salles’ terrific early film, Foreign Land, co-directed with Daniela Thomas) is a model of eloquent restraint, showing Eunice’s private pain and her necessary fortitude by the subtlest of means. Only once during the film does she raise her voice in anger after a sad occurrence, beating on the windows of the parked car watching the house in Rio and screaming at the two stone-faced men inside.

The final scenes in which Montenegro steps into the role are bittersweet, as Eunice has become nonverbal and uses a wheelchair, in steep decline with Alzheimer’s. The poignancy is almost overwhelming as we watch her gently lean in, her eyes lighting up and a hint of a smile forming, when Rubens’ photograph appears in a television program on the heroes of the resistance.

The movie looks gorgeous. Adrian Teijido’s agile cinematography uses 35mm to great grainy effect to evoke the ‘70s and Super 8mm home movies shot during that decade provide lovely punctuation. The other key asset to the film is Warren Ellis’ score, which starts out pensive and quietly troubling before shifting almost imperceptibly into a much more emotional vein with the surge of feeling that accompanies the forward time jumps.

While it could use a less generic international title that’s not also a well-known Stephen Sondheim song, I’m Still Here is a gripping, profoundly touching film with a deep well of pathos. It’s one of Salles’ best.

#Brazil #TIFF 2024 #Venice 2024 #Venice Film Festival #Venice Film Festival 2024 #Venice Film Festival Reviews #Venice Reviews #Walter Salles #Warren Ellis #Fernanda Torres #Selton Mello #Ainda Estou Aqui #I'm Still Here

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moonspirit · 9 months ago

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More Papamin!( ̀⌄ ́)Please！

Aahhhhh hello, and I'm sorry, I actually have more papamin drafts saved but didn't have much time to flesh them out T^T

But have this!

Papamin Propaganda #8:

When aruani firstborn daughter is old enough and going to elementary school, she often overhears her classmates talking about the reaction of how their parents felt when they were born.

One boy says, "My dad said when I was born, I looked like a warrior!"

One girl says, "My mom said i looked like a little diamond!"

Another kid says, "My parents said I looked like a baby cow. I was really cute."

They ask her: "What did you look like?"

But she's stumped for an answer. "... I-I don't know..."

Later that week, she finds her mother folding laundry slowly, looking a bit tired.

"Mama."

"Hm?"

"What did I look like?"

Annie lifts her eyebrows, setting down a pile of shirts. "What do you mean?"

Her daughter shifts from foot to foot. "When I came out of here," She reaches out to pat Annie's swollen belly. "What did I look like?"

"Hmm," Annie lightly hums, swishing her lips to a side. "You looked like a potato."

Her daughter is aghast. "A potato?!"

"Yup. A potato," Annie nods matter of factly. "Go ask your father, he's the one who said it first."

Off goes her daughter, marching to the kitchen, anxious and disappointed. On her way she spots a small basket of potatoes in the pantry, all brown and fairly ugly. Not a warrior, not a diamond, not a baby cow but a potato?! What will she tell her friends? They'll laugh!

She finds her father before the stove, chopping vegetables in a casual shirt, sleeves rolled up. It's the off season for her parents, there are no diplomatic meetings for a few months.

"Papa," She says, sidling up next to him, standing on her tip toes to see the array of chopped ingredients on the counter.

"Yes?" He says sweetly, flashing her a smile.

"Is it true that-"

But she's cut off by the pressure cooker letting out a shrill whistle of steam. Armin turns off the stove. A delicious aroma wafts from it. Something a little familiar though she can't put her finger on what.

"What was that?"

His daughter hesitates, biting her lip. "Is it true that... I looked like a potato?"

"A potato?" He repeats with mild intrigue, giving her a brief look.

"When I was born," She says louder, more dejected. "Mama said I looked like a potato."

Now Armin pauses, takes note of her crestfallen face, and throws his head back and starts to laugh.

"Papa!" She whines, heart sinking. So it was true after all. She'd rather not go to school now.

"Oh dear," He chuckles, putting the knife down and crouching down to her height. His hands, smelling of bell peppers and carrots, take hold of her cheeks, squishing them lightly. Disappointed light blue eyes meet amused, bright blue ones.

"You did look like a potato," He confirms, grinning.

"So I was ugly," Her shoulders slump. "Mama said you called me a potato first."

"I did," He chuckles, pinching her nose. "But you know why?"

She stares back dully at his twinkling eyes, not really keen on knowing.

"Because when your mom was pregnant with you, she had a craving for so many different foods," He explains, standing up to pop off the pressure cooker's lid. Thick steam rises from within and the aroma grows stronger. "By the end, all she wanted to eat was one thing though," He raises his eyebrows at her. "Want to take a guess what it was?"

His daughter shrugs.

"Okay," Armin laughs. "Say aaahh-"

She does it out of reflex, "Aaaahhh."

He pops in a chunk of something hot and purple. It melts in her mouth, the sweetness spreading across her tongue.

"Sweet potatoes," He grins. "All she wanted was sweet potatoes. And you looked like the sweetest potato I've ever seen."

She chews slowly, wide eyed and blinking at his highly amused face.

"Annie!" He laughs over his shoulder at approaching footsteps. "You have to tell her the whole story."

Annie steps into the kitchen, looking hungry now. "I... I want some coconut. Do we have any coconut?"

Hm, their daughter thinks, swallowing. Its warm and sweet, travelling down her throat.

Potatoes aren't so bad after all.

#anon ask #papamin propaganda #aruani #attack on titan #aruannie #armin arlert #annie leonhart #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #armin x annie #arminarlert #annie leonhardt

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 1 year ago

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Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 7: Father and Daughter (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 7: Father and Daughter

A hunt, a reunion, and a conflict. A normal day in Westeros then.

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: Nothing of note, save for parental trauma and a notable lack of Daemon shenanigans.

Word Count: 5.8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: OH MY GOD IM ALIVE???? Yeah, it appears I am 😭 I'm so sorry about the long wait on this chapter, the past two weeks have been wild for me ever since I came back from my vacation. 1. My dad crashed his car? 2. I had like five projects due during the past two weeks and I had to write in a report and evaluation about my project groupmate who essentially did nothing 😐 if I could beat someone's ass without getting suspended, istg... 3. I've been suffering from a lot of chest pains recently, which kinda stopped me from doing my thing for a while 4. I had insane writers block for like a week and it was horrid 😖 but luckily, I'm back now, and hopefully updating more often! And also I've learnt that my classmate is following me on tumblr, I am a little mortified, but hello regardless. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 💕 no Daemon cameo unfortunately, but he'll be back next chapter, and messier than ever.

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

109 years after Aegon's Conquest

The doors to the room burst open, and you stepped in, a little out of breath. Lord Hobert Hightower and the Hand, who were standing closest to the doorway, were engrossed deep in conversation when you walked in, and you heard something along the lines of “It’s only a matter of time before Viserys names him heir.” You try not to frown at that, nodding politely to them before heading over to the crowd gathered over at the other side of the room, cooing at the heir in question: little Aegon, who was celebrating his second nameday.

“Ah, Y/N!” Viserys exclaimed happily, gesturing for you to come and stand between him and Alicent, whose face was radiant with happiness. Viserys signalled for the wet nurse to step forward, and before you knew it, little Aegon was in your arms, babbling in that toddler frenzy of his. The assemblage of lords and ladies stepped closer to you, much to your discomfort, as you forced a cheerful smile and bounced Aegon up and down in your arms, which made him squeal with delight. “I fear that Aegon might come to see you as his mother sooner or late, Y/N, given how much he adores you.” Viserys claimed. You flush at his words, and Alicent soon steps in, smiling, “Tis true. Aegon always perks up when he’s in your arms.” You were sure you would melt into a puddle if you were subject to any more of their compliments. “You flatter me, Your Graces.”

In the periphery of your vision, you saw Ser Tyland Lannister attempt to get Viserys’ attention, and you handed back a now fussing Aegon to his nursemaid. Alicent shuffled over to the feast table, and she smiled brightly as you approached. Placing a hand on her swollen belly, your heart fluttered with delight when you felt a slight kick. Though the horrors of childbirth still plagued your mind, being there for Alicent’s relatively smooth birth with Aegon had made your fears lessen a little.

“How’s the babe?” you ask. “Only active when you’re here, it seems,” Alicent laughed. “They never seem to kick for anyone else other than you. I think they will adore you as much as Aegon does.” You chuckle, stroking Alicent’s belly gently. “What if the kicking is a sign that the babe will dislike me?” Alicent patted your hand, “Definitely not. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be dear to the babe.” she said with conviction. You blush at her words, “You flatter me, Your Grace.”

“Can someone tell me where in the Seven Hells Rhaenyra might be?” Viserys’ frustrated bellow drew you and Alicent out of your tender moment. Alicent’s face twisted with worry, and you were sure your face was a mirror image of hers. “You came in later than the rest of us. Did you see Rhaenyra anywhere?” You shake your head glumly, “She wasn’t in her chambers, or her apartments.” Alicent sighed in exasperation, “Viserys has questioned nearly every courtier in the room, and not a single one of them has a clue. Where might she be?” You chewed your lip, thinking back to the snippet of conversation you had overheard between the Hand and Lord Hobert. “She’s upset right now. The two of you were…” You refrained from finishing the sentence when you saw Alicent wince. “Do you have any inkling on where she might go to cool off?” “I don’t belie-” A look of realisation dawned in Alicent’s eyes. “You know somewhere?” You ask her urgently. Alicent nodded, “I’ll go find her. You should stay and satiate yourself before the journey.” “Are you sure?” You ask her, concerned. Alicent squeezed your hand gently. “Don’t worry about me. I think I can get Rhaenyra to see reason.”

You glance pensively at Alicent’s retreating figure. Sighing, you approached the refreshments table, smiling gratefully as a servant handed you a plate with some slices of roast pork. You heard your name being called, and turned around to find Viserys. “Your Grace-” you moved to curtsy, but Viserys stopped you, “I told you, no need for such stuffy courtesies when you are with me.” You smiled wryly, “I thought it wouldn’t apply in a room full of courtiers.” Viserys waved away your words, “You are my family, Y/N. There are no such constraints within your own kin.” You smile sadly at the word ‘family’. It was a little sad to say, but you definitely did feel more of a kinship with the current members of House Targaryen over those of your own house.

“Speaking of kin,” Viserys’ voice turned serious. “I am in need of a favour from you, Y/N.” You snapped to attention. “Whatever you need, Viserys.” He sighed, looking mournful and irritated at the same time. “It has been nigh three years since I have wedded Alicent. Time after time, I have tried to approach Rhaenyra, but she shuns me away every single time. The rare chances she actually sits down and listens, she sulks like a child and only provides me with short responses.” Viserys sighed again, whatever sadness he had turning into disappointment and exasperation. “This is not the way the heir to the Iron Throne should behave.” He looked at you beseechingly, “I implore you, Y/N. I believe what Rhaenyra needs is for a motherly figure to talk to her, and persuade her to abandon such foolish antics. I fear Alicent would not be able to serve such a role, since Rhaenyra’s ire is directed at the both of us. But you,” You swallowed nervously. “I’ve seen how close Rhaenyra kept you after Aemma’s death. For months, apart from Alicent, you were her closest confidant. I know naught of what has transpired between the two of you, but I believe you to be the best person for this tiresome task. Will you do methis favour?”

Your expression was resigned, but you forced out a smile nonetheless. “But of course. I will do my best, Viserys.” He closed his eyes in relief, clapping you on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Thank you.” You gave a tentative smile back, painfully aware of the numerous eyes glued to the both of you. What you failed to notice, however, were the heavy gazes of Otto and Hobert Hightower on you.

An awkward silence weighed upon the royal wheelhouse as it made its way to the Kingswood. You glance uncomfortably between Viserys, Alicent, and Rhaenyra, watching with some pity as Viserys attempted to make conversation with his irascible and sullen daughter. A miniature dragon thrust in your face soon drew your attention however, and you looked down to frown admonishingly at little Aegon, who blinked his wide violet eyes at you innocently. The little devil, you were sure he was trying to garner your attention on purpose. Earlier, he had been weeping inconsolably, much to the nursemaid’s and Alicent’s distress. But when you had taken him into your arms, he had ceased his tears immediately and gave you a cherubic smile, which made Alicent give you a knowing smile and Rhaenyra to look at the both of you in disdain. The expression of disdain had yet to depart from Rhaenyra, as you played patiently with Aegon, flying his dragon miniature around him and smiling as the toddler spun his head around to follow the motions of the dragon with rapt fascination.

The tension in the wheelhouse was not lightening in the slightest bit, as Viserys began talking about Rhaenyra giving him grandchildren, of all things. You had to stop yourself from groaning in exasperation. If Viserys truly wanted to reconnect with Rhaenyra again, why was he digging himself into an even bigger hole? He should know that after Aemma, Rhaenyra would be disinclined to entertain notions of childbirth. You wanted to put your head in your hands, but Aegon poked you in the cheek.

“No one’s here for me!” Rhaenyra’s angry outburst halted all activity in the wheelhouse, including Aegon’s. You froze, looking up at Rhaenyra, but her bitter gaze was focused solely on her father. All of you endured the rest of the ride in silence.

The rocking of the wheelhouse soon came to an end. You remained seated as Viserys and Alicent stepped out to the raucous cheers of the crowd, allowing Aegon’s nursemaid to take him from your arms. You remembered Viserys’ plea, and took in Rhaenyra’s wistful expression. “Hail, hail! Aegon the Conqueror babe, Second of His Name!” You grimace when you hear the tasteless remark.

Rhaenyra’s fists were clenched at her sides, and her eyes were shut. With frustration, or with sadness, she didn’t know. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand taking her fisted hand and unclenching it. She didn’t need to open her eyes to see who it was. “I don’t need your pity.” Rhaenyra tried to sound snappy, but her voice was hoarse. You didn’t answer, instead intertwining your fingers with Rhaenyra. She reluctantly opened her eyes, only to see you directing a hostile glare to the outside commotion, as more and more voices heralded Aegon as the Second of His Name. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile at that, letting some of the tension seep out of her muscles.

At least there was someone in her dark and lonely corner, even if that someone’s trustworthiness had yet to be ascertained.

You were sitting next to Alicent, as she held court with the various noble ladies who had attended the hunt. You listened, silently sipping from your goblet as they conversed about the ongoing war in the Stepstones. You watched as Larys Strong and Rhaenyra soon joined in the conversation, though a slight frown of distaste was soon visible on your face, when Lady Lannister and Lady Redwyne in particular, began picking on Rhaenyra. You had to hide a smirk when Rhaenyra made a well-directed jab at Lady Redwyne, and the smirk only widened when you saw her pig-faced dog gobble greedily at the cake on her plate. How fitting.

“You know, Lady Y/N.” Your head snapped up as Lady Redwyne addressed you. She had a displeased look on her face: clearly she hadn’t missed your smirk at her expense. “I was…pleasantly surprised to hear Her Grace appointed you as her chief lady-in-waiting.” Your eyes narrowed, your dormant prickly nature coming to life once more. “It was a great honour, Lady Joselyn. One that I am greatly grateful to Her Grace for.”

Lady Redwyne gave you a smile, that you knew from all your years of court politics, was filled with ill intent. “I must say, if you were out in the battlefield fighting on the Stepstones, the war would be won by now.” You felt Alicent stiffen next to you, and you instinctively reached out to put your hand on hers. “What are you insinuating, Lady Redwyne?” Alicent’s tone was sharper than usual. Lady Redwyne attempted to school her features back to deference, but her lips were curved upwards. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I was not attempting to insinuate anything. It was a compliment to Lady Y/N.” You levelled a fierce glare at her, but she seemed unaffected, looking at you straight in the eye. “It is a well known fact that she and Prince Daemon had tempers that rivalled each other. With such willfulness, she would make a formidable opponent on the battlefield, would she not?”

You were about to deliver an equally cutting and backhanded response, but you were surprised when you heard Rhaenyra speak up once more, “Yes, Lady Redwyne. But as luck would have it, she is the Queen’s lady-in-waiting now.” Rhaenyra’s tone was acidic. “And I am certain that she will carry out her duties with skill and grace. The Queen will not be able to find someone as capable as her.”

The ladies were stunned that Rhaenyra had spoken up for you, none more so than you and Alicent. “The princess is right. Lady Y/N has been a dutiful lady-in-waiting and companion. The Seven have truly blessed me with her.” Your eyes water with gratitude, as Lady Redwyne and the other ladies fall silent after both the princess and the queen’s swift defence of you.

So this was what kinship felt like.

Night had fallen, and the air was ablaze with the smell of smoke. You had sat faithfully by Alicent all day, as she entertained lords and ladies alike. You had not seen Rhaenyra in quite some time though, and you worry about where she could have wandered off to. Your anxiety only increased tenfold when you saw Viserys’ goblet never straying from his hand, and he had been lifting it to his lips moreso after his conversations with the Hand, Jason Lannister, and Lyonel Strong, in particular. Alicent was clearly on edge as well, her brown eyes watchful as she witnessed her husband lose himself in his cups. When Viserys abruptly left the tent after a brief, yet intense conversation with Lyonel Strong, Alicent got up to go after him, but you gently pushed her back down to her seat, giving her a reassuring look. She should not need to see her husband in such a misbegotten state, while in her pregnancy, you thought to yourself, as you wrapped your shawl around you, shivering in the cold night air.

You eventually found Viserys by the huge bonfire, downing yet another goblet of wine, while being guarded by two Kingsguard. They nodded at you as you passed. You went straight to Viserys, taking the cup whilst he was distracted. “I think that’s enough for you tonight, Viserys.” Your voice was soft, yet firm. He gave you an enervated smile. “The night is cold, you shouldn’t be out here.” You hand the goblet over to a Kingsguard. “Who will look after you, then? And make sure you do not drink yourself into a stupor?” Viserys laughed heartily, before he coughed. You reach for him, concerned. He stared into the flames, looking like he wanted to step into them himself. “Y/N.” “Hmm?” Viserys took a deep breath, trying to control the slurring in his voice. “What do you think is the foundation of House Targaryen’s strength?”

You tilt your head to the side questioningly, “That is a trick question, right? Of course, the answer is House Targaryen’s dragons.” Viserys smiled ruefully, turning over to face you. You were taken aback by the blazing intensity, perhaps even madness in his eyes. “You’re wrong, Y/N. It began with a dream.” He turned back to face the fire. “When Daenys the Dreamer had the dream that prophesied the end of the Valyrian Freehold, that dream saved House Targaryen. While all the other dragonlords were destroyed, it was only us who survived.” “I know of that tale. Your grandsire told us that tale when we were younger.”

Viserys didn’t seem to hear you, however, his bleak gaze still on the fire. “In my line, many had been dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of dragons, next to the power of prophecy?” You shivered, and not because of the cold. Yet you continue listening. “When Rhaenyra was a child, I saw it in a dream. As vivid as these flames, I saw it. A male babe, born to me, wearing the Conqueror’s crown. And I so wanted it to be true, to be a dreamer myself. I sought that vision again, night after night…but it never came again. I poured all my thought and will into it. And my obsession killed Aemma.” You looked away at that, your heart wrenched with grief. “I thought Rhaenyra was the way out of my abyss of grief and regret. That naming her heir would set things right.”

“Are you saying you regret naming Rhaenyra heir then?” Viserys looked grieved. “Oftentimes, yes…I have. I worried that I had named Rhaenyra out of anger towards Daemon, not out of love, or for the good of the realm.” He moved to grip your shoulders, tears in his eyes. “Y/N, I never imagined that I would remarry. That I would have a son. What if…what if I was wrong all along?”

You stared into his despair-filled eyes. “I cannot tell you if you’re wrong, Viserys. There are only two paths ahead of you now, and as King, you must be prepared to take one, and soon.” Viserys chuckles, drooping his head. “What if I’m not sure what path I should take?” Your voice was quiet. “Then the realm will descend into chaos.”

The both of you were silent, staring at each other in the firelight. While you couldn’t say that you approved of Viserys’ decisions in the past three years, after all this, he was your friend, and he was just a mere mortal, plagued by regrets, grief, and hesitation. Just like you, and everyone else. Even kings were not infallible to weakness, you surmised. And in that moment, there was a mutual understanding and grievance shared between the both of you: the burden of choice.

The morrow brought about clear skies and sun, much to the delight of the lords partaking in the hunt. It did not alleviate your worries however, as Rhaenyra still had not returned to the encampment. You found yourself milling about today, much too tired to suffer the thinly veiled jabs the fellow noblewomen were directing at you about your infamous temper.

You were dressed in a simpler riding outfit today, to mingle around with the various smallfolk and merchants that had set up stalls in the encampment, hoping eagerly to attract some lord’s attention and earn a few gold dragons. You beamed as you sampled a rather delicious roast pork skewer, giving the stall owner - a rather plump woman - two golden dragons, much to her glee. You strode back to the main tent, feeling satisfied, when you suddenly heard the sound of hooves. You turned your head as a palomino horse skidded to a halt, and a familiar man, with more grey hairs than he had the last time you saw him, dismount from the horse and take off his riding gloves. His eyes light up as soon as he catches sight of you, and without giving you a window to escape, he strode towards you. You chew your lip in dread as he approached.

“Father.”

“Y/N.” He beams at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners. You smile awkwardly at him, fidgeting with your fingers. His smile falters a little when he notices your hesitation. “I haven’t seen you in years, daughter. Does this momentous occasion not warrant a hug?” You inwardly sigh, and reach out to embrace your father. Your father grins at you as you pull away after an awkward pause. “You have grown, daughter. You look beautiful.” “You flatter me, Father.” “Come, walk with me. We have much to talk about.” You swallowed, but followed as he set out for the forested edge of the campground.

The both of you strode in silence for a while, before you ventured to break the silence. “The King didn’t mention you would be joining us for the hunt, Father. Why the sudden change of heart?” He sighed. “Can an old man not choose to be in nature once in a while?” “Of course you can, father. I was just concerned: you are no longer in the pink of health, and riding all the way from Highgarden to the Kingswood is a gruelling journey.” Your father waved his hand dismissively. “Twas nothing. I might be getting on in my years, but I recently found a new source of reinvigoration.”

“Oh?” you cocked your head curiously. You sincerely hoped the new source of reinvigoration was not a new bid for your hand. Your father smiled, “I recently remarried to Lady Clarice of House Fossoway.” Seeing your confused look, he hurried to clarify. “Of Cider Hall.” Surprise creased your features. “But…wasn’t that Mother’s maiden house? Lady Clarice was her cousin, was she not?” Your father’s smile was beginning to look strained. “Does it matter, daughter? What matters is that I am happy with her, is it not? And I am certain she will give me strong sons soon.” You regard him with a degree of caution, noting the shift in his voice. In your years of dealing with court politics, you could instinctively tell when a situation was about to go from bad to worse. “I did not know you had any plans on remarrying after Mother’s death.”

“And whose fault is that, daughter?” Your father’s tone turned chiding. “I know you’ve been ignoring all the ravens I’ve sent to you over the past few years. Specifically, those with letters attached from me pleading for you to just find yourself a match at court or select one of the eligible lords in the lists I sent you.” You blushed, looking sheepish. Matthos sighed. “Daughter, you are no longer young. It is past time you are wed. I only want what’s best for you.”

“But-” you blurted out, “What if I don’t think getting married is what’s best for me, Father?” Your father looked askance at that. “What else could a young lady such as yourself desire other than marriage?” You bit your lip, “Father, the truth is…I do not think I have a desire to wed now…or ever.” You were beginning to get anxious as your father’s face lost some of his paternal tenderness. “Five years. I had hoped that our time apart had given you some time to reflect on your…misconceptions.” He gripped your shoulders, an intense blaze in his eyes as your heart began to thud with dread. “The matter of marriage is not one that you can dismiss so easily anymore, Y/N. It entails the survival and future of House Tyrell. You must do your duty and wed a respectable lord, for the sake of our house.” Though you had heard those words aplenty, today, it was like something uninhibited had seized control of you, as you burst out. “Why should I care about doing my duty to House Tyrell?” you snapped. “I have made it clear that it is not my intention to ever take a husband, now and in the foreseeable future. You claim this is all done for my own happiness. So why can’t you just respect my wishes?”

“Because you are not just some poxy peasant who can gallivant about as you please. You are my daughter!” You were shocked when your father suddenly raised his voice. Trepidation had dimmed your previous righteousness. He tightens his grip on your shoulders, his expression filled with an anger you had never glimpsed before. This…this was not the father you remember. The father you knew had never once raised his voice at you, always treating you with patience as his only child. Though he was prone to bouts of frustrated pleading when you did not acquiesce to his wishes to get married, he had never once shouted at you like that. Or even gripped your shoulders with such forcefulness you feared he might strike you. “You are just as useless as your late mother.” You were stunned, your eyes searing with hot tears. “Do not insult Mother like that. She was the most wonderful woman-” “Wonderful, you say?” your father snorted. “If she were so wonderful, then she would have provided me with a strong and healthy son to succeed me! Instead, she left me with a daughter who is ungrateful and strangely determined to remain a spinster all her life.” he spat out the words with such vitriol that you were taken aback. “If she were so wonderful,” your father continued with his rant. “Then would House Tyrell be in imminent danger of collapsing, all because the only heirs I have are your incompetent, doltish cousins who will run the legacy our ancestors and I have built to the ground?” He moved to clasp your hand tightly in his, looking desperate and angry all at once. “Daughter, your father is imploring you. You must get wed, and provide me with a grandson. You cannot let House Tyrell go to ruin.” You stare at him, feeling beleaguered. “Do my wishes mean nothing to you?” “This is because your wishes are obscenely unreasonable, Y/N.” your father snaps. “It is practically unheard of for a woman of your status to not wed.” “It is not!” you insisted, “I am the chief lady-in-waiting to the Queen now, I have duties I must perform. And there have been histories of lords whose daughters were largely spinsters. Moreover, you have remarried.” Your voice became desperate as you tried to make your father see reason. “Lady Clarice is young, she will give you many sons in due time. Suitable heirs to Highgarden. I do not understand why you are putting all this pressure on me.” You took a deep breath, preparing to make your final stand. “I want to enjoy the rest of my youth, Father. Not to sit in a castle, entrapped in a loveless marriage and pumping out potential heirs for my husband and for you. I want to live my life, free of constraints.” You looked at him, unshed tears in your eyes. “Please, father. This is the one thing I have ever asked of you, and that is to respect my wishes.”

Matthos was silent for a long while, and you held hope, briefly, that you might have gotten through to him with your pleading. “Foolish, insolent girl!” Your hopes were dashed as your father flung off your hand, shouting at you. “How can you be so selfish? To not take responsibility in ensuring the continuation of our house’s line?” “That is your responsibility, not mine!” you shouted back. Seeing that pleas would not get to your father now, you resorted to fighting fire with fire instead. “Had you really cared about continuing our house’s bloodline, you would’ve remarried years ago!” You could see how your shouts were drawing the attention of some courtiers, given how close the both of you were to the camp for royals. You heard the faint sound of hooves behind you, but you ignored them, too engrossed in your argument with your father. “Producing heirs is a lord’s responsibility. So if you are accusing me of not doing my duty, you should first be reprimanding yourself.”

Your father’s face grew red. “You little brat! How dare you say these things about your father!” “I spoke only the truth,” you shot back. He raised his hand, and for a moment you were afraid he was going to slap you for your outburst. Instead, he went to grip your shoulders again, “For years, I have raised you, clothed you in the finest silks, fed you, and put up with your ridiculous whims and wants! I’ve been patient, I’ve been loving and understanding when you rejected all the marriage offers you received. I’ve pleaded, and even given you the time and freedom to find a more suitable match at court. Yet you cannot even perform your duty as my daughter. No longer.” Your heart stuttered a little. “What do you mean?” Your father gave you a cold look. “I’m saying, if you do not get married by the end of the year, you are no longer my daughter.” Your eyes widen with horror. “I will effectively disown and disinherit you from House Tyrell, and if I sire any children by Lady Clarice, they shall not support you either.”

Your voice was tremulous, “Father, you…you cannot be serious. Do not let your anger cloud your judgement.” Matthos Tyrell looked at his daughter, his face one of disgust. “You wanted to enjoy your youth without constraints. And since you seem to enjoy being lady-in-waiting to the Queen so much, I’m only granting you what you wished for, am I not?”

You stepped back, feeling winded by your father’s words. However, you nearly jumped when you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Ah, Y/N!” You were not sure whether you felt more mortified or relieved for Viserys’ timely presence. “Your Grace!” Immediately, your father’s distaste gave way to deference, as he straightened his posture and bowed before the King. You inclined your head respectfully, wondering if Viserys had overheard your conversation. “Forgive me for interrupting your conversation.” Oh, he definitely overheard.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Your Grace. I am delighted to be in your presence.” Your father gushed on profusely, as Viserys stepped toward him. You hung your head, still abashed by your father’s threats, when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder once more. Alicent smiled at you understandingly, and you grimaced when you realised she had also overheard the unpleasant exchange. Still, you shot her a grateful look for her show of support.

“I must offer you my sincerest felicitations for Prince Aegon’s second nameday, Your Grace.” Viserys laughed, “Your felicitations are greatly appreciated, Lord Matthos. I must extend you mine as well, for your recent remarriage. I see it is treating you well.” Your father beamed, “You are too kind, Your Grace. And indeed, my lady wife pleases me so. Now, the only thing that would make me the happiest man in the realm would be my daughter finally settling down with a respectable match.” You stiffened at that, something Alicent took notice of, and she offered you a sympathetic look. Viserys chuckled, “That you and I can both agree on, Lord Matthos. There is nothing more I desire right now than seeing Rhaenyra being wed to a deserving man who will treat her right.”

“Oh, I am sure Her Grace will have her pick of men. She is ‘The Realm’s Delight’, after all. Any man who weds her will be a lucky one.” Your father’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone, as he glanced at you. “Moreover, Her Grace is young, comely, and lovely to behold.” Matthos sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled, “Mine own daughter is not in possess of such qualities, I’m afraid. She is getting on with her years, and though I love her deeply, as her father, I must admit she has quite a temper on her. She's not quite the attractice match, which gives me a headache,” Matthos jested with the King, causing you to wince and look away. Alicent looked disconcerted at your father’s tasteless jesting, tightening her hold on your shoulder. However, the both of you did not notice the flare of annoyance behind Viserys’ eyes, so his next words surprised the both of you.

“Lady Y/N has been nothing but a delight to have at court, Lord Matthos. In spite of her age, I’m sure she has no shortage of suitors.” Viserys’ voice was amiable, polite, yet it carried an undertone of firmness and reprimand such that Matthos looked a little stunned, worried that he had overstepped. You looked back to the pair, your eyes wide with disbelief. “And should Y/N ever find herself unwilling to marry, the Red Keep will always welcome her. She is like family to me, after all.” Your father fell silent, and you locked eyes with Viserys, looking lost, yet appreciative all the same. Viserys gave you a reassuring smile, and you could see the sincerity behind his intent. Your eyes prickled with touched tears, but the moment was interrupted when you heard shouts across the campground, startling your party. You turned around, only to behold the sight of Rhaenyra, stained head to toe with dried blood, a commanding aura in her swagger as her sworn shield, Ser Criston, trailed behind her, along with two servants carrying a dead boar. You lock eyes with her momentarily, and she gives a small nod of acknowledgement to you, although her eyes turned cold when they looked upon her father. You heard Viserys sigh, and you saw how Viserys looked both annoyed and relieved for Rhaenyra’s safety, while your father just looked bewildered, perhaps even a little scared. Despite yourself, you smiled a little at the scene.

Alicent and you were chatting in her chambers, laughing in hushed tones as you rocked Aegon to sleep in your arms, when the Hand entered the room, requesting to speak with Alicent. You handed a sleepy Aegon to his nursemaid, before curtsying and exiting the room, painfully aware of the Hand’s weighty gaze upon you as you did.

Alicent knew that her father had not visited her out of a gesture of goodwill, and as she listened to his rather maddening reasoning that Alicent should attempt to make her husband see reason and name Aegon heir, she only stayed silent. There was no point in countering back anyway - the Hand always seemed to have a dozen other reasons to quell her opposition. She felt uncomfortable, for speaking of this was treason, and the babe shifted in her belly, causing her to sigh.

Otto observed his daughter, noting with mild exasperation that she wasn’t paying heed to anything he was saying. So, he decided to change the subject. “About your lady-in-waiting…” he began. Alicent’s head snapped up, “What do you wish to discuss of Y/N?” Otto let a smile play over his lips: it was quite evident his daughter cared for the Tyrell lady, and from his further observations over the past three years, treated her akin to a maternal figure. Which might make it easier for her to accept what he proposed next. “I overheard a rather…interesting conversation she had, with Lord Matthos today.” Alicent showed no visible reaction, but she stared at her father, feeling an all-too-familiar feeling of dread settle in her gut. “I think half the campground overheard their argument. What of it?”

Otto hummed softly, “It seems her father is worrying about her marriage. Which is a reasonable worry - she is on the cusp of her twenty fifth nameday, is she not?” Alicent nodded slowly, eyeing her father with caution. She knew him all too well, how he was tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair - he was scheming. She recalled how upset you were when you spoke with your father, citing your dreams to enjoy your youth and be freed of the constraints of marriage. In later years, she had come to both see you as a cherished companion and a parental figure of sorts, and she cared for you, deeply so. You were her only source of comfort in the Red Keep, one who did not expect or demand anything of her, someone she felt she could truly be open with. She glanced fearfully at her father.

She had to put an end to this. She must save you from suffering the same fate she did.

“Father…you are not planning on taking a new wife, are you?” Alicent fidgeted with her fingers nervously, her eyes fixed on Otto. He was quiet for a long while, and in response to her question, he only stood up and went over to his daughter, placing a hand on her swollen belly. His cryptic answer disturbed Alicent. “You worry too much over matters that do not need worrying about, daughter. Your concern now, should be Aegon. Raise him well, and raise him strong. He shall be an important man one day.”

Come the morrow, the Godswood was completely devoid of any life. Which proved to be a boon to you, who was seeking some reprieve from the busy atmosphere of the Red Keep and the somewhat maddening task of having to feed Aegon - due to his tendency of smooshing the food in the face of whomever had the misfortune of feeding him, most commonly you.

You sat on the stone bench, staring despondently at the Godswood tree. While you were never particularly religious, either to the Seven or to the Old Gods, the happenings of the hunt have driven you to pray with increasing fervency these days. What you prayed for, you did not know. Was it for the hope that your father’s heart might soften and he might be persuaded to leave you be for the rest of your life? You scoffed to yourself, knowing how improbable it was. Fiddling with the pendant - Aemma’s pendant, you sighed, tilting your head downwards to the ground.

You were startled when you heard movement next to you, of another soul taking a seat next to you on the bench, her posture ramrod straight, and her expression blank. Rhaenyra’s linen sleeves fluttered slightly in the breeze.

“I suppose neither of us are in the best of spirits,” Rhaenyra’s voice was stilted, like she was reluctant to break the silence first. You lifted your head upright, looking at her with a tentative smile, “No, I suppose we aren’t.” An awkward silence highlighted the chasm between the two of you. You wondered, had this truly been the girl of fourteen who confided in you about everything? Now, it seems there is a stark contrast to the Rhaenyra you once knew to the Rhaenyra before you. Though of course, you were to be blamed for that.

“My father has just ordered me to embark on a tour of the realm. A marriage tour.” Rhaenyra’s bitter tone roused you from your thoughts. “I do not know why I’m telling you this. Perhaps it’s because you are the only person in the Keep who might have the slightest sympathy for what I’m going through.” Rhaenyra’s voice lowered to a slightly malicious pitch, but there was no disguising the hurt behind her voice. “Or maybe it would be false sympathy. But it is better than none.”

You winced, wanting to reach out and take Rhaenyra’s hand, the way you knew she loved. Physical touch was Rhaenyra’s favourite way of receiving and expressing affection. A wane smile pulled at your lips as you heard her words, “You might be cynical, but I have more sympathies to your plight than you might think, Princess.” Rhaenyra was surprised by the resignation in your tone. She recalled the scene she had seen when she returned to the royal encampment at the hunt that day. “...does it have something to do with your father?”

You let out a sad laugh, “Indeed. I have been forced into a situation much more precarious than yours, I would say. My father has given me an ultimatum: I must wed by the end of this year, or I shall be effectively disinherited and disowned as a member of House Tyrell.” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, her stance immediately shifting to one of sympathy and guilt. “Does your father jest?” “I’m afraid not,” you remark with a despaired, cynical laugh, “Father’s patience has worn thin when it comes to me, I’m afraid. I should’ve known it foolish to think that I could escape from the ramifications of duty to my House.”

You were a little mortified to find your eyes prickling with tears. In truth, you were frightened to the bone. Two paths were set in stone before you now, and neither were pleasant. Rhaenyra hesitated for a while, before reaching out to take your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. You were startled by her sudden gesture, as the flood of familiarity rushed through your veins. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “This is a horrible situation to find yourself in.” She looked hesitant, “I know you’ve always been of your own mind, Y/N. I just want you to know…that you are not alone. Should the worst come…I’m sure that my father will not turn you away in your hour of need.” Her lips turned upwards wistfully, “I will not too. The both of us are stuck in similar predicaments, are we not? Daughters forced to marry off at our father’s behest. We must stick together.”

“...thank you,” you said quietly, touched, “I do not deserve your kindness, after all I have hidden from you.” Rhaenyra’s smile turns somewhat bitter, “What is done cannot be undone. What matters now is the future.”

The cool metal of Aemma’s pendant dug into the flesh of your palm, as an idea came to you. “I have something for you,” Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes grew misty as you presented the ruby falcon pendant to her. “I think this belongs to you. I’ve been holding onto it for the past few years, but I think it’s time you have it back.” Rhaenyra takes the pendant, clasping it to her chest as she looked mournfully down at it. “I thought it was naught but ashes now.” You bit your lip, seeing how relieved yet pained Rhaenyra looked made you regret not giving it to her sooner. You had clung onto it for selfish reasons over the past few years, unwilling to let go of Aemma. But now, you felt it was time to let go of the past, and brave on into the future. “I hope that having this piece of Aemma would make you feel more comforted on your marriage tour.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes were misty, as she clasped the pendant like it was worth all the spice and gold from the shores of Essos. “Y/N.” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Hmm?” “Do you think…that Mother would’ve been proud of the person I am today?” Rhaenyra swallowed, looking downcast. “...I fear that, ever since I was named heir, since…Aegon was born, Father’s disappointment in me has been growing by the day.” “And why would you think that?” you asked, concerned. Rhaenyra took a shaky inhale, “I know that Father did not name me heir out of choice. It was a critical time, after Daemon had left, and the Realm would be plunged into unease upon the disinheritance of my uncle from the line of succession.” She bit her lip. “Father even told me as much. He said he had wavered at the notion of making me heir.” Your eyes flickered with shock and a little bit of righteous anger. “He said that?” Rhaenyra nodded miserably, and you patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. “He told me he would never waver again, but it is a little hard to put my faith in that, with….with Aegon’s shadow looming over me.” Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head upwards. ”I just…I wish I could do something to be better. To prove to Father that I’m not just the right choice to the throne because he named me heir when he had no choice. I want to show him that I possess the qualities to rule the throne. The marriage tour would be a start, but I just detest the idea of having to bind myself to some lord to prove my worthiness to the throne.”

“I understand how you feel,” you commiserated, and she rested her head on your shoulder. “The expectations of a woman’s duty often cast a shadow over our lives.” Rhaenyra closed her eyes, feeling at ease with you, even if it were just for a brief moment. “Mother was fond of saying that marriage is a woman’s duty, and childbed is our battlefield. Especially as royal women,” Rhaenyra’s voice was thick with emotion. “I understand I must do this, for the good of the realm, but…why is it so terrifying? To have my worth determined on my husband and the number of children I can bear in service to him and the realm.” The setting sun glistened off a tear slowly making its way down Rhaenyra’s cheek. “Y/N, do you think my mother would be proud, watching me doubt her teachings?”

You reached out to wipe her tear away, your other hand’s thumb gently stroking her hand that you still held. “You are her daughter, Rhaenyra. I have no doubt that you could be the most dastardly miscreant, and she would be proud of you nonetheless.” That got a bleak smile from Rhaenyra, “Truly?” You nodded your confirmation, smiling fondly down at her. “Truly. Though luckily, your moral character is rather upright.” Rhaenyra laughed, and you smiled, happy to have made her laugh. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Rhaenyra whispered to you.

The two women stayed like this in the Godswood for a while, each swarmed by their own thoughts. So different, yet so similar in their impending doom, and duty.

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A/N: All I gotta say is: ruh roh, trouble is brewing. If you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. I aim to release chapter 8 by next Wednesday, hopefully something unprecedented doesn't happen before then though.

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