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storiesoflilies · 11 months ago

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crimson reverie

synopsis: the gods had forbidden him from her, but they could not stop her from following the trail of pomegranate seeds that led her straight to him. w.c: 13k

pairing: hades!ryomen sukuna x persephone!f!reader.

warnings: trueform!sukuna. descriptions of bruising and choking (not the good kind). mentions of smut and greek mythology incest. sfw, but MDNI!

a/n: this piece was requested by the lovely @pinknipszz ! i want to thank my darling @neptuneblue for beta reading, and also to those who donated (@ficsforgaza) towards this fic!! you’re all very loved <3 (ao3)

it was spring, and everything was golden.

from the barley stalks swaying in the gentle breeze, their prickly feather heads tickling her as persephone ran her hands through them, to the light of helios’ sun as it made its way across the sky, to the dripping honeycomb offerings left for her at the edge of the fields from the local villagers.

life was golden, iridescent, and precious, and it was good.

birds chittered in the trees, and the smell of freshly churned soil and evening jasmine wafted through the air. it was the end of a hard day’s work for persephone, and though there was still much more to be done for the mortals that lived in this remote area, that was a task for tomorrow. for now, all she wanted was to do as she pleased.

and that was to wander through her meadows of narcissus flowers, bathe in freshwater pools of starlight, and feast on pomegranates while she rested beneath the trees that bore them. she would sleep underneath those very trees, with moonlight shining through the gaps in the leaves, tenderly kissing her brow. her meadow was her haven, on the edge of a deep, green forest, where only her playful little nymphs kept her company.

even now, persephone could hear the sweet moans of their lovemaking carried along the breeze, and she sighed in exasperation. she knew they would only reach out to her with sticky fingers and sparkling adoration, begging her to join them. they craved her so badly, yearning to offer her a different sort of ecstasy that nature could not, but persephone would not join them. she never would, for her mother demeter had forbidden her from ever corrupting her purity and from doing anything that might throw her virtue into question.

persephone was to remain a beautiful blossom that could only be gazed upon, but never ever touched.

and so, she avoided the shaded part of the meadow that met the outskirts of the forest, where the nymphs loved to congregate, and went to her favorite pomegranate tree where she would not be disturbed. persephone crouched down underneath her tree, stretching out like a feline catching the last warm rays of the day on its belly, saccharine and ostentatiously content. a light doze fell upon her quickly, her breaths coming out in light puffs, with the sounds of the birds twittering her a lullaby.

“dearest daughter, how lazy you are, napping at this hour when it is not even nightfall!”

her eyelids fluttered open as the golden light behind them turned black, the sunlight blocked by the overarching figure of her mother. with her rose-bloom shoulder, hulking figure intertwined with vines and branches, and a voice only audible through the mind, demeter inspired more fear in mortals than she should have. to them, she was a great and terrible protector of nature, and this greatly saddened persephone.

in her eyes, her dearest mother, known only to her as hanami, would always be beautiful and tender.

“i think it’s warranted after a hard days work, mother,” persephone yawned, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head.

hanami tilted her head in amusement, tiny red rose petals falling as she did so. “your humble work tires you greatly. your power has not grown as i expected it to in the time since i last visited you.”

persephone pursed her lips, avoiding direct eye contact with her mother, and replied with a stiff jaw, “it is has grown, mother. but there are many poor mortals living in these villages. hundreds of their fields need to be nurtured with my touch, otherwise they will not grow.”

she didn’t think her mother understood. demeter only cultivated the holy nature of the gods, the grand gardens of greek royalty, while persephone travelled far and wide across greece to ensure even the most remote places had a bountiful harvest. so that even the poorest of worshippers went about their lives content with full bellies and golden fields of barley. persephone knew that the other gods looked down on her, sometimes even hanami, thinking that all she would ever surmount to was a nymph tending to the flower beds of peasants.

her mother wanted to uphold that lowly picture of her beloved daughter, to avoid the attention of the other gods, and persephone accepted it. but if demeter didn’t understand that there was good, honest work to be done ensuring the welfare of lesser mortals, then persephone would still continue with the duty she had charged herself with regardless.

and so, she avoided her mother’s sharp gaze, lest she would see the spark of defiance in her eyes. a defiance for the confines of the cage that was her mothers love, and it seemed to be growing stronger with each passing day.

persephone felt demeter’s heavy hand on her head, its weight almost too rough as she stroked her affectionately. her mother’s chuckle reverberated through her head. “perhaps one day you will eventually be nearly as strong as i, my blossom, so you may continue to rest. i will not disturb your peace any longer.”

her defiance crumbled, and she felt guilty, because her mother did love her despite everything. “oh mother, you could never disturb my peace.”

a loud cry of ecstasy came from a distance, and hanami looked up, her lip curling in displeasure. “you’re too sweet, persephone. but rest well, and do not let the nymphs come anywhere near you tonight.”

persephone watched on as her mother called upon her nature, her fingers bending and beckoning the vines and narcissus as if they were long-lost lovers. within a moment, demeter was enveloped in a blanket of green and white, with only her face and neck visible.

“your father misses you, you know?” hanami murmured, almost fearfully. “he wishes to see you.”

her father zeus, satoru gojo as he was called by his brothers and sisters, was as unpredictable as the lightning he wielded with his bare hands. they were all at the mercy of his passing whims, something her mother knew well, as persephone was the product of one of his said whims. demeter tried to keep them both apart as much as possible, because she knew she could not keep satoru from having persephone if his attention settled on her for too long.

however, she also could not outright refuse the king of the gods either.

“then i shall see him,” persephone sighed. “i will go to olympus.”

“we shall go, my blossom. i would not let you face him alone. i will come for you in a fortnight, so be ready.”

and with that, demeter disappeared. persephone sighed loudly, slumping back onto the grass. although demeter held no ill will towards her brother, she understood that the gods were not like mortals, especially zeus, and did not bind or limit themselves to their marriage vows – much to hera’s rage for zeus’ many lovers. she had passed this sentiment on to her daughter many times, despite being an olympian herself.

“the gods of olympus are fickle, ever-changing, and that in itself is predictable. never stay in their company for too long.”

persephone never liked to visit olympus anyway. the gods were so very loud, ostentatious, and always bragging about the legendary achievements of themselves and their offspring. moreover, while her mothers love was endearing, it was also suffocating at the best of times. she knew demeter was always watching her every move with eagle eyes, daring any of the gods to try and come near her daughter.

save for artemis, her dearest maki, nobody else was allowed to say more than a few words to persephone.

she sighed dejectedly once more and turned over, plucking a particularly beautiful narcissus flower from beside her. with a long, slender stem, its orange center surrounded by snowy white petals, persephone admired its beauty as she leaned her back against the trunk of her pomegranate tree.

“mother will see sense one day,” she hummed, musingly, as she plucked a petal from the flower. “that i will become a goddess worthy of olympus, and do not need her protection.”

another petal plucked. “she won’t ever, and will hover over me for eternity.”

pluck!

“she will.”

pluck!

“she won’t.”

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

it was close to midnight, and persephone could not sleep.

she spent what seemed like an age staring up at the moon, committing all of its ridges and craters to memory. if she squinted hard enough, she could make out selene’s silver and pearl chariot pulling it across the sky, her pale white horses snorting and charging through the stars of the night. beside her, the nymphs softly sighed and turned in their sleep, their nimble legs and arms entangled with each other, embracing persephone in a comforting hug to try and lull her to sleep. but it hadn’t worked this time; there was too much on her mind.

it had been ten days since she last seen her mother, and persephone’s nerves were becoming more frayed by the minute. in her meager three centuries of living, demeter had never once been hesitant about her meeting zeus. something must have changed, but what exactly, she couldn’t guess.

persephone felt a flush of warmth, the nymphs’ heat suddenly becoming too much for her to bear, and gently unwound herself from their grasp. the fresh night caressed the bare skin of her arms in a cool kiss of relief as she tip-toed through the small gaps between the scattered nymphs.

she broke into a light run across the meadow, her bare feet softly thudding against the grass, and her white toga billowing behind her as she headed to the refuge of her pomegranate tree. the narcissus were squeezed shut, as if the light of the moon bitterly stung them if they looked at it. persephone giggled, and with a tender wave of her slender fingers, the flowers unfurled their delicate petals, and their little golden faces turned towards their goddess.

she had made a meadow of minuscule suns amidst the midnight blackness of the sky. it was a small miracle, something that she could witness and cherish alone. persephone almost wanted to weep with joy, because she couldn’t remember the last time she used her own power to bring herself happiness. a particularly beautiful flower called to something deep inside her soul, and she couldn’t help but reach over and pluck it from the ground. she tenderly cradled it in her palm, cooing and whispering sweet nothings to it as she spied another gorgeous bloom, and plucked it too.

and another.

and another two beside it.

she picked and picked until a whole armful was practically overflowing from her arms, somehow weaving themselves into a delicate long dress that trailed behind her as she walked back to her tree. persephone laughed, carefree and as light as birds feathers, wrapping her indulgence around her like silk. tonight, she would sleep on a bed of flowers, and nobody could say anything to stop her.

the flowers dropped to the ground at the foot of the tree, as if a magic gust of wind had told them to arrange themselves into the perfect blanket for persephone to lay on. she dropped to her knees and laid out, rubbing the apples of her cheeks against the petals.

that was when she saw him.

he stood there, his looming figure visible from this distance, and his eyes.

oh, his eyes.

four of them there were. she didn’t need to strain to see them; they glowed iridescently, shimmering like blood-red rubies that reminded her of a deep bowl of pomegranate seeds. a promise of a messy feast, dripping messily from her chin onto her hands, coating them in red, red, red.

persephone instinctively sat up, her body going rigid, as if the very essence of her life had left her. the stranger stalked towards her, and in the light of selene, his form became clearly visible. he was a god, that much was clear, for his large body was adorned with the black markings of death, seeming to swirl and move by a trick of the moonlight. he had two pairs of arms, one of which carried an obsidian bident that whispered of violence and horror.

this was undeniably hades, the god of the underworld himself.

persephone knew who he was because hermes had told her stories of his frequent descents to the underworld, whenever her mother wasn’t around, of course. of how hades sat atop a throne of black diamonds, with the viscous cerberus at his feet, unfeeling and unforgiving as hermes guided both the lucky and unlucky souls to wherever hades had judged them to go.

why was he here? hades was known to reside in his halls of blood and bones, and never left it. the last time he had even been to olympus was sometime before she was born. he stood before her now, looking down at her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. his lower pair of eyes were flicking back and forth between different parts of her, as if sizing her up. she stared up into his eyes, her heart hammering against her ribcage like a trapped bird.

“do not look at me that way,” the god rumbled, his voice carrying something ancient, as old as the depths of the earth. he was carved from war, a god who had struck down titans, and it was obvious.

persephone’s heart skipped a beat, and she clenched her fist, accidentally crushing a poor narcissus. “in what way?”

“as if i was about to strike you down this instant,” hades replied, his tone resonating with chilling authority.

her eyes flicked pointedly to his bident. “why else are you here then, lord hades?”

hades glowered at her, seemingly displeased, and tightly gripped his bident before throwing it a distance away, never taking his eyes off of her. “better?” he asked sneeringly, a slither of fire, and squatted down right in front of her.

she could only nod her head, his proximity alarming and unnerving her. despite him lowering himself, hades still looked down on her, looming over persephone with the promise of death.

“so,” he started, his tongue swiping over his lips. “you’re my brother’s elusive daughter.” persephone gaped, shocked he even knew of her existence, and hades chuckled darkly. “hermes likes to talk, especially to me.”

he grinned, a hint, no promise of madness, like knowing the grass would be kissed by water droplets overnight. she knew she had to tread carefully as she stared into his eyes, and accepting that she may not survive this night completely unscathed. hades adjusted himself into a sitting position, his powerful legs crossed over each other, his movements causing persephone to flinch. he rolled his eyes, displeasure flashing in them again.

“i must say, you look nothing like satoru,” he continued, his bottom eyes still observing her so very closely. “definitely not like my sister either.”

persephone asked, perhaps foolishly, naively, “does that please you?”

with a flash of crimson and jasmine-scented air, heat rose to her cheeks. she placed her hands delicately on her lap, as if behaving more placidly and curling in on herself would save her from him. hades tilted his head amusingly at her, pink-peach curls rolling to the side.

he knew she was inexperienced, clearly reveled in it, soaking himself in it, dipping his fingers in and licking them clean.

persephone hated it.

and unexpectedly, she hated her mother for making her so inexperienced, for sheltering her, and pruning her so that she was always prim and proper.

his crimson eyes flashed mirthfully, lips curling upwards. “you care what pleases me, little flower?”

hades’ words only added to her inner turmoil of embarrassment, and she refused to allow him even a glimpse of her vulnerability. so, persephone maintained a somewhat composed exterior, refusing to answer, and a fragile silence enveloped them, save for the hum of crickets in the bushes. hades turned his attention elsewhere, supporting his chin with one of his hands, seemingly gracing her the dignity of not responding to his taunt.

“a goddess should not be fraternizing so closely with mortals,” he said suddenly, a sour look on his features. “especially a daughter of zeus.”

“i do not mix with them,” persephone corrected gently. “it is my duty to help their grains grow.”

hades scoffed, white fangs flashing in the silver moonlight, and one of his smaller eyes fixed solely on her. “your duty, or the one placed upon you by demeter? you should know, mortals do not deserve the power of a goddess.”

persephone didn’t know what to make of the god of the dead. here he was, never having met her before, yet referred to her as a goddess, as if she belonged on olympus drinking ambrosia with the rest of her family. she felt somewhat honored, acknowledged, that hades seemed to be able to see her meager power for what it was worth.

“why do you think they are so undeserving?” persephone asked rather curiously. “they worship the very ground we walk on, pray to us, and turn to us in times of need. have they not earned our help?”

"sweet little flower, they would defile and hurt you the very first chance they got. mortals are ugly, infesting creatures that care for nothing except themselves. they serve only as a means to an end for my kingdom."

the grass underneath hades suddenly wilted, as if he had let his power run free for just a moment. something seemed to have snapped in him, something dark. for whatever reason, he seemed to loathe the very souls that inhabited his kingdom. perhaps he had judged them for far too long, had heard and seen all they had done in their short little lives, and deemed the lot of them unworthy of anything good at all.

and still, hades would carry out his duty and pass judgment, allowing the very same mortals who shirked and shunned his name to avoid his attention to pass onto a happier afterlife if they so deserved it. she couldn’t imagine how spiteful she would grow to be if the villagers trampled on the barley she grew for them.

despite her initial apprehension, it made her heart ache for him.

it was pure instinct, but persephone reach out and placed a narcissus right next to one of his hands.

all of his four crimson eyes were fixed on her, and she felt another flush of heat wash over her body. how strange, she imagined being close to death would be like ice, cold and empty, instead of fire and the rushing of her godly blood through her veins and arteries.

“you are a strange one,” hades murmured, pinching the stem between his fingers, sniffing the bloom almost suspiciously with his nose upturned. “tell me your name.”

“hermes did not tell you?”

“he is a trickster, and speaks in riddles. he would not give your name to me willingly.”

“then it is persephone, but my mother calls me kore.”

“and what do you prefer to be known as, little flower?”

she hesitated for a moment. “persephone.”

hades repeated her name, tasting it on his tongue and between his teeth, in the same way she savored a gem of pomegranate seed.

was it sweet to him?

something told her that it was.

the ghost of a smile played on his lips, something old and perhaps long since forgotten until this moment. hades stood up, brushing the dead blades of grass from his toga. “well, persephone, i must leave you. i cannot be away from my kingdom for too long.”

she understood that. the underworld was his home the way the fields of golden barley was hers. but why hades had even come to the surface, persephone didn't understand, and perhaps never would. "farewell, hades."

"ryomen," he correct, almost insistently, one pair of his arms folded over his broad chest in a display of strength. or was it vulnerability? perhaps protecting his heart from that which would seek to harm it? “you may call me ryomen."

with that, the earth beneath his feet cracked and split open, and a deafening rumbling reverberated through her eardrums as she clapped her hands to cover her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. when she opened them again, the god of the dead had all but disappeared.

persephone could not help but feel a touch of disappointment.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

demeter was enraged.

it had only taken a single whiff for her to mother to know. she could sense the unmistakable aura of her brother, the essence of death clinging to persephone like a shroud. it was a like a smell that permeated every crevice of her body, one that no amount of scrubbing or soaking could wash away.

"how dare he approach you?" demeter seethed, gripping persephone's face so tightly she thought her bones would crack. "did you encourage him? have the nymphs corrupted you? did you lay with him?”

"n-no, mother," persephone sputtered, struggling against demeter’s hold, her feet wriggling as they dangled uselessly in the air. "i would never do so."

demeter's wrath was rare but quick to build, like dried kindling catching fire, "you lie," she sneered, teeth bared in a snarl as she shook her. "you must have done something to entice him to approach you."

“ah! no, hanami!” she cried, milky-white tears falling like shining pearls from her eyes. “i never encouraged him once!”

her mother scoffed cruelly and dropped her to the ground in an ungraceful heap, pacing erratically back and forth as she muttered to herself, “zeus will hear of this! oh yes, he must be told at once.”

persephone painfully rubbed her cheekbones, feeling a dull ache spreading throughout her face. the trees of the forest were screaming bloody murder whirled madly in a chaotic dance, the very essence of nature responding to her mother’s rage. vine tendrils lashed angrily like whips of fire, and persephone flinched to avoid being struck. she had seen this sort of anger before, always directed at foolish mortals who dared to lay a finger against nature.

but never her. never once had it been against her.

it shifted something within her, and persephone knew it would never go back to where it belonged. she had done everything her mother asked her whole life, been obedient, never complaining as she followed her rules and carried out her duties. as the tendrils of resentment tightened around her like poison, persephone was beginning to understand one thing.

nothing would ever be enough to please demeter.

(somewhere in her meadow, a narcissus petal fell, and the god of the dead stirred in his throne.)

eventually, demeter’s rage calmed, like a hurricane settling into a somewhat pleasant sea breeze. she looked at persephone, who hoped to sense some semblance of remorse or even sheepishness for what her mother had just done. yet, there was nothing – only the remnants of simmering anger, now settled enough for demeter to think clearly.

“forgive me,” demeter murmured, placing a stiff hand upon her head. “you are still young, and i must protect you from the gods. they would only seek to corrupt you, especially hades.”

and what about you? what about zeus?

but persephone said nothing except, “there is nothing to forgive,” the sting of a lie thickening her voice. “i understand.”

even though she most certainly did not understand, for hanami should know better than anyone that persephone was good and pure, and would never actively encourage any of the gods of olympus – or underworld , for that matter – from pursuing her.

she should have known.

and so her apology meant nothing, for it was obviously false.

the fire in persephone’s godly blood was igniting into something foreign, something full of fury, something maybe even ugly, but she didn’t care. not anymore.

demeter knelt down in front of her daughter, pinching her chin and placing a kiss on her brow. “fret not, kore. i will speak with zeus tomorrow when we visit him. let us deal with hades.”

a flash of fear made persephone’s bones tremble at the thought. she very much doubted the power of nature would stand a chance against the underworld and all the death in it, against hades himself.

against ryomen.

with a gust of wind and falling rose petals, demeter vanished into the forest in a purposeful flurry of energy, leaving the shattered pieces of herself for persephone to pick up and put back together. the nymphs peeked out their frightened faces from behind the bushes they had hidden in, taking in persephone’s crumpled figure with a mixture of apprehension and pity. they had been the initial target of demeter’s wrath, for they had failed to keep an eye on their goddess and call for demeter when she was needed.

a mistake they would not be repeating again.

she felt the dark vines of her cage tighten, closing in on her more, and persephone knew it would be rare for her to get any sort of alone time from this moment onwards.

“come,” persephone whimpered, barely above a whisper. “i must tend to the fields.”

she collected herself from the ground, dusting the dirt from herself, and began her familiar walk to the barley fields, with the nymphs trailing not too far behind. the birds were whistling stories of things that had happened in the night, and the bees were flitting about in between the honeysuckle flowers. persephone wished she was one of them; drinking in nothing but sugary sweetness all day, and still being known for her sting.

the mortals kept away from persephone as she worked. they were grateful people, gifting her with more honeycomb and burning incense in her name. she could smell it in the air, a smoky mystery; powerful and deep. her thoughts trailed back to ryomen, and what he had said about the mortals. persephone didn't believe these men would hurt her, but what if they did?

what sort of punishment would defiling a goddess warrant in death? what sort of things would hades do to them if they even so much as touched her?

would he mercilessly set his vicious cerberus on to them, or would he do it himself? relentlessly rip them apart until they were only ribbons of flesh, and suck their blood from his fingers with a grin on his face, only to put them back together and do it all over again.

persephone almost didn’t want to know.

and yet, she did. with a sick and twisted fascination that was a small seedling sprouting inside her.

when the sun almost touched the horizon, persephone wiped her brow and halted the flow of her power into the fields. she was done for the day, bone-weary both emotionally and physically, and wanted nothing more than to be cleansed and taken care of by her nymphs. they were waiting for her at the edge of the fields, still sheltered by the border of the forest. their faces brightened every so slightly at the sight of her, then dipped upon seeing her weariness and sadness. persephone could only manage a half-hearted smile before silently making the trek to the bathing pool.

upon seeing the pool, the nymphs rushed to it, unable to contain their glee. some remained by persephone’s side, gently helping to remove her clothes, and slowly setting her down into the pool. they cupped water between their palms and let it trickle down her hair and ridges of her spine, and cooed and praised her beauty as they washed her.

persephone was only half-listening to them, completely ignoring their gentle kisses to her hair and hands, as white noise gradually became all she could hear. she wanted to drown in white, she thought, as she felt more of her milky tears slip from her eyes. would they fill the pool until it was a deep lake? she imagined she would fall back into it, her vision filled with white as she sank to the bottom lined with blood-red poppies, and demeter would scream and wail as she tried to find her.

an acute silence suddenly snapped persephone out of her escapism.

the birds had stopped twittering, and the nymphs were as still as deer in the face of a hunter. the only movement was the water ripples moving to the edge of the pool as they slowly settled and the water stilled. persephone felt a tingle, her hair raising at the back of her neck. she turned her head over her shoulder, sensing an intruder amongst them.

and there stood hades, doning the same dark toga as before, his dark pupils dilated and blown as he locked eyes with her.

the nymphs squealed and hissed at him, flocking around persephone, gripping and covering her protectively, their nails almost scratching her skin. hades looked down at them, his nose turned up as he ordered darkly, “leave us.”

“no, you are the one who must leave,” one of the nymphs snapped bravely, yet foolishly. “we will call for our goddess, and she will drive you away.”

the earth rumbled loudly, ominously angry, and the nymphs cried out in fear, clinging to persephone. “is that so?” hades smirked before it fell abruptly, and he snarled. “out of respect for persephone, i will not kill you for your insolence. leave us, now.”

his last words were like molten fire, an echo of an ancient power rolling over hills and mountains, the grass and flowers wilting and dying as death touched and halted right before persephone. she gasped as she felt its warmth tenderly caress her face, sliding along her jawline and down to her neck, brushing over her arms crossed over her bare breasts.

the nymphs did not receive such gentle touches of hades’ power, it seemed, as they scrambled away from her, splashing and screaming bloody murder. persephone simply observed their fear, feeling a sort of detachment and almost indifference wash over her.

she knew it was only a matter of time before her mother arrived.

“you’re hurt,” hades remarked, but not unkindly, stepping over fallen tree logs as he made his way closer to her.

she said nothing, remaining perfectly still, hoping the water was deep enough to protect her modesty below, and tightening her arms around herself. he kneeled in front of her, his breath wafting over her damp face. some part of her was still dissociated, her soul drifting above them, looking down, and persephone wasn’t sure if it was because she was frightened or simply not afraid at all.

hades seemed to hesitate for just a moment, and then his fingers were cupping her jaw, gently moving her to each side as he observed the blooming shadows of bruises on her cheeks.

“demeter,” he stated lowly, and it was most certainly not a question, but persephone nodded nonetheless, a snowdrop tear running down her cheek and onto his hand.

crimson anger flashed in all of his eyes, and his jaw tightened and clicked, a sliver of his teeth visible between his lips. her stomach lurched as hades licked her tear from the back of his hand, and he closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste of her on his tongue.

“i must go to olympus tomorrow,” she blurted out suddenly.

hades cracked a single eye open, and it narrowed suspiciously. “what for?”

“zeus wishes to see me. my mother says he misses me,” she replied, moving away from his touch on her jaw and looking down to the side. “and i do not know what it is, but something is… different.”

he sighed deeply, and she gazed back into his eyes as he gripped her chin. “zeus has waited patiently for all this time, but demeter can no longer keep him at bay. he will have his way with you, and soon. he most likely wishes to see you to try and seduce you into his bed.”

persephone felt her heart drop as hades all but confirmed her worst fears. she had some sort of inkling that this would happen eventually, and guessed that her mother had been shielding her from zeus and his urges. however, some naive and childish part of her had hoped that he would remain as her father and cherish her as his daughter forever. her breathing becoming erratic, and her body started to shake as the trees around her started to rustle loudly, heralding the imminent arrival of demeter. hades hushed her softly, cradling both sides of her face now.

“what if i could stop this? ryomen whispered, with a tenderness she didn’t think the god of the dead could ever have possessed, as the tip of his nose touched hers.

persephone blinked rapidly as the wind stung her eyes, utterly perplexed. “you cannot stand against zeus.”

he laughed at this, throwing his head back as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “oh, how you doubt me so, little flower.”

“i don’t understand. what can you do or say against the word of satoru? he is our – your – king?”

“only understand that i am owed, little flower. for fighting with against the titans many centuries ago and faithfully serving my duty in the underworld for all this time. i am owed, and zeus knows this well.”

his thumb stroked her left cheek, and persephone instinctively leaned into his touch. the wind howled louder, and the trees seemed to be screaming at them to tear themselves from each other and run, run, run.

“you are stronger than you know, persephone,” hades murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, as if they were already lovers who had been together for many years. she heard a great thudding noise, like the footsteps of a giant running, and he gripped her a touch tighter. “light that spark again in your eyes, and say you will fight.”

“hades.”

demeter was very close. their time was running out, and persephone instinctively grabbed his hands holding her face. her soul seemed to snap back into place, and her eyes widened as fear seized her. “ryomen,” she gasped, urgency lacing her words. “you must go.”

“not until you say you will fight,” he repeated, steady as a boulder against her trying to push him away, not even budging an inch. “i will save you, but you must give me your word that you will fight until i can reach you.”

“sukuna! how dare you lay your hands upon my daughter?!”

her mother’s voice was like a thousand thundering horses, their hooves smashing into the earth with all the force they could muster. persephone screamed as the trees rocked back and forth, their roots ripping free from the ground and poised to strike hades. as fast as a snake, hades grabbed a root that was a second away from slashing them both, wrenching it in two and hurling it far away. he snarled defiantly as he turned his back to her, glaring into the forest.

“i promise!” persephone exclaimed as her demeter’s figure came into view from the forest, barreling towards them. “ryomen, i promise! please, you must leave.”

hades turned to look at her, with a mad grin and gleaming teeth, as his crimson eyes flashed brightly. with a great swing of his arms, his power came crashing into demeter, sending her flying back deep into the forest. there was an explosion of shadow, only inky blackness seeping into persephone’s eyes and bones, flooding her head with dark whispers and promises.

promises of the dead.

and the dead were known to keep them.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

persephone felt as if she were approaching her death sentence.

the grand halls of olympus were no less than resplendent, with tall white marble columns and lavish golden decorations. the very air was alive with the energy of the gods that dwelled there, and their laughter and music always echoed throughout the pantheon. this place had once felt like home, its splendor familiar and warm, but now it only felt oppressive, like a cage who’s cold bars she had only just registered.

persephone could finally see it for all of its faults and how deep its rotten ugliness actually ran beneath the surface.

she felt her soul detach once again, keeping her numb to everything around her. perhaps it was a defense mechanism, to perhaps keep her fear at bay, or to shield her from feeling too much all at once.

either way, it was a blessing.

demeter was in an uncharacteristically somber mood. persephone had found her mother completely unconscious after hades had used his power against her. when she woke, all her anger had been replaced by a slumped and defeated sort of exhaustion. demeter had spent the night with her, placed beautiful blooms in her hair that morning, and helped her dress to travel to olympus, all the while not saying more than a handful of words.

it seemed as if the goddess of nature had been drained of all life, her petals falling faster, leaving a trail of red behind her, like blood.

it unnerved persephone, who was no longer sure how to act around her mother.

as they entered the dining hall, persephone was first greeted by the sight of a long table draped in white silk and laden with a feast of various meats and salads. the golden goblets of the gods sparkled in the warm, soft afternoon light, no doubt filled with ambrosia and sweet nectar.

and there was zeus, seated at the head of the table, his legs and arms spread comfortably, exuding both carefreeness and power. so assured was he in his authority, absolute as the king of the gods.

“welcome, my daughter!” zeus announced, his booming voice echoing like thunder, his cerulean eyes twinkling with mirth and lightning. “come and join us; we have missed you greatly.”

there was once a time, not so long ago really, that she would have been moved by her father’s words, believing that he truly missed her and loved to spend time with her. but now it was tainted, and all she could think of were hades’ words from last night, and her perfect image of zeus was forevermore ruined.

the olympians were in full attendance, their gazes resting on persephone and demeter, before they all raised their goblets in acknowledgment, then resuming their conversations and merriment. she spied a seat next to artemis and tried to rush over to it as inconspicuously as she could, leaving her mother to take her seat elsewhere.

“persephone!” artemis exclaimed happily, her fierce eyes glinting like the shiny, rich wood of her hunting bow. “it has been too long.”

persephone smiled, feeling a slight weight lift off her shoulders, and embraced her earnestly. “it has, my beautiful huntress.”

maki pulled back, tenderly stroking her cheek before frowning. “you were hurt,” she noted, gently prodding over the places where her bruises had been. “right here, and here.”

she sighed, hoping that artemis would not have noticed at all, for her bruising was all but gone overnight. “fret not, it is healed now.”

“was it a man? a god? tell me who did this, and i shall hunt them down,” artemis vowed, her untamed ferocity blazing forth.

“be at peace, sister,” urged the light voice of apollo, his golden hair rich and radiating with the energy of the sun. “it was neither a god nor a man.”

maki turned to glower at her brother beside her. “then who was it, nanami? do not keep it from me.”

apollo leaned forward in his seat, peering at persephone expectantly with honey-brown eyes. “do you wish me to say? helios has already told me all he has seen.”

persephone hesitated. would it really be wise to expose her mother’s abuse to maki? she shook her head, deciding that it would only escalate the tension with demeter. artemis growled and said no more. she abruptly stood up and stalked off somewhere, her hunting bow in tow, and apollo slid into his sister’s unoccupied seat.

“pay no attention to my sister, kore,” he hummed, strumming his lyre absentmindedly, his voice a beautiful sing-song melody. “would you like me to play you a song? i have thought of something especially for you.”

“since when did you need to ask for permission to play your music, apollo?” persephone asked, reaching out and sipping on a goblet of ambrosia, hyper-aware that demeter had not interrupted them already.

“since i am in the presence of a beautiful blossom such as yourself, i cannot help but seek your approval,” apollo purred, an easy, saccharine grin on his face, and heat rose to the back of her neck.

there was a loud thumping noise across the table, and they both turned to look at hermes, still appearing as an adolescent boy, banging his fists against the table as he gulped down the contents of his goblet.

“now, now, apollo! you are not to pursue persephone. she is promised to another,” he chided, childishly indulging in his own proclaimed self-importance.

apollo raised a brow. “is that so, ui ui? tell me more of this suitor, for helios has seen nothing. he must be possess a certain prowess to avoid the all-seeing sun.”

hermes giggled, his quicksilver tongue mischievously sharp as his gaze knowingly pierced her. “oh, that he does, and he may be among us already, or perhaps not. what say you, persephone?”

she glowered at the young god, saying nothing as he taunted her, and drank more ambrosia. apollo grumbled, plucking the strings of his lyre to play a somewhat fast-paced tune. “ever evasive, hermes. one day, the sun will burn you as you fly.”

hermes cackled, red wine messily dripping down his chin. “i would like to see you try.”

persephone’s mind strayed as the two gods engaged in playful banter, and she further dissociated from her body, merely a spectator in the midst of her family. she could still feel the linger touches of hades’ shadows, promising her that he would come for her. a knot formed in her stomach, both from apprehension and anticipation, as she wondered how the god of the dead intended to keep his word.

she looked up at all the olympians sat at the table, observing them indulging in their feast and flowing ambrosia and wine. apollo and hermes were now playing their music together, their voices harmonizing as they sang about the stars and sun. zeus was heartily clapping along to them, his wife hera watching him with eagle eyes, wearing a bemused smile at her husband’s antics. poseidon sat at zeus’ left, his long silky black hair flowing like a river down his back, his gold trident leaning ominously against his chair.

ares was there, his emerald orbs shining as he gnawed on a meaty rib, his handsome face and raven hair speckled with blood, no doubt having just returned from the heat of battle. all the while, aphrodite was a vision of grace, her long golden hair tumbling perfectly over her exposed back, swaying sensually to the music. persephone dared to steal a glance at demeter, who sat beside hera, wearing a slightly sour expression as she watched the performance.

all these gods have gathered here, feasting and drinking without any care, without any consequences. what is the point of it all?

“are you well, kore?” athena asked softly, pulling persephone from her thoughts. her lavender eyes gazed at her with gentle concern behind a veil of her white hair.

she managed a faint smile. “of course, than-”

“loveliest kore,” an all-consuming voice interjected, and persephone felt two large hands covering her ears as zeus placed a great big kiss on her head. “it has been too long since we have spoken. come, walk with me.”

persephone’s heart pounded, her body instinctively reacting fearfully, but she nodded and rose from her seat. she glanced at her mother, and could sense her concern and growing despair emanating. hera’s gaze bore into her with mixture of suspicion and barely concealed jealousy, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

hera’s punishment for laying with zeus would be almost as horrifying as the actual deed itself.

“excuse us, shoko, my love,” zeus mumbled, pressing a kiss to the back of his wife’s hand, and then urging persephone on with a hand to her lower back.

he led her to a secluded balcony, the music and laughter of the dining hall fading into a faint noise. night had fallen, and it was pleasantly cool. the view of the mortal cities below seemed like a dream, for they appeared so small and far away that they couldn’t be real. persephone shivered as zeus’ broad arm brushed hers, lingering for a moment too long, as he leaned over the balcony.

“you have grown into a remarkable goddess, kore,” he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically low and husky. “i have missed you here on olympus, and i told demeter that you must spend more time here.”

persephone’s discomfort was growing, but she steeled herself, and remained composed. “i’m sorry, father. i should have visited more, but my duties are rather demanding.”

zeus’ eyes darkened just a touch, his snowy hair reflecting starlight, as he moved just a touch closer to her. “your place is here, with your family. with me.”

she felt the full weight of his words and implications bore down on her, causing a sickening sensation in her core. the torches lining the balcony flickered, casting dancing shadows with a nervous energy. she remembered her promise to ryomen, to stand her ground, and so persephone gritted her teeth, steeling herself for what might come next.

zeus reached out and gripped her hand, his thumb rubbing circles. “look at me, kore,” he ordered lowly, squeezing her hand in an attempt to force her attention. “it’s only me, your satoru.”

“i don’t want to,” she whispered, her lip quivering as her body betrayed her, behaving fearful despite feeling almost nothing inside.

“no?” he tilted his head, his expression predatory.

the torches suddenly dimmed, casting the balcony into near inky blackness, save for the light of the moon and stars. the shadows loomed large, a dark mist collecting just a foot away from zeus, who moved into a more protective stance in front of persephone.

a flash of four crimson eyes gleamed between the shadows.

teeth bared in a display of madness and the sort of bravery that only the dead could possess.

“hades,” zeus greeted, his expression morphing into a forced veneer of pleasantness. “how unexpected! what brings you to olympus?”

“brother, i believe we need to have a word,” hades returned, his voice deep and resonating with the power of the earth, cutting straight through the night like an assassins blade.

a blood-red eye locked on persephone, slowly blinking at her as if trying to communicate without speaking. she tried not to show any emotion, even though her very soul was shaking with relief, gradually sinking back into her body as if the god of the dead had decreed that it must return to her.

ryomen is here. he’s here.

zeus’ hand fully slipped from hers as he crossed his arms over his chest. the tension between the two gods crackled, and persephone felt the familiar hum of her father’s power radiating through the air. and still, hades showed not an ounce of fear. his dark essence emanated in rhythmic waves, pushing back against the electric sparks.

“demeter has already asked me to keep you away from kore. are you really ready to challenge me for her, sukuna?” zeus dared, his jaw clenched.

hades’ lips curled into a sly smile. “no, but i do propose a conversation to settle this little… issue.”

the universe seemed to hold its breath for a fleeting moment. then, with a begrudging nod, zeus conceded, motioning for hades to approach. persephone bit her lip, feeling that familiar rush of blood through her veins as the god of the dead stood beside her, as if staking his claim, one of his hands dangerously close to hers. her father pursed his lips disapprovingly.

“well, what do you wish to discuss?” zeus all but growled, his tempestuous nature rapidly wearing down his patience.

hades breathed out, slow and steady. “persephone belongs with me, and i her. long ago, you asked me what i wanted for fighting with you against our father, and i wanted for nothing. and now, brother, still i am owed, and i have come to claim what i want, and it is her.”

persephone’s heart stuttered, and a swarm of butterflies flew in circles in her belly. his words had awakened something deep, something she dared not name just yet. ryomen’s eyes flicked over to her, his features softening just a touch, as if sensing her inner turmoil.

“you dare try to claim her when our sister has forbidden her from you? while she is still under my protection as my daughter?”

“i did not come here as your supplicant, zeus, but as your brother. i will only ask you once for this favor.”

“kore is a goddess of life and growth, and you would only subject her to death and decay. why should i allow you to have her?”

“because i refuse to let her be trapped any longer between you and demeter. she deserves more than that, and far more than either of you could ever give her.”

suddenly, demeter burst through to the balcony, her breathing frantic. “zeus! do not let him take her, brother! please!” she cried, her knees buckling. whirling to face hades, her expression twisted with anger, and she snarled, “you will not take my daughter! she belongs with me.”

lightning bolts lashed through the clouds, and crashing thunder reverberated in the air, ringing through persephone’s ears. “enough of this,” zeus boomed, his rage transforming the sky into a fully fledged storm. “you will not have her, hades. you are never to come near her again, or you shall face the full extent of my wrath.”

hades’ expression turned grave, and he rumbled, “keep her from me, and there shall be consequences.”

“you dare to threaten me, brother?” zeus exclaimed, his brows raised incredulously. “you dare and threaten me here, in my home?”

persephone looked fearfully at hades, who set his dark gaze upon her, the whispers of the dead breathing into her ears as he smirked. with a great clap of his hands, persephone found herself thrown backwards, her senses dulled by a blinding flash of light as a mighty lightning bolt bore down on hades. when she reopened her eyes, her savior had vanished, leaving only a scorched imprint on the marble balcony where he had stood just moments before.

“demeter, take kore and leave here,” zeus ordered, his tone dangerous and leaving no room for argument. “find artemis and order her to keep watch over our daughter. she is never to leave her sight, is that understood?”

persephone stumbled dumbly, her breath catching in her throat as she stared transfixed at the spot where hades had been, the echoes of thunder still reverberating through the air. demeter huffed impatiently as she swept persehone into her arms, whisking her away from zeus and his almighty anger. the dining room was deathly quiet, all the chairs empty and abandoned, as the other olympians had scattered, knowing all to well that the jovial feast was over.

she rolled her head back, the ground passing swiftly beneath her, her mother’s feet thudding against the ground in a swift, determined rhythm. artemis’ loyal dogs had materialized, their fur glinting in the moonlight as they ran ahead and behind them, the pack forming a coordinated and protective circle around them as they descended back to the mortal realm.

was this it?

was this ryomen’s mighty stand against zeus?

it seemed that whatever his grand plan had been, it had failed.

persephone’s heart cracked in two.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

from then on, the days were dull and dreadfully monotonous.

persephone moved through her days like a ghost, her soul roaming the skies high above her, and it had not landed since she had been to olympus. every morning, she awoke to the feeling of metaphorical vines tightening around her throat, binding her tighter to the life demeter wanted her to live.

she never smiled, not anymore. not even to artemis, who looked at her with such palpable pity that it was almost unbearable. the huntress never left her side, watching over her as she tended to the barley fields, her hounds sniffing and growling at the onlooking mortals. even during the night, maki dutifully kept her vigil, silently keeping watch against the encroaching shadows. and still, despite her dearest friend’s constant, heavy presence, persephone’s despair was ever-growing.

demeter visited almost every day, always arriving during the night. sometimes, she would sleep with her amongst the nymphs, one hand reaching out to persephone as if zeus himself might descend from olympus to steal her away, or as if she might run away and disappear into her dreams.

and oh, how persephone wanted to do just that.

she would dream of ryomen and his deep crimson eyes, a reverie of passion. he had shown her just a little taste of what it was to live as she pleased, and although persephone was shy to admit it even to herself, she missed him – fiercely. she missed that comforting rumble in his voice, and the way all of his eyes looked at her as if she were the most precious thing to him. persephone’s heart ached with longing every time she woke, the sort of pain that carved out a hollow space inside her, one she felt that only ryomen could ever fill.

but she was an empty vessel for all the flowers and seeds she had ever grown, always giving and giving, never able to take anything for herself to fill that hole.

miraculously, there had been no word from zeus, but persephone knew it was only a matter of time. sometimes, in the dead of the night, with only the sounds of the nymphs soft snores and crickets chirping under the light of the fireflies, she imagined what it would be like with hades. the thought ignited ignited a low thrum in her core, making her lower stomach flutter with pleasure.

the dreams started soon after that.

dreams of the underworld. of ryomen holding her in his arms, his bare skin flush against hers, tenderly kissing her neck and shoulder. of him telling her that she was the only one for him, that it was always her, and how he had been waiting for her his whole life. how his hand would drift lower and lower, tracing little circles and swirls down her navel, and…

persephone would always wake up at that point.

and she’d be in a crimson hue of deaths essence, thinking about how much he must have loved her to try and bargain with zeus for her, even going so far as to threaten him. persephone’s heart would flutter with warmth, but she kept her sudden happiness hidden, lest artemis would sense her desire and raise a questioning brow at her.

perhaps if i close my eyes and imagine it is ryomen instead of zeus, it won’t be so bad.

until a cold splash of ice-cold water doused over her head, and persephone was painfully reminded that she hadn’t seen him in so long. consumed in a fit of petulant anger, she wondered how could ryomen have forgotten her so easily. had she not meant that much to him after all? perhaps she was just a passing whim to him, in the same way that zeus had many.

surprisingly, but bitterly nonetheless, she thought that maybe demeter was right.

that the gods of olympus – and the underworld, it seemed – were fickle and untrustworthy.

one afternoon, after once again dreaming of hades and the underworld, persephone woke up in a fluster. deciding not be caught up in the rose haze of her fantasies, she maneuvered out from amidst the nymphs, who had gone for a nap to escape the heat of the sun. artemis was nowhere to be seen, but persephone knew she could not be far, for her hounds were resting closely to them and keeping a watchful eye.

one of the nymphs stirred, slowly sitting up and rubbing away the sleep from her eyes. “kore, where are you going?”

persephone angled her face away from the nymph and rolled her eyes. “i want to bathe. it is far too hot.”

the nymph gracefully stood up, rousing a few of the others with her, and together they all went to the bathing pool, with the ghost of artemis’ shadow following through the treeline. they gently lowered persephone into the water, cleansing her body and hair, while she struggled to keep her thoughts from drifting towards hades.

“your ichor runs hot, kore,” one of the nymphs hummed thoughtfully, rubbing the pads of her fingers deep into persephone’s scalp. “why are you so flushed?”

persephone remained silent, her attention firmly fixed on the hounds circling the pool, while the nymphs continued their ministrations.

“you are aroused, kore,” one of the nymphs whispered intimately into her ear, so low so that the others couldn’t hear. “i know these things. who is it you think of? the lightning god, zeus, hmm?”

she made a face of disgust, and the nymph giggled, almost a little too knowingly, her eyelashes fluttering not so innocently. the nymph sensually trailed her fingers down persephone’s arm. “but of course, death has you in his clutches, and you do not want to be let go of, do you?”

“enough,” persephone snapped, whirling to glare at her as her godly blood flushed once again.

the nymph did not taunt her anymore, and after they had finished washing her, persephone took off towards her pomegranate tree, all but growling at them to leave her be. artemis stepped forward from between the trees, the curve of her bow gleaming in the golden light of the hour, her hounds bounding freely through the grass, snapping playfully at each other. she said nothing to the huntress, something her dearest maki had probably come to expect by now, for persephone spoke very little at all these days.

she laid down in the long grass in front of her tree, little daisies tickling the supple skin of her shins, and set about weaving a flower crown made of narcissus. a hound bravely flopped down in front of her, its heavy, wet tongue lolling from between its fangs, rolling into its back and exposing its belly to her.

“that one likes you,” maki commented, a rare softness in her tone. when persephone didn’t reply, she sighed, setting her bow leaning against the tree trunk. “persephone, what is wrong?”

“you already know, maki,” she muttered, piercing the stem of a flower with her fingernail.

artemis shook her head disappointingly. “i only wish to keep you safe from hades. this has all been necessary to ensure that, but that does not mean that i enjoy it.”

persephone ignored her, deftly continuing to weave the stems together, to which maki huffed. it was unwise to antagonize the goddess of the hunt, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. she decided to indulge in the fleeting sense of rebellion that seemingly stemmed from her youth as a young goddess.

she held out the crown, both admiring and critiquing her own handiwork. it needed a crowning jewel, persephone decided – a large and most beautiful blossom to be placed right in the center.

when she looked up, there it was.

the most ethereal narcissus blossom stood proudly in the middle of the meadow, with petals so vibrantly yellow they were almost pure gold. it was complete perfection, the most gorgeous bloom she had ever seen.

persephone clutched her crown tightly, her heart racing as she sprinted towards the blossom. it seemed to sing to something within her, a haunting song she hadn’t heard for an age. the grass beneath her feet seemed to urge her on, whispering words of encouragement. artemis watched her with a furrowed brow, a scowl etched on her face as she ripped clumps of dirt from the earth.

the universe went eerily still as her fingers gripped the stem.

artemis pricked her head up, her hounds suddenly bristling and alert.

the earth let out a mighty groan and trembled, a deep rumble reverberating through the meadow as it trembled beneath her. persephone screamed as the ground split open and rocks cracked and gave way under her weight. the very earth seemed to be opening its jaws, yawning wide to swallow her whole.

this is it, this is my death.

until she found herself ensnared in a scorching embrace, her ear pressed against the warm, bare skin of a chiseled chest. persephone couldn’t move, the steady heartbeat of death soothing her.

“oh, persephone,” ryomen rumbled, his lips pressed into her hairline, his words laced with a desperate sort of affection. “my love, my life. how i have missed you so.”

he pressed quick kisses to her forehead, as if every one could say all the things he wanted to say. “why did you leave me for so long?” persephone couldn’t help but ask, her voice cracking like marble. “i thought you had left me forever.”

a swoosh of an arrow sliced through the air, and with a speed she had never seen before, hades caught it with his bare hand, its wood splintering as he crushed it. persephone heard artemis’ hounds howling, and the huntress’ threatening shouts at the god of the death, unflinching and unwavering. hades’ black stallions snorted and pawed the ground, his menacing obsidian chariot glinting in the sun.

“my love,” he cooed, cradling her face with two hands and forcing her to look deep into his ruby eyes. “i am ashamed of that, but i am here now to break you free from your cage.”

persephone reeled, shock gripping her in its cold clutches. “i– but zeus has forbidden us from each other. there would be war.”

“then let there be war,” he hissed, then quickly softened, tenderly rubbing her cheek with his thumbs. “come with me persephone. let me give you a crown of bones that can never die like your flowers. be my queen, be my wife.”

she paused, sucking in a breath.

could persephone really do such a thing? did she have the strength to not only disobey her mother, but zeus as well?

ryomen bent his neck down closer to her ear and whispered, “are you afraid?”

“no,” she replied as steadily as she could, wetting her lips with her tongue. “i could never be afraid of you.”

another arrow whizzed past dangerously closer to his ear, his curls fluttering as the wind from it rushed through, and still hades did not flinch. he smiled softly, kissing between her brows. “then say you will stay with me, my sweet flower. let me give you the power you were born to wield.”

persephone nodded slowly, the gravity of her decision weighing heavily on her, but there was not an ounce of hesitation that it wasn’t the right one. with a great grin on his face, hades cracked a magnificent whip and his stallions lurched forward deep into the earth, as artemis screamed promises of vengeance.

she didn’t care.

as the earth swallowed them both, the golden sun disappearing entirely and the first glimpse of the underworld came into view, all persephone could feel was an astounding sense of just one emotion.

freedom.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

persephone had finally blossomed into full bloom, unfurling her radiant petals to show the world that she was a goddess after all.

the underworld had not subjected her to death and decay as zeus had once predicted. instead, she flourished into who she was always meant to be. ryomen had always seen persephone for who she was, even before she saw it herself, and he had only helped her flourish. he had declared that she was not bound to a singular fate of a lowly wood nymph, but rather embrace duality as both a goddess of nature and queen of the underworld.

they had married the very same day persephone descended into his domain, their union blessed by hecate, or uraume, as hades often fondly referred to them as. persephone’s days were then spent in a wondrous bubble of discovery, wandering through the underworld with uraume as her guide, learning all its secrets and inner workings. then, when she felt ready, she judged the souls of the dead alongside her husband, sitting atop his lap as if he were her throne. together, they would listen to the pleas of all that stood trial before them, with persephone running her fingers through his curls, and the unyielding god of the underworld would allow it.

their nights together were tender and vulnerable, both of them baring themselves to each other with all their faults and discretions in plain view. and still, it was full of love and acceptance. persephone would never change her husband’s ways, just as ryomen would never try to tell her how to live her life.

the god of the dead was true; his love steadfast and searing with passion, nothing at all like the cold fickleness of the olympians.

persephone didn’t know how long she had been in the underworld, and she didn’t care to count. there were no mealtimes to mark the passing of the day, for there was no need to eat in the underworld, and hades was vehemently against her ever eating a thing. instead, she marked the passage of time whenever they retired to their bed, where she lay in his arms, talking about everything and anything at all.

“ryo, why do you not allow me to eat?” persephone finally asked him, her curiosity getting the better of her, tracing her fingers over the strange black markings on his biceps.

hades sighed, one of his hands gently squeezing her thigh. “because… it would bind you forever to me.”

“but we are already husband and wife,” she rebuked, frowning. “we are bound through our vows to each other.”

“this is different, my love. you would be chained to the underworld as i am, and you could never leave it.”

“would that be so terrible? i never want to be parted from you.”

“it would. i do not wish for you to be in another cage, even if it is with me, and even if i also wish for you to always be at my side.”

hades gently maneuvered her beneath him, his crimson eyes trailing over her body. “let us not speak of such things anymore, persephone,” he murmured, planting kisses along her bare chest.

she was then lost in a haze of pleasure, and they spoke no more of it.

until one fateful day, when the air carried the taste of snow and change, hermes paid a visit to the rulers of the dead.

“your mother has covered all the land in frost and ice in her grief,” the young god solemnly said, staring straight at persephone, his very hair seemingly touched by the very same cold he spoke of. “the people of greece are suffering.”

persephone shifted uncomfortably on ryomen’s lap, and her husband’s grip on her hips tightened. “do not try to guilt my wife as if demeter’s actions are hers,” hades growled at the messenger of the gods.

“the people of greece are suffering,” hermes continued defiantly, his head bowed and all traces of his usual mischief gone. “the very essence of nature is dying. everything you have toiled to ever grow is dying, oh queen of the dead.”

her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes glistened with a milky white sheen of tears that threatened to spill as persephone’s body tensed in an effort to control her whirling emotions. ryomen hushed her softly, his hand gently stroking her back, as if he could sense her anguish.

“it is my fault,” she whispered, more so to ui ui than hades. “it is my fault my mother thinks i have perished, and nature is now doomed to die because of my decision.”

hermes shook his head, his face crumbling with regret. “it pains me to bring you this news, but zeus has instructed me to carry this message to you both.”

“a message from zeus?” hades snapped questioningly, his breath hot against persephone’s ear. “he knows she is here?”

“helios witnessed persephone descend with you into the underworld, but he has kept this knowledge to himself for a time, as he knew you had not kidnapped her. but now, the earth is dying, and the people pray and cry for mercy.”

hermes took a deep breath before continuing. “and so helios has told zeus of what has transpired, for the sake of the mortals. demeter cannot accept that her daughter has chosen death over life. she refuses to cease the endless winter until persephone is returned to her at once.”

the ground rumbled, and persephone could feel her husband’s anger growing as her guilt did. her heart tore as she thought of the golden fields she had so carefully tended, now withering and buckling under the weight of an unnatural winter. she thought of the mortals, who had so kindly offered her honeycomb and incense, always praying to her for fertility of the land and womb. she thought of her mother, whom despite everything, persephone still loved deeply. she could not begin to imagine the sort of pain hanami must be enduring since her disappearance.

“i do not wish to cause you this sort of pain, persephone,” ui ui said earnestly, a hand over his heart. “you already know that i have kept your secret for these past six months.”

six months…

“what does it matter if the mortals are dying?” hades grunted, waving a dismissive hand, leaning back against his throne. “the more souls that reside in our realm, the stronger we are. zeus knows this.”

hermes’ face scrunched up in discomfort. “zeus… acknowledges that fact, and he is imploring for you both to see reason.”

has it really been six months?

“reason?” hades scoffed. “riddle me this then, trickster. is it reason or jealousy that drives my brother to ask me to give up my wife, hmm?”

“he knows not that you are married, so let me help you strike a bargain with the god of lightning,” hermes proposed, his hand ominously disappearing into the folds of his toga.

he procured a whole pomegranate in his palm, holding it out to them both like some sort of salvation. persephone sucked in a breath, and hades stiffened, his muscles hardening into marble at the sight, as if he were almost afraid of it.

she knew that fruit; it was from her tree.

“i offer you a choice t-”

“you overstep, hermes,” hades hissed, recoiling and ready to strike. “you do not offer her a choice, only to lock her in a cage with me.”

“stay calm, ryomen,” persephone finally interjected, her voice but a mere drop in a turbulent ocean of salt and sorrow. “what if this is the only way?”

ryomen’s gaze snapped towards her, a whirlwind of confusion and unmistakable panic in his eyes. “what way, persephone? i will not have you bound to only this realm. it would just be another cage.”

“but it wouldn’t be a cage if i was willing. it is you, after all,” she returned, tears of pearls running down her cheeks.

“my love, my sweet flower, you would only resent me after a time,” he whispered reverently, his forehead touching hers. “and i would rather be thrown into the depths of tartarus than have you hate me.”

six months…

“please, then let me do what i believe is right,” persephone implored desperately, her fists clenching his toga. “you promised me that you would let me be free to do as i wish.”

persephone watched on as her beloved, her ryomen sukuna, seemed to wage a war within himself. his deep ruby eyes, usually so alight with a stout sort of resoluteness, were now a tempest of uncertainty. lines were etched deep into his forehead like scratchings on a stone carving, and each fleeting change of emotion spoke volumes of how much he was struggling.

until the god of the dead finally crumpled, his shoulders growing slack, and his entire demeanor going so very still.

“do what you must, my love. my soul cannot refuse you, nor can it stand to limit you,” his voice quivered with raw emotion, heavy and unbearably low with defeat.

persephone kissed the bridge of his nose, a salty tear landing on her husband’s cheek, and slowly, agonizingly, untangled herself from his tight embrace. she strode towards hermes, the gold jewelry adorning her arms and neck – opulent gifts that ryomen frequently showered her with – clinking as she did so.

the messenger of the gods quirked his eyebrow expectantly, and he further extended the pomegranate towards her, its smooth skin reflecting the dim light of the underworld. her fingers itched to reach out and touch it, a mixture of longing and dread washing over her.

persephone wasn’t sure whether or not to grasp it or run far away from it.

she cleared her throat and thoughts, and asked, “what sort of bargain would ever stand with zeus?”

“i propose this to you, loveliest persephone,” hermes began, cracking open the pomegranate in his little hands. “you have spent six wonderful months with your husband, and so your mother is owed six months in return.”

anger flashed in her irises, and the ground shook once more. “you are full of mischief, ui ui. you speak so very boldly for your age.”

ui ui seemed to shirk in shame, curling into himself ever so slightly, as he removed six ruby gems of pomegranate seeds from the shell of the fruit. “i propose a bold claim, and therefore i must speak in the same manner.”

“well, what is it then?”

“eat six of these seeds to bind yourself to the realm of the dead. you will be forced to return to your husband for six months of the year, and there will be nothing zeus nor demeter can do about it. i will go to olympus and inform them of what you have done, and will say that you threaten to eat another six seeds if zeus does not vow to never touch you while you are away from hades.”

thorns grew beneath the soles of persephone’s feet, her ichor and power manifesting its detestation over the injustice of it all, a painfully silent protest against the weight of the choices before her.

how could she possibly make a decision to willingly leave her husband for half the year?

she couldn’t. she wouldn’t.

but could i abandon the golden crops of my labor to die because of my choices?

behind her, she could sense ryomen’s grief growing wildly – a sorrowful groan echoing through the earth as it responded to his pain.

ui ui grabbed persephone’s hand, dropping the seeds into her palm, and curled her fingers to cover them. “i never wished for you to ever be in pain. i have always thought of you very fondly, and i hate for you to be coerced into such unfair choices.”

she unfurled her fingers, staring down at the glimmering gems from her tree as if they beheld all the answers of the universe.

“you have much to learn, ui ui, as do i,” persephone murmured, her voice suddenly imbued with all the wisdom of the gods before her.

she had grown this tree from a mere seedling to what it was now. how could she have not noticed that it had always revealed the true nature of her soul? it had always known her intimately, as its branches curved and tilted towards the earth, and persephone had never understood why it had until now.

it had always been guiding her.

persephone looked over her shoulder at her husband, her ears sinking as she took in ryomen’s crushed posture. he was stooped over, a pair of arms crossed protectively over his chest, the other pair gripping his throne in support.

persephone hated how utterly exposed he looked.

“but you must always know to listen to your heart,” she said, her voice steeling as her ichor pulsed in her veins. “know that it cannot lead you astray from what is right for yourself.”

with a tip of her head, persephone pressed her palm to her mouth, the seeds falling between her teeth. she bit down slowly, their burst of tart yet sweet flavor spreading over her tongue, their red juice staining her lips and trickling down her chin in rivulets. her husband stirred, and she felt her soul meld with his, intertwining and caressing each other as persephone sealed her fate.

two gold strings tied together, shimmering threads of destiny, never to be undone until the end of time.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

taglist: @tadabzzzbee @wannapizzamymindposts @stromynight

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Gentle Dark

Haldir x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: romantic tension, yearning, passionate kissing, fade to black, admission of feelings, fluff, light angst

Word Count: 1.3k

On a patrol together, Haldir confronts you about your feelings for him even though you’re promised to another.

A/N: For @childofyuggoth

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

The stars twinkle through the gnarled canopy. White. Bright. Bathing the forest floor with iridescent light. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, savoring the scents of the forest around you. Caras Galadhon dwells behind you, sleeping and silent in the peaceful dark.

You are attuned to every sound in the deep wood, and as you filter through it all, you find nothing out of place or suspicious. But the disturbance of the wood is not of your immediate concern. There are greater trials and closer bodies that seek your attention other than the animals that softly move through the underbrush.

Haldir of Lórien is a beacon in the dark. You sense him before you see him, standing just shy of your right shoulder.

“The night is quiet,” he whispers.

You open your eyes, turn to face him. “It is indeed.”

Haldir’s gaze casually drops to your lips and then back to your eyes. A gentle heat radiates up your body to encompass you in its embrace. You have little control over your body’s reaction to him.

The answering of your flesh when he is in your presence is unfair. It is a cruel joke. You are promised to another, but not one of your choosing. If you had a choice, you would pick Haldir.

Always.

But that is not to be. That is not the path set out before you.

Him standing here next to you, alone in the gentle dark, is agony. The heat of him is so near, so alive that it sends your senses tingling with anticipation. The clashing beat within you is a deafening drum.

Can Haldir hear the racing of your heart? Can he sense your need and your aching tremble?

You hope he can’t, but you also silently hope that he does. What would he do then?

Haldir’s gaze finally leaves you to glance out into the wood. “We should begin the patrol.”

“Of course,” you murmur, inclining your head, allowing Haldir to take the lead.

He returns his gaze to you briefly before taking a step forward to walk between two trees. You follow him at a short distance, watching the distance, keeping a constant pivot. The two of you walk in relative silence, moving like phantoms amongst the towering trees.

At a small clearing, Haldir pauses. You cozy up beside him, a question starting to form on your lips.

“Do you remember this place?” he asks softly, gaze fixated at the center of the clearing. A sharp beam of moonlight illuminates the ground. The flowers glow under its lunar light.

You do know this place. On one of your many patrols with Haldir, he confessed his love in this very clearing. He held your hands in his, kissed your knuckles and each of your fingers. He whispered in a longing of gentle song that soothed your nerves and calmed your soul. In that moment, you didn’t want anyone else, you only wished for him.

But how things change.

“It is etched upon my heart,” you answer truthfully.

Haldir’s silver hair shines like starlight. “I’d like to stay here. My memories of this place are happy ones.”

The two of you have come to this clearing on multiple occasions. It is no coincidence that Haldir’s patrol includes you. He selects you on purpose, and you go with him willingly because you desire the closeness. It will not last forever, not when you’re promised to another.

“We can only linger here for so long,” you remind him.

Haldir sighs heavily, and turns to face you. He has always been stoic. Calm. Even in your presence, even when he whispered gentle words of love to you, Haldir never appeared…desperate.

The look on his face now is anything but calm. It is intense—a billowing storm tightly contained.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, startled by the sudden change.

Haldir’s gaze goes to your lips, lingers, and then flicks up to your eyes. “Why do you deny yourself what you want?” he asks.

You swallow and tuck your clenched fist behind your back. Haldir’s directness is too much. He knows that this is not of your own choosing.

“You cannot ask this of me,” you answer, hating yourself for sounding so weak.

Haldir entirely shifts his body in your direction. Taking a step forward, he moves into your space. Your back bumps up against the tree next to you. Haldir places his hand against the trunk next to your head.

You are trapped, but by all the stars in the night sky, you do not care.

His scent is woodsy and clean. You lean in a bit, inhaling, attempting to remember his smell since this might be your last opportunity to do so.

“You stay loyal to him.” Haldir bends at the elbow, pressing in. “And yet you know that he lusts after another.” The center of his brow furrows slightly. “Why not be with someone who will always worship you?”

Him. Him, meaning, your betrothed. The one you’re supposed to be with in the end. The selection made for you. This is an expectation placed upon you.

And Haldir is right. He does not love you. While you intend to be loyal in your upcoming marriage, you also know his heart will yearn for another. But you also yearn for someone else, and Haldir is standing right here, questioning all of this, wanting to know why you won’t pick him.

“Sometimes duty comes before happiness,” you reply softly, gaze cast downward.

“Does it?” he counters quickly.

You keep your face turned toward the ground. Stare at your feet.

The two of you have lain in this clearing, limbs draped over and around each other. There has always been closeness between the two of you. There has always been touching, skin pressed to skin, lips brushing but never fully meeting. Yet, the two of you have never completed the act itself.

That is binding. That is forever.

But you see it in Haldir’s eyes now as you sneak a peek of him. That desperate hunger. The desire to be with one person for the end of your days. It is an arrow through the heart, piercing and sharp and stinging.

You wish to satiated it, to admit to what you want most in this world. Because it is him. It is Haldir that you crave more than anyone else.

“I would be breaking my oath,” you reply softly, finally having the courage to look at him directly.

“Would you?” he asks. “You have made no vow. You have created no bond. The choice is yours. Utterly.” He gestures at himself with his free hand. “And I am right here.”

With a shaking hand, you reach up to cradle his cheek. Haldir turns into your touch, sighing gently, and that snaps your resolve, dissolves it like the winter snows melting in the sun. Haldir must sense the change, because the two of you meet, lips finally joining in what they’ve been longing for.

He tastes perfect. Wonderful. A match made for the ages.

Haldir’s hand upon the tree departs, leaving the bark to encircle your waist, to draw your body against his. You do not resist. You surrender to him, opening like a flower, wanting nothing more than to forget all your fears and sorrows in this little clearing.

The night is long, but it is not forever. For now, the two of you can have this.

Haldir drags you even closer, pressing you firmly against him as he learns the contours of your lips. His hands discover the planes of your body, and yet it’s not enough for him. Haldir is charged like lightening across the sky.

The two of you have been denying these mutual feelings for far too long.

This is a tremor. Earth-shaking. A star bursting into dust.

Haldir guides you to the center of the clearing, easily removing his cloak with one hand. He breaks away a moment to lay it down on the dewy grass, reaching for you the moment it fans out to hold the two of you.

You sink down with him, buckles and straps, and armor disappearing as you go.

It is everything.

It is nothing.

It is all you need in the gentle dark.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @berarenado @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

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novaursa · 6 months ago

Text

To Win a Princess (to refuse a dragon)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Events and timeline of the story differ from the canon events.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: coming to light

- Next part: her choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The early morning light casts a warm light over the Dragonpit, illuminating the towering form of Belerix, your magnificent dragon, as he stands awaiting you. His scales shimmer with shades of deep sapphire and midnight black, streaked with hints of silver that catch the sun as if each scale were etched in starlight. His eyes, fierce and intelligent, are pools of molten amber, watching your every movement with a loyalty and bond that transcends language. Belerix’s long, serpentine neck rises high above, his massive wings folded against his sides, the membranes a dark, iridescent blue that hints at the power held within. His claws are sharp and glinting, his powerful limbs carrying the strength of ages, a creature built for the skies, yet grounded only for you.

You stand beside him, readying to mount the saddle strapped securely to his back. Your mind drifts to the memory of your last clandestine encounter with Tyland, the warmth of his hands, the tenderness of his touch, and the whispered promises exchanged in the dim glow of candlelight. You feel the weight of the small gift he gave you in your hands—a delicate, finely crafted pendant bearing a golden lion, its eyes set with tiny sapphires that gleam as brilliantly as your dragon’s scales. The pendant hangs from a fine chain, its design understated yet unmistakably Lannister in its symbolism. A promise, he had said, of all he wished to give you openly one day.

Lost in your thoughts, you’re about to slip the pendant safely into your cloak when a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Y/N.”

You freeze, fingers clenching around the pendant as you turn to see Daemon approaching, his expression unreadable but his gaze sharp and discerning. You quickly attempt to hide the pendant, tucking it within your palm, but Daemon’s keen eyes have already caught the glint of gold. In one swift movement, he reaches out, his hand closing over yours, trapping it gently but firmly.

“What have we here?” His tone is light, yet there’s a hint of scorn as he pries open your fingers, revealing the lion pendant. A dry scoff escapes his lips, and he shakes his head, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. “A Lannister, of all things. I knew it. You’re wasted on that lion.”

You snatch your hand back, narrowing your eyes at him as you close your fingers protectively around the pendant. “I am wasted on no one, Daemon. And Tyland is… more than you care to understand.”

He arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he studies you with that infuriating smirk, the one that’s always a touch too knowing. “Is that so? And what does he give you, this Lannister lord? Gold and promises of wealth? Words whispered in the dark with no courage to stand beside you in the light?” He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You could have anyone in the realm, yet you settle for the emblem of a gilded lion.”

You lift your chin, meeting his gaze with steady defiance. “Tyland gives me loyalty, Daemon. He respects my choices, my freedom. He does not seek to control or claim me.”

Daemon’s gaze darkens, the smirk slipping into something colder. “Freedom?” he echoes, scoffing. “Is that what you call hiding in shadows, sneaking through hidden passageways like some… common tryst?” He steps closer, his tone laced with both mockery and something sharper. “You think Tyland will be able to protect you? Or that his golden lion will stand against the wolves and dragons that surround you? You deserve more, Y/N.”

You feel a surge of anger rise within you, and you hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “And you think you’re the one to give me that ‘more’? I know well enough that my value is not measured by the strength of another’s claim, Daemon. Tyland sees me as his equal.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow, a flash of irritation breaking through his calculated calm. “An equal? You’re deluded, Y/N. He is a Lannister—loyal only to his coin, his house. They care nothing for you, not truly. He could never offer you the strength that comes from a true bond… nor the loyalty that I would give you.” His gaze flickers with something intense, something almost possessive, as he adds, “You could do far better than a lion.”

Your lips curve into a faint, bitter smile as you regard him, weighing your next words carefully. “Let me guess. You think that ‘better’ would be you?”

He steps even closer, his expression shifting to something almost serious, as though he’s prepared to make his case. “You could do far worse, that’s certain. I am not like these weak-willed lords and simpering knights. I am a dragon. I could be the only match worthy of a Targaryen princess.”

You laugh softly, the sound carrying a touch of derision as you meet his gaze head-on. “You, Daemon? You think I should accept you as some… consolation prize, simply because you couldn’t have Rhaenyra?”

A flash of anger crosses his face, his jaw tightening as he glares at you. “Consolation prize?” he echoes, his voice low, edged with offense. “I offer you the chance to stand beside someone with power, with fire. I am no one’s consolation, least of all yours.”

You hold his gaze, unflinching. “And I am not a fool, Daemon. I will choose my own path, my own love, whether it meets with your approval or not.”

He scoffs, taking a step back, his expression twisting into something bitter. “Fine. Run to your golden lion, then. But don’t come looking for protection when his courage fails him. You’ll find little security in Lannister promises.”

You lift your chin, refusing to be swayed by his words. “I would rather have Tyland’s loyalty in the shadows than empty promises in the light.”

Daemon stares at you for a long moment, his gaze a mixture of frustration and something almost like disappointment. With a sharp turn, he steps back, casting one last, scornful glance at the pendant in your hand before he walks away, his footsteps echoing through the Dragonpit.

Left alone, you turn back to Belerix, your fingers brushing over the pendant as you feel the strength of your resolve harden. Mounting your dragon’s saddle, you take a deep breath, the familiar weight of the pendant grounding you as Belerix shifts beneath you, his powerful form rising to life as you prepare to take to the skies. The wind begins to stir, lifting your hair as your dragon’s wings unfurl, and with a single command, Belerix launches into the sky, carrying you far from the whispers and judgments below.

The world grows smaller as you soar above it, and with the wind rushing past, you feel the quiet certainty of your choices, undeterred by Daemon’s doubts or the court’s expectations. You clutch the pendant in your hand, a reminder of all that you’ve chosen and all that awaits, knowing that wherever this path leads, you are the one who has forged it.

Daemon swings himself off his horse in the courtyard of the Red Keep, his face still etched with the simmering anger from his recent encounter with you. His hands tighten into fists as he hands the reins to a stable boy, muttering under his breath as he strides across the courtyard with purpose, his expression dark. The conversation with you had struck a nerve, and the sting of your words—your dismissal, your insistence on Tyland over him—echoed in his mind like a taunt he couldn’t shake.

As he approaches the entrance to the Great Hall, the murmurs of gathered courtiers fill the air, along with the faint, incessant clinking of goblets and quiet laughter. Daemon’s gaze sweeps across the hall, catching the familiar figure of Tyland Lannister standing among a small group of nobles, his typical calm composure present even as he engages in polite conversation. The sight of him, the man who had somehow claimed your affections, only deepens Daemon’s irritation.

Without hesitation, Daemon strides forward, his steps swift and direct. As he nears, he allows his shoulder to knock heavily into Tyland’s, a forceful impact that jolts Tyland, causing him to stumble slightly, his goblet tilting and splashing wine across his attire in an unexpected splash of deep crimson.

Daemon continues forward without so much as a glance back, his expression set, his gaze fixed ahead as if Tyland were nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

Tyland catches himself, setting his jaw as he looks down at the spilled wine, the dark stain spreading across his carefully chosen clothes. He straightens, recovering his composure, though there’s a glint of irritation in his eyes as he watches Daemon’s back disappear into the crowd. At his side, Jasper Wylde—who had witnessed the entire exchange—arches an eyebrow, a look of bemusement crossing his face as he turns to Tyland.

“Well,” Jasper murmurs, his tone dripping with curiosity, “what was that about, I wonder? Daemon Targaryen isn’t usually one to bump into people by accident.”

Tyland takes a measured breath, suppressing the anger that threatens to flare. “Indeed,” he replies, his tone calm but with an edge of controlled frustration. “I would hardly call it an accident.”

Jasper lets out a low chuckle, watching Daemon’s retreating figure with a wry smile. “It seems our Rogue Prince is in quite the mood today. He looked ready to set the whole hall aflame. Any idea why he’d be… targeting you, of all people?”

Tyland meets Jasper’s curious gaze, carefully choosing his words. “I wouldn’t presume to know what goes on in Prince Daemon’s mind,” he says coolly, brushing at the wine-stained fabric of his attire with a faint frown. “Though, one might assume he simply found himself… displeased with certain matters of late.”

Jasper smirks, his eyes narrowing with a knowing look. “Displeased, is he? Seems more personal than that.” He glances at Tyland’s stained attire, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Perhaps it’s not the first time he’s felt displaced, hmm?”

Tyland holds Jasper’s gaze, his expression composed but with a flicker of restrained irritation. “It would seem Prince Daemon has his own… grievances. I, however, am not inclined to play into his theatrics.”

Jasper chuckles, clapping Tyland on the shoulder with a conspiratorial smile. “Wise choice. Daemon is a man who’ll fight a losing battle for pride’s sake alone. Let him sulk—it’s clear enough he’s not getting what he wants.” He pauses, watching Tyland with a glint of curiosity. “Though it does make one wonder… what—or who—he might be after.”

Tyland’s gaze sharpens subtly, though he keeps his tone level. “Curiosity can be dangerous, Lord Jasper,” he replies, a faint smile touching his lips. “Daemon Targaryen is hardly the sort to be understood by idle speculation.”

Jasper raises his hands in a mock surrender, grinning. “A fair point, Lord Tyland. I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of… whatever this is.” He casts another glance at Daemon, who is now at the far end of the hall, his dark expression still set in brooding anger as he engages with another noble. “But it’s rare to see Daemon so ruffled. Something—or someone—has certainly put him off-balance.”

Tyland allows himself a subtle smirk, glancing down at the wine stain as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “As long as his frustrations remain… inconsequential, I see no reason to concern myself.”

Jasper nods, though a glint of amusement remains in his eyes as he watches Tyland. “Very diplomatic of you. But a word of advice: watch your back. Men like Daemon don’t take well to being denied. He may pretend otherwise, but I’d wager he won’t let this go so easily.”

Tyland inclines his head, his tone quiet yet firm. “I assure you, I am well aware of Prince Daemon’s… tenacity.”

With that, Tyland straightens, casting one last, composed glance in Daemon’s direction before resuming his place among the gathered nobles. Jasper remains beside him, though he continues to eye Tyland with an intrigued smile, clearly enjoying the spectacle of animosity unfolding between Daemon and the man who, by all appearances, seems to have won a place that Daemon might have coveted.

The Great Hall is alive with the hum of conversation, nobles mingling in clusters, laughter and polite chatter filling the space. Queen Alicent stands among a small group of courtiers, her posture poised and graceful, her every movement a study in restrained elegance. At her side, Ser Criston Cole watches over her with the quiet vigilance expected of the Queen’s sworn protector, his gaze scanning the room for any hint of trouble.

As the doors to the hall open with a soft thud, the energy shifts. Daemon strides in, his expression set, his eyes sharp as he surveys the room, and within moments, his presence demands the attention of nearly everyone. Alicent’s gaze narrows slightly as she observes his path through the hall, noting the faint tension that radiates from him. She watches as he approaches Tyland Lannister, their brief encounter marked by the distinct jolt of Daemon’s shoulder against Tyland’s, causing Tyland to stumble and spill his wine.

Alicent’s brow furrows, her lips pressed into a thin line as Daemon continues forward without so much as a glance back, his expression unreadable as he slips into the crowd. She leans slightly toward Criston, lowering her voice so only he can hear.

“Ser Criston,” she murmurs, her tone carrying an edge of curiosity laced with caution, “what do you make of that?”

Criston shifts his gaze from Daemon to Tyland, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he watches Tyland recover from the deliberate bump, Jasper Wylde at his side. After a pause, he leans toward her, speaking in a low, steady tone.

“It seems Prince Daemon has taken some… issue with Lord Tyland,” Criston observes carefully. “A rare display, considering Daemon’s usual disregard for the nobility.”

Alicent glances back at Daemon, her gaze calculating as she takes in the prince’s tense posture, the dark edge to his expression. “It’s unlike him, even so,” she remarks softly. “Daemon has never paid Tyland much mind before. Why now, I wonder?”

Criston’s expression darkens slightly, his jaw setting as he considers her words. “Perhaps Lord Tyland has found himself in the path of Daemon’s ambitions—or in possession of something Daemon wishes for himself.”

Alicent raises an eyebrow, glancing at Criston with a spark of interest in her gaze. “Possession, you say?” She tilts her head, studying Tyland’s composed expression, the stain of wine on his clothes still fresh. “He seems… unaffected. But then, Lord Tyland is not one to betray his emotions easily.”

Criston nods, his voice quiet but thoughtful. “Aye, my queen. Tyland Lannister is clever, careful. He keeps his cards close. But if there is animosity between him and Daemon, it may not remain hidden for long.”

Alicent’s gaze lingers on Tyland, the faintest trace of intrigue in her expression. “It would seem Daemon believes he has reason to make his displeasure known. But what could it be?” She glances back at Criston, her eyes narrowing with consideration. “You’ve watched him closely, Ser Criston. What do you think drives him?”

Criston’s eyes harden, a flicker of disdain for Daemon visible in his gaze. “Daemon is driven by a need for power, for control. And when he finds an obstacle in his path, he… removes it. I would not be surprised if he sees Lord Tyland as a threat or, perhaps, as a rival.”

Alicent’s lips curl in a faint, thoughtful smile, her gaze drifting back to where Tyland now stands with Jasper, a composed, unflinching figure despite the lingering evidence of Daemon’s aggression. “A rival… how curious.”

She pauses, her eyes narrowing as though piecing together a delicate puzzle. “And yet, Tyland has not risen above his station. His position is a modest one, politically speaking. Unless…” She trails off, her gaze sharpening with a glint of realization.

“Unless Daemon believes there’s something more personal at play,” Criston supplies, his tone carrying a note of caution. “It could be a matter of… affections. A lady’s favor, perhaps?”

Alicent’s eyes flash with interest, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, that could explain it.” She glances over her shoulder, ensuring their conversation remains private, before returning her attention to Criston. “And Daemon has never taken well to being denied something he desires.”

Criston’s expression remains stoic, though there’s a shadow of suspicion in his gaze. “If that is the case, then this… conflict may only escalate, Your Grace.”

Alicent sighs, her gaze thoughtful as she watches Tyland for a moment longer. “Indeed. It would do us well to observe. There are few things Daemon covets that he does not find a way to claim.” She pauses, her voice softening, an edge of something almost pitying in her tone. “And yet, he may have found a prize that cannot be won by force.”

She turns her gaze back to Criston, her expression hardening with determination. “Keep an eye on them both, Ser Criston. And if you see anything… noteworthy, I would have you tell me.”

Criston bows his head, a look of quiet loyalty in his eyes. “As you wish, my queen. I shall watch closely.”

Alicent nods, her gaze returning to the mingling crowd, her expression serene, yet her mind is clearly at work, already piecing together the dynamics at play between Daemon and Tyland. In the delicate game of power and influence, every player has their role—and she intends to ensure that, whatever happens, the interests of House Hightower remain firmly protected.

Rhaenyra steps into the Great Hall, her cheeks still slightly flushed from her own secret rendezvous with Harwin, the faintest hint of satisfaction lingering in her gaze as she surveys the room. The murmur of courtiers and the bright flicker of torches greet her, the familiar buzz of courtly life buzzing around her as she moves with practiced grace. Her eyes scan the crowd, and it doesn’t take long for her to spot Daemon, standing near the edge of the hall with a dark expression etched into his face, his posture stiff and brooding.

As soon as he catches sight of her, he strides forward, his steps swift and direct. Without preamble, he grabs her by the arm, his grip firm but not rough, guiding her toward a quiet alcove just out of sight of the prying eyes of court.

“Daemon,” she says sharply, though her voice is low, matching his urgency as she pulls her arm from his grasp. “What is this about?”

Daemon’s gaze burns with anger, his jaw clenched as he looks at her, his tone barely more than a growl. “Did you know?” he demands, his voice laced with accusation.

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest as she meets his gaze with a steady, unimpressed look. “Did I know what?”

Daemon’s eyes narrow, the anger in them dark and intense. “Did you know that it’s Tyland Lannister who holds your sister’s favor?” he hisses, his voice dripping with disdain. “A Lannister, Rhaenyra. She’s wasted on him.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flash with surprise, though she quickly composes herself, giving Daemon a warning look. “Daemon, keep your voice down,” she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one is within earshot. “And yes, I knew. But that is no one’s business but hers.”

Daemon lets out a harsh, bitter laugh, shaking his head as though he can hardly believe it. “No one’s business?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “Your sister sneaks around the Red Keep with that lion, disgracing her Targaryen blood, and you think it’s no one’s business?”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardens, her voice firm as she speaks. “Daemon, she is free to make her own choices. Tyland may be a Lannister, but he has treated her with nothing but respect. And if she has chosen him, then we have no right to interfere.”

Daemon’s mouth twists into a sneer, his eyes flashing with contempt. “Respect? Lannisters know nothing of respect. They are schemers—liers wrapped in gold.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I could end this now. One dead Lannister wouldn’t be missed, and Y/N would be free of his influence.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen in alarm, and she steps forward, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Daemon, listen to yourself! You can’t simply… kill him. Do you understand what that would do? It would create a scandal the likes of which we might never recover from. Viserys would see it as nothing short of treason.”

Daemon scoffs, brushing off her warning with a dismissive wave. “Viserys is blind to what’s happening under his own roof. He wouldn’t even notice if Tyland were gone.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardens, her voice low but filled with authority. “You cannot let your jealousy guide you, Daemon. Tyland has done nothing to warrant your anger—other than winning her heart.”

He meets her gaze, his eyes simmering with frustration. “And that should be mine to win,” he mutters darkly, his voice barely audible. “You know I could protect her, Rhaenyra. I could give her something real, something worthy of a Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softens, though she remains firm, her voice steady. “Daemon… she’s chosen. And it is not you.”

His face tightens, his jaw clenched as he looks away, his pride clearly wounded. “It should have been me.”

Rhaenyra sighs, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you care for her, Daemon, then let her be happy. Killing Tyland will not change her feelings—it will only make her hate you.”

He looks at her, his gaze conflicted, the fury in his eyes tempered by a flicker of doubt. “You’re asking me to do nothing, then? To stand by and watch her throw herself away on a lion?”

“I’m asking you to let her make her own choices,” Rhaenyra replies, her tone firm but compassionate. “And to respect those choices, even if they aren’t what you wanted.”

Daemon exhales, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggles with the warring emotions within him. After a long, strained silence, he finally nods, though his expression remains dark, brooding.

“Fine,” he mutters, though the resentment in his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Rhaenyra watches him carefully, relieved but cautious. “I wouldn’t expect you to be. But I do expect you to honor your family.”

Daemon casts her a final, frustrated glance before turning on his heel and striding away, leaving her in the shadowed alcove, the weight of his anger lingering in the air. Rhaenyra lets out a quiet sigh, her gaze thoughtful as she watches him go, hoping that, for once, her words will be enough to temper the storm brewing within him.

The moonlight streams through the narrow window of Tyland’s chambers, as you rest together in the quiet aftermath of your reunion. The warmth of his body is a comforting anchor against the cool evening air, and his arm is draped protectively around you, fingers tracing gentle circles on your bare shoulder as you lie entwined in the intimacy of each other’s embrace.

After the long hours of your flight on Belerix, the return to Tyland’s arms feels like coming home. His presence, steady and reassuring, wraps around you, grounding you in the quiet sanctuary of his room, away from the world’s prying eyes. The warmth of your shared moments lingers, your breaths soft and synchronized, an unspoken understanding settling between you.

Tyland shifts slightly, resting his chin atop your head as he speaks, his voice soft but tinged with a faint edge of frustration. “You missed quite the… spectacle in court today,” he murmurs, his fingers continuing their gentle pattern on your skin.

You glance up at him, your eyes searching his face. “Oh? What happened?”

He lets out a small sigh, his lips curving into a wry smile as he recounts the day’s events. “Our dear Prince Daemon made his entrance in a manner only he could manage. It seems his temper was… particularly sharp today.” Tyland pauses, his tone turning more serious as he looks down at you. “He took it upon himself to remind me of his displeasure—rather forcefully, I might add.”

You frown, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face as your fingers linger on his cheek. “What do you mean? Did he say something?”

Tyland gives a small shake of his head, though his eyes darken slightly as he recalls the encounter. “Not with words. Daemon has a… unique way of making his point without needing to say anything.” He gives a soft, humorless chuckle. “He decided to shoulder me in passing. I’d nearly forgotten how aggressive he can be when he feels slighted.”

Your hand tightens gently on his, a flicker of anger stirring within you at the thought of Daemon’s actions. “I’m so sorry, Tyland. Daemon can be… relentless when he thinks he’s been wronged.” You shake your head, exhaling softly. “I didn’t think he would confront you like that.”

Tyland’s lips curve into a small, reassuring smile as he strokes your hair. “I knew the risks, my love. And I would endure far more than a bump in passing for you.” His gaze softens as he continues, “But I don’t think he’s content to leave it at that. I saw the look in his eyes… it was as if he’s made it his mission to drive a wedge between us.”

You sigh, nestling closer to him, the familiar scent of his skin grounding you as you process his words. “Daemon doesn’t take kindly to being denied something he believes he deserves,” you murmur, frustration evident in your voice. “But he has no right to interfere with my choices. Or with you.”

Tyland’s fingers brush over your shoulder, his touch warm and soothing as he pulls you closer. “It’s you I worry for, more than myself. Daemon’s anger is… dangerous. If he can’t reach me directly, he might try to turn his schemes against you.” He pauses, a shadow crossing his face as he looks at you with quiet determination. “I would sooner face his ire than see you put in any kind of danger.”

Your heart aches at his words, a mixture of gratitude and frustration rising within you. “I hate that it’s come to this. That we have to hide, that you have to bear the brunt of his anger because of me.” You reach up, your fingers tracing the lines of his face with a tenderness that conveys all the words you can’t quite find. “But I won’t let him dictate my life, Tyland. No matter what he believes, my heart is my own, and it belongs to you.”

He gazes down at you, a warmth flickering in his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I would have it no other way, even if it means facing Daemon’s wrath. You are worth every risk, every moment of uncertainty.”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—a comforting sound that fills the quiet of the room, each beat grounding you in this rare, precious moment. For a time, neither of you speaks, content to let the peace of the night wrap around you like a protective shroud. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, you sense the weight of Tyland’s thoughts, the subtle tension lingering in his body, the unspoken fears woven into the silence.

Finally, he breaks the quiet, his voice a soft murmur. “I only wish we could live without these shadows hanging over us… without the need to look over our shoulders.”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze, your fingers tracing small, soothing circles on his chest. “Tomorrow,” you say, your voice filled with quiet determination. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell my father. The petitions for my hand have gone on long enough—enough to satisfy any House that was rejected.” You offer a faint, reassuring smile. “And I believe he will understand. He’s always encouraged me to follow my heart, even when the path is difficult.”

Tyland’s expression softens, relief and hope flickering in his eyes as he holds your gaze. A small, tender smile curves his lips. “Then I’ll be here, however long it takes. And if it must be in the shadows for a little longer, so be it. I’ll stand by you.”

You reach up, drawing him down to you, and your lips meet in a kiss filled with quiet promises, shared dreams, and a bond that feels as unbreakable as it is forbidden. The world outside may be filled with judgments and rivalries, but here, in the warmth of Tyland’s arms, you find a love untouched by Daemon’s anger or the court’s scrutiny.

As the night deepens, you lie together in silence, your shared resolve as strong as the connection between you. And with tomorrow’s promise hanging gently between you, you feel a glimmer of peace, knowing that, soon, the truth will no longer be hidden in the shadows.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd tyland #tyland lannister #tyland x reader #tyland x you #tyland x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #to win a princess

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fckmini · 10 months ago

Note

Hii, im new to your blog and I love your work!! I was wondering if you could do a thranduil x fem elf reader who is the princess of nature so she can control nature etc and they could of met when they were younger and they were arranged to marry and fluffy ending please and thank you :))

I hope you like this @chocotacobread ! thank you SO much for requesting and feel free to send in any more that you have! :) im sorry it took so long!

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Spring - Thranduil x fem elf! Reader romantic fluff

I’m sorry if its too waffly but i wanted to write something pretty!

Thranduil x reader relationship - fluff and romance :)

my masterlist is here - please check out some of my other work if you can!

As always please give me some feedback and please send requests <3

this is written as a part 2 to this request!!

mutuals and ppl I think might be interested: @in-darker-dreams @tolkien-fantasy @the-messy-nessie @blairsanne @aceofatook @lilunoakes @shrimpsthings @the-nerd-procrastinator @khazdith @glorfindelridesagain @therealsomajesticdonki @catnip-and-caprice @blairsanne @leafycasper @ur-gucchi-im-crocs @thelifelemonsgaveyou @emptyspace008 @iactuallyshipeveryone @zemosboy @theelfmaiden @i-did-not-mean-to @gossip-guy-of-middle-earth @catnip-and-caprice

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It was finally spring. Its arrival had always been a cherished event in the Woodland Realm, and this year was no different. A homely warmth seeped into Thranduil's skin, embracing him tenderly. The royal garden, awash with the tender hues of spring, was alive with the soft whisper of cherry blossoms. The sun’s tender touch enlivened soft petals that danced in the wind. They swirled, fluttering gently to the ground like the delicate brush of eyelashes in the morning. The King stood, a spectator to the seasons, his thoughts drifting back in time.

Many springs ago, this very garden witnessed the first meeting of Thanduil and his beloved wife. It had been an arranged marriage, as is custom for elven royalty. The sun had been gleaming with the same fond brightness as it was now. It cast a golden hue that glittered in the iridescent dew that adorned the grass: nature's pearls. He was waiting with bated breath to meet his betrothed when she floated in. A breath of life. A sigh of sunshine. Ripples of grass blossomed beneath each step she took, leaving a constellation of wildflowers and daisies behind her. The air was thick with pollen, heavy with the promise of new life. Otherworldly, even amongst elves. Her very essence seemed intertwined with the earth, and the elven king had been entranced from that first moment.

“Thranduil,” her voice had been soft, melodic, “it is an honour to meet you.”

“And you, my lady,” he had replied, bowing with a grace befitting a king, though his heart had skittered like that of a newborn deer. His eyes of starlight met hers, the deep hue of the sun at dawn. Sunshine incarnate, flowers bloomed before her, but none more so than the elven king. Her smile made the world itself seem dim, her laugh was purer than the tinkling of a rushing stream. He had worn his finest robes, plaited his silver, moonlight, hair in traditional braids. Yet, hers was ornate beyond compare, decorated with a rainbow of blooms, as opalescent as an aurora.

In that moment, two souls had entwined, as is common in elven life-bonds. Once a sapling, their marriage blossomed into a bond that neither could have anticipated. The famously icy temperament of the king thawed beneath her touch and gaze. He melted before her. Their hands, desperate for the nourishing affection of the other, would reach out, hopeful, longing like ancient roots seeking water. The time in his life before her was but a shadow of a memory, too distant and too dark to recall.

"My King," a loving voice broke his reverie. She approached, eternally radiant, still leaving a trail of blossoming flowers behind her.

"My queen," he replied, his voice thick with warmth and reverence.

She joined him. "It is a beautiful day, is it not?" she asked, her hand slipping into his, fitting perfectly as it always had.

"It is." He replied, their eyes met, twinkling with the same light that had captivated the other all those years ago.

Together, they stood in silence, watching the cherry blossoms continue to dance in the breeze. The soft murmur of spring stirred around them. The garden, once a witness to the beginning of their love, now stands testament to its enduring strength. Its growth, how they had flourished, was much like the nature that his queen so cherished.

As they stood there, enveloped in the beauty of spring, they both knew that their love would continue to bloom, season after season, for all eternity.

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shizu-nagita · 12 days ago

Text

The stars are crying. (Pt.2)

I hate tumblr for its paragraph limits. Harebell, Golden berry belong to chibi’s productions, First Jam belongs to allimili, First water belongs to jirai . Their blogs are in the masterlist.

masterlist:

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

Foop!

A Small crack in the air opened up, revealing an inky darkness splattered with stars, and yet nobody at the parlor, all lavishly dressed, batted an eye, the sight familiar enough to know that the light of Eternity had arrived.

The void shimmered, then yielded, and Star Swirl Cookie stepped into the Pearl Parlour. The air, thick with the sweet perfume of moon orchids and the salty tang of the nearby sea as a soothing melody played in the background.

While first Water cookie had asked her to be her bridesmaid, she had told her specifically not to buy a specific dress or theme, instead she had requested them to arrive in their own colors.

{ It just feels sort of wrong to force you to wear something that you usually aren't in, i would just love it if you arrived in what you liked!}

And so, her gown was a star in the twilight hues of a starlit night. Layers of gossamer fabric, the deepest indigo fading into soft, shimmering violets at the hem. Tiny, hand-stitched constellations of silver thread twinkled across the bodice and flowed down the skirt, catching the soft, pearlescent light of the parlour and scattering it in delicate patterns on the polished floor,around her shoulders, she wore a shawl of the same deep indigo, its edges trimmed with delicate silver lace.

Star Swirl Cookie’s fingers clenched, her eyes nervously darting around the extravagant , intricately decorated room, swirls of blue, white, and gold melting into each other with a delicate dance as people chattered away, completely unaware of another’s panic, some even staring at her.

But there is someone , one who noticed when no one else would .

"Star Swirl Cookie!" A familiar voice called out, her voice as light and airy as a summer breeze. "Over here!"

Star Swirl Cookie, her expression a mixture of surprise and relief, turned towards the sound of her name. Her gaze met Harebell Cookie’s, and for a fleeting moment, a spark of recognition passed between them, one of relief, and one of joy.

Harebell Cookie's bridesmaid attire was a breathtaking testament to her inherent wonder, a visual symphony of soft hues and whimsical details. The foundation of the dress was layer upon layer of fine tulle, each dyed in a gradient of periwinkle that deepened into soft lavender at the lower tiers, creating a sense of ethereal depth. These layers weren't stiff or structured, but rather possessed a fluid, almost cloud-like quality, allowing them to billow and sway with her slightest movement.

The bodice was a delicate tapestry of the same pastel tulle, intricately gathered and ruched to create a soft, almost sculpted effect. Tiny, iridescent seed beads, like captured starlight, were meticulously sewn into the fabric, catching the light and adding subtle, shimmering highlights. The neckline was a gentle sweetheart, framing her delicate collarbones and accentuating the graceful curve of her neck. Thin, almost invisible straps of shimmering silver thread rested on her shoulders, adding a touch of delicate support without detracting from the ethereal quality of the tulle.

The embroidery of moonflowers and shooting stars was a focal point of enchantment. The moonflowers were depicted with delicate, silvery petals outlined in the palest lavender, their centers adorned with tiny, opalescent beads that seemed to glow from within. The shooting stars were trails of shimmering amethyst and pale violet thread, each leaving a tiny, sparkling trail of silver sequins in its wake, as if they had just streaked across a twilight sky. These celestial embellishments were scattered across the bodice and flowed down the skirt in graceful, organic patterns, creating a sense of movement and magic.

Adding to the whimsical charm were delicate, almost imperceptible details. Tiny, hand-stitched silver threads formed miniature constellations between the larger embroidered motifs, adding another layer of subtle sparkle. Here and there, tiny, iridescent sequins, shaped like miniature crescent moons and five-pointed stars, were scattered amongst the tulle, catching the light and creating a sense of inner luminescence.

The skirt was a voluminous cascade of the layered tulle, creating a soft, dreamy silhouette that seemed to float around her. As she moved, the different shades of periwinkle and lavender within the layers created a subtle, shifting play of color, like the twilight sky deepening into night. The hemline was deliberately uneven, adding to the whimsical, almost fairy-like quality of the dress.

Finally, peeking from beneath the swirling layers of tulle were her dainty silver slippers. These weren't simply shoes; they seemed crafted from pure moonlight, their surfaces catching and reflecting the light with a soft, ethereal gleam. Tiny, delicate straps of shimmering silver thread crisscrossed her ankles, adding a final touch of delicate enchantment to her already captivating attire. The entire ensemble was a perfect embodiment of wonder, a visual poem of pastel hues and celestial magic.

Her eyes, the color of a twilight sky, sparkled with excitement and understanding as she spotted Star Swirl Cookie standing amidst the crowd. A playful grin spread across her face, she raised a hand in greeting, shifting closer to her through the crowd as First Jam closely followed by. As Harebell Cookie, a whirlwind of periwinkle tulle and boundless energy, finally reached Star Swirl's side, she inadvertently shifted, revealing the figure standing just behind her. It was First Jam Cookie, and their presence seemed to radiate a gentle warmth that contrasted with the cool, pearlescent light of the Pearl Parlour.

First Jam Cookie's attire seemed less a gown and more a manifestation of gentle dawn breaking across a field of fresh cream. The fabric, a whisper-thin silk the color of purest, unsweetened cream, flowed around her with an almost liquid grace, each subtle movement creating soft, ethereal ripples, as if stirred by a celestial breath. The material possessed a delicate luminosity, absorbing the ambient light and radiating a soft, inner warmth.

The neckline was a serenely elegant curve, a gentle arc that highlighted the smooth, graceful lines of First Jam Cookie´s dough, suggesting a quiet strength and inner peace. The sleeves, crafted from the same weightless silk, billowed with an almost imperceptible movement, like the unfurling petals of a sacred white blossom caught in a divine sigh, hinting at a gentle, giving nature.

Adorning this heavenly expanse were accents of a deep, luscious crimson, the very essence of First Jam´s signature , appearing as if brushed onto the fabric by an angel's fingertip. Delicate embroidery, depicting stylized strawberry blossoms with softly rounded petals and slender, swirling vines that seemed to climb towards the heavens, adorned the bodice. These weren't mere stitches; they appeared like delicate veins of lifeblood, subtly pulsing with a gentle energy as they trailed down the skirt, grounding the ethereal cream with a touch of earthly sweetness and organic beauty. A slender ribbon of the same rich crimson was tied loosely around her waist, a gentle embrace that subtly defined her form, adding a soft, vibrant focal point like a sunrise on a snowy landscape.

First Jam´s long, flowing red hair, with its unique, subtly glistening texture reminiscent of warm, freshly stirred jam, cascaded down their back in luminous waves, catching the light and appearing almost like molten starlight, a fiery yet gentle halo. Atop First Jam Cookie´s head rested a simple circlet, woven with an almost divine artistry from pristine white blossoms that seemed to emanate a soft fragrance and tiny, glistening red berries that resembled solidified drops of celestial ambrosia – a natural and understated crown that spoke of purity and quiet joy. Her entire presence exuded a serene and benevolent aura, a heavenly being gracing the earthly celebration with their gentle light.

First Jam…

Just like how others described her.

Was divine.

Star Swirl Cookie just gave a small smile, looking First Jam Cookie and Harbell Cookie up and down, amazed at the sheer beauty of their outfits . “You guys… look magnificent . Truly, Harebell, you need to tell me where you got that fabric from.”

Harebell lets out a small chuckle, amusement on her face as she just smiles. “ I made it! Wonderful isn't it? After all, I didn't spend 4 hours just on design for it to be mediocre, this is First Water’s wedding!”

Star Swirl Cookie’s body tenses, her heart suddenly aching at the reminder, before being forced to relax as she takes in a deep breath, steadying her nerves.

"It truly is a sight!" Harebell Cookie exclaimed, her periwinkle eyes wide with genuine admiration as she gazed at First Jam. "Oh, First Jam Cookie, you look utterly ethereal in that gown! Honestly, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you'd just stepped off a celestial cloud – practically divine!"

A blush, the color of sun-ripened raspberries, bloomed delicately across First Jam Cookie's cheeks. They brought a gloved hand up to gently touch their face, their gaze drifting away with a shy smile. "Don't... exaggerate so, Harebell. It's a special day, all for First Water Cookie. Being here for them is the most important thing."

A comfortable quiet settled between them, punctuated by the soft murmur of conversation as more guests filled the pavilion. The gentle melody that had played earlier transitioned into the lilting strains of a waltz, and couples began to drift towards the center of the room, their movements graceful and slow.

Harebell Cookie watched the dancers for a moment, a wistful expression flickering across her face before she glanced at First Jam, then shook her head with a soft sigh, resuming her cheerful chatter.

Star Swirl Cookie observed this exchange, a subtle understanding dawning in her starlit eyes. A small, knowing smile touched her lips, and she gave Harebell a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Hey," she murmured, "I'll slip away for a bit. You two enjoy yourselves!" She offered a reassuring grin, then gracefully retreated towards the laden beverage tables.

Her jeweled heels clicked softly against the marble floor, the intricate patterns echoing the gentle sway of waves as she carried a plate laden with vibrant fruits to a less occupied table. Settling down, she observed the joyful scene, her gaze lingering on Harebell and First Jam as they moved together on the dance floor, their steps fluid and harmonious. A genuine, if slightly wistful, smile touched her lips.

[ Even if a part of me aches… this day deserves to be perfect for her. ]

A familiar presence settled beside her, a silent weight that brought a sense of grounding amidst the emotional currents. She turned to see Silent Salt Cookie, his lavender hair a calming hue in the vibrant room, his gaze holding an unspoken question.

A small, grateful smile touched Star Swirl’s lips. Silent Salt Cookie… he had been her anchor, the one who had patiently guided her nascent understanding of the world, a steadfast presence in her often-solitary existence.He had cared for her when she was just a small starspeck, unaware of the reality she had just spawned in. While others saw him as stoic and cold, she knew the quiet understanding that lay beneath, a rare soul who sought to comprehend her solitude without judgment.

A comfortable silence stretched between them before a soft murmur, barely audible above the music, reached her ears. "....How are you feeling?"

Star Swirl stilled, her heart giving a momentary lurch before settling back into a steady rhythm. Her hands fidgeted in her lap as she picked up a bright red strawberry, the juicy sweetness staining her lips as she avoided his gaze. Silent Salt Cookie’s amethyst eyes seemed to bore into her, seeking the truth beneath her carefully constructed facade.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice even. "There's nothing to worry about. I can bear it. I am eternity."

He regarded her, his gaze unwavering, a subtle narrowing of his eyes visible through the gap in his helmet, as if trying to decipher the unspoken emotions swirling within her. After a long moment, he released a soft sigh, a sound that held both acceptance and perhaps a hint of knowing. He reached out a gauntleted hand and gently patted hers before silently retreating back into the shadows of the room, leaving her alone once more. Star Swirl continued to nibble on the fruit, the sweetness a temporary distraction from the ache in her soul.

Then, Golden berry Cookie walked over, The joyous melody of the wedding waltz filled the Pearl Parlour, a swirling sea of pastel gowns and celebratory chatter. Her movements were fluid and graceful. Star Swirl turned, her gaze landing on a Golden Berry Cookie as she approached.

Her dress was a deliberate study in understated grandeur, a visual representation of her quiet strength and perceptive nature. It was crafted from a luxurious, flowing fabric in a shade of deep indigo, reminiscent of the twilight sky just before the first stars appear. The material possessed a subtle, almost liquid drape, moving with her every gesture like a silent wave.

The silhouette was an elegant A-line, gently skimming her slender figure without clinging, offering both comfort and a timeless grace. The bodice was simply constructed, perhaps featuring a softly gathered neckline or a subtle sweetheart shape that framed her face delicately. There were no excessive embellishments, allowing the richness of the fabric and the strategic placement of her accent color to speak volumes.

The "bright yellow" was incorporated with thoughtful artistry, appearing as intricate, hand-stitched embroidery that traced delicate, stylized vines and small, abstract floral shapes along the neckline, the narrow straps that graced her shoulders, and a subtle, flowing pattern that cascaded down one side of the skirt. The golden thread caught the ambient light with a soft, internal shimmer, like captured starlight against the deep blue canvas. The design wasn't overtly floral or whimsical, but rather possessed a refined, almost celestial quality.

There, along the dress were small, meticulously crafted appliques, also in a warm, burnished gold. These weren't flat, but possessed a subtle three-dimensionality, resembling tiny, stylized golden berries or perhaps miniature, unfurled leaves. They were strategically placed – a delicate cluster at her shoulder, a scattering along the bodice that subtly drew the eye, and a few near the hem of the skirt, creating a sense of visual harmony without overwhelming the deep blue.

The waistline was subtly defined by a narrow belt of the same deep indigo fabric, fastened with a simple, understated clasp of brushed gold. This provided a gentle cinching point, enhancing her slender figure without breaking the smooth flow of the gown.

The skirt cascaded to the floor in soft folds, its movement graceful and unhurried. The hem was clean and unfussy, allowing the richness of the fabric and the subtle golden accents to remain the focal point.

¨ Planning on passing out again?¨ Golden Berry Cookie asks, her jeweled heels clicking against the floor as she stops in front of Star Swirl Cookie, standing as she raises an eyebrow, pupils examining Star Swirl Cookie .

Star Swirl Cookie sighs, bringing up a piece of cantaloupe, its flavors sweet and refreshing as she gently pulls out a chair for Golden Berry to sit in, offering another plate of fruits .

¨ Will you ever let that incident go? ¨

“No,΅ Golden Berry Cookie says almost immediately, pausing only to take a seat next to her where Silent Salt Cookie used to sit just a few moments prior, picking up a piece of pineapple as she pops it into her mouth, perfectly manicured nails glinting in the light. “Frankly, I don't think I ever will, It's good blackmail material. ¨

Star Swirl gives a dramatic gasp, hand placed over her chest as her shawl swayed to the side from the force of the movement, ¨ You wound me, how could you ever black mail your friend ?¨

Golden Berry Cookie scoffs, ΅Oh please, you have enough dirt on me, this one piece of information will only get first Jam Cookie to lock you in a bed and keep you there for only a mere week.¨

Golden Berry cookie´s eyes trail over, locking onto the sight of First Jam Cookie and Harebell Cookie dancing together in a rhythm only they knew, her grip tightening as her eyes darkened with sorrow.

Star Swirl Cookie looked at Golden Berry Cookie´s forlorn expression, legs crossing as the other took in a deep breath, as if schooling the rampaging emotions underneath her facade .

In a way, they weren't so different .

They both yearned for an unobtainable dream .

Star Swirl Watches a myriad of emotions flicker in Golden Berry´s eyes before watching her sigh and lean back in her chair, picking up one of her signature golden berries and eating it, golden juice smeared on her lip as she elegantly wipes it away the next moment with a napkin

Then, a clear, resonant voice, amplified by unseen magic, filled the pavilion. "Attention, esteemed guests, could we have all the bridesmaids make their way to the bride's dressing room, please?"

Star Swirl looked up at the source of the announcement, the magical sigils shimmering in the air, undoubtedly a creation of the Fount of Knowledge's power. With a sigh, she straightened, the layers of her starlit gown billowing softly around her as she smoothed out imaginary creases. Rising gracefully, she made her way towards the far end of the room, where she could now see First Jam Cookie and Harebell Cookie waiting at a doorway, their expressions a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

[ Don’t let them know. Today is special. Don't ruin it with your greed.]

The air in the Pearl Parlor shimmered with anticipation, the scent of freshly baked cookies mingling with the delicate fragrance of moon orchids. First Water, resplendent in a gown of shimmering pearls,Tides of seafoam curling around her in a form of a long, resplendent gown, stood at the altar, their eyes sparkling with a nervous excitement that mirrored the nervous energy buzzing through the room.

Instead of a traditional veil, a delicate mist, seemingly spun from moonlight and sea spray, drifted around their head and shoulders, occasionally swirling and revealing glimpses of their bright, watery eyes. Tiny droplets of condensed moisture clung to their translucent hair, sparkling like scattered diamonds.

And then, there they were: the bridesmaids.

Harebell Cookie, a vision in periwinkle and purple, fluttered towards the altar, her laughter light and infectious. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back, framing her face, and her eyes, the color of a twilight sky, sparkled with genuine joy.

First jam gracefully walked down the aisle, dress billowing out in softer cream curves as the light reflected off the bright fabric, casting her in a gentle, otherworldly glow , the light filtering through her hair created patterns of dark red swirls, taking her place right by Harebell Cookie´s side .

Then came Golden Berry Cookie, her long sleek dress spreading out in a delicate train across the marbled floor, midnight blue hair billowing out and framing her features perfectly, the golden accents on her body accentuating her color palette even more, yet a turmoil of emotions flickered in her bright honey eyes , her gaze locked on Harebell laughing with First Jam Cookie.

Following close behind, Star Swirl Cookie moved with a quiet grace, her starlit gown trailing behind her like a celestial wake. Her expression was serene, almost serene, a carefully constructed mask that hid the breakings of the soul within the vessel, carefully observing her surroundings, trying to find something to distract her from the main couple before ultimately closing her eyes .

[ It is her choice. Respect it.]

She repeated that thought like a mantra, like a wish that might come true if she prayed hard enough, as if she truly could be content with first Water´s wedding and ignore the burn inside her chest.

And as she opened her eyes, her breath hitched, iit seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she would still be enchanted by the mere sight of First Water Cookie.

[ She was beautiful in her prime.]

First Water Cookie, on her wedding day, was a vision of oceanic splendor, a being seemingly sculpted from the very essence of the sea. Their gown was a masterpiece of liquid grace, a breathtaking testament to the beauty and power of their element.

a dress that wasn't simply made, but grown from the depths. The base was a shimmering fabric, the color of the deepest ocean trench, a rich, velvety blue-black that hinted at untold mysteries. Over this, layers upon layers of translucent material flowed, each catching the light and mimicking the undulating movement of waves. These layers weren't stiff or structured; they moved with an ethereal fluidity, creating the illusion of constant, gentle motion.

Adorning this oceanic canvas were countless pearls, each one unique and luminous. They weren't simply sewn on; they seemed to organically bloom from the fabric, clustered in patterns that resembled swirling currents, cascading waterfalls, and the delicate froth of seafoam. Some were tiny seed pearls, creating intricate patterns that traced the curves of their form, while others were larger, more luminous spheres that caught and refracted the light, scattering rainbows with every movement.

Woven throughout the gown were delicate strands of what appeared to be solidified moonglades, shimmering silver threads that mimicked the play of light on the water's surface. These threads created subtle, shifting patterns, like moonbeams dancing on the waves, adding an otherworldly luminescence to the already breathtaking dress.

The neckline was a graceful, sweeping curve, reminiscent of the horizon where the sky meets the sea, leaving their smooth, water-kissed dough bare. Sleeves, crafted from the same translucent fabric as the flowing layers, billowed out from their shoulders like ethereal seafoam, their edges shimmering with a delicate, iridescent sheen. They moved with a gentle, undulating rhythm, as if still connected to the ocean's tides.

Instead of a traditional veil, a delicate mist, seemingly spun from sea spray and moonlight, drifted around their head and shoulders. Tiny droplets of condensed moisture clung to their translucent hair, sparkling like scattered diamonds, completing the image of a being born from the heart of the ocean.

And inevitably, her eyes drew towards the Virtue of Knowledge, Shadow Milk Cookie, entranced by First Water too, adoration and love etched into his face as heterochromatic eyes gazed lovingly upon First Water´s form.

Her heart clenched with envy.

First Jam, ever perceptive, caught the flicker of emotion in Star Swirl’s eyes. A subtle shift in their expression, a fleeting shadow crossing their features, acknowledged the unspoken undercurrent between them. It was a silent acknowledgement, a shared understanding of the complexities that lay beneath the surface of this joyous occasion.

And then, Harebell, ever the optimist, broke the silence with a mischievous grin. “Ready to catch the bouquet, Star Swirl?” she teased, her voice light and airy.

Star Swirl managed a weak smile. “As if I could ever catch anything that falls from the sky,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Harebell chuckled. “Never say never, Star Swirl. After all, even the stars sometimes fall.”

Star Swirl looked away, unable to meet Harebell’s gaze. The words, meant as a playful jest, echoed with a painful irony. Stars, like dreams, could fall. And sometimes, when they did, they left behind a trail of stardust and a lingering sense of loss.

As the ceremony began, Star Swirl tried to focus on the vows, on the radiant joy that emanated from First Water and First Jam. But the echoes of her own unspoken feelings, the haunting memories of a future she could never truly claim, continued to linger, a discordant note in the symphony of celebration.….

Smile, because it is her wedding day, and she would want you to be happy.

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

The wedding vows were a blur to Star Swirl cookie, having tuned out a long time ago, Harebell bristling with excitement and tears in her eyes , her hands clinging onto First Jam Cookie’s arms as First Jam just stood there, posture elegant and graceful as she watched the procession with a knowing eye.

Star Swirl didn't see periwinkle crimson, and amber eyes dart back to her, as if attempting to gauge her emotions before turning their attention back to the main two, a hint of concern in their eyes as she just stands there, a smile on Star Swirl Cookie’s face.

[ Oh how I wish that could've been me. But.. In the end i suppose we were not destined to be together, for the water will always gravitate towards the moon, and never the stars ]

Star Swirl cookie sighed, retreating to the back of the room after the vows were made, the words too sharp for her to bear as she stilled near the corner of the room, a cocktail in her hand as she held it by the delicate stem of the glass.

¨ Hey, Star Swirl? Are you… Okay?¨

Eyes widening, she looks up to see First Jam in front of her, crimson eyes flickering with worry and concern as she steps closer, her robes swaying with each movement in a graceful sway .

[ Even as the world continues on, someone will come by , going backwards to bring another with them towards the future.]

A small smile, tinged with sorrow spreads across Star Swirl Cookie´s face .

¨I…. I'm doing alright, thank you for worrying. ¨ Her hands fidget with the sleek fabric of her dress, twisting and pulling the fabric in one hand as the other sets down the cocktail .

First Jam´s head tilts to the side, before shaking her head and sighing . ¨ Sometimes I wonder why you hide yourself away, but… take your time. We have enough of it.¨ She offers her hand, pearly white satin gloves shimmering in the light.

Star Swirl Cookie stared at her hand, before sighing. “ Thank you, for understanding.¨ Her hand hesitates, before reaching out to take First Jam Cookie´s hand.

¨ What sort of friend would i be if i didn't give you time? ¨ First Jam gives a small laugh, amusement dancing in her eyes as she gently tugs her towards the center, where First Water, in all her pearlescent glory laughed, the aquamarine ring on her finger glimmered.

Star Swirl Cookie felt her soul slowly crack open, the eternity she longed for now out of her reach, but that was okay, as long as she wasn't alone, as long as they Stayed, She´d be alright.

[ Or well, that's what i thought]

“Star Swirl Cookie! Come on, you're missing out on the fun!!!” A bubbly First Water dashed over, cold gloved hands grasping her wrists as she pulled Star Swirl Cookie further into the fray of people, First Jam cookie giving a small smile as she laughed at the display.

[ Even if the sun fell from its place in the sky, I would still chase you.]

And so, with a smile tinged with yearning, she allowed herself to be pulled into the center of the party, First Water Cookie’s energy infectious as she laughed and danced with the others, Golden Berry Cookie watching from the sidelines sipping on a cocktail created from her own golden berries, elation dancing through the air.

Yet, we were all blind.

We all decided to ignore the truth, we all decided to stop pursuing our reality, allowing ourselves to get lost in a single moment as one of the pillars of the world crumbled, the virtue of change wasn't there .

That was the scariest part.

No one decided to piece together the facts, having just labeled his disappearance from the recent events as just a coincidence, not bothering to check on him, not bothering to see if he was alright.

In this world, ignorance is a sin with consequences .

And unfortunately, the consequence would bring down an era.

After all, watching your creations die over and over again could break someone.

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

It's been… a few centuries ever since First Water had gotten married, yet the sting wasn't any better, the sight of the Fount of Knowledge and First Water together still burning a hole deep into her heart but she just stayed silent, unwilling to ruin their happiness all because of her greed.

But that was not what bothered Star Swirl Cookie.

An unsettling discord hummed beneath the surface of Star Swirl Cookie's usually serene perception. A feeling so profoundly wrong, so utterly out of sync with the familiar rhythm of eternity, gnawed at her. It was a persistent itch in her awareness, driving her to meticulously comb through the intricate tapestry of her schedule, her fingers ghosting over celestial alignments and diplomatic arrangements. Multiple passes through her inventory of stardust and enchanted artifacts yielded nothing amiss, yet the feeling persisted, a shadow clinging to the edges of her consciousness.

The unease clung to her throughout the day, a subtle tremor beneath her practiced composure. Even the bright, effervescent company of Harebell Cookie, usually a balm to any lingering worries, failed to dispel the growing anxiety. It felt as though an unseen darkness was slowly encroaching upon their vibrant civilization, a silent predator poised to seize its opportunity and plunge the world into an era of shadow.

Unable to bear the mounting tension any longer, Star Swirl instinctively reached out, her fingers latching onto the cool, smooth fabric of Harebell's sleeve. The sudden tug halted Harebell in her tracks, her broom sighing as it lowered gently to the ground. Turning, her periwinkle eyes widened with concern, the usual sparkle of wonder replaced by a genuine curiosity.

"Star Swirl Cookie?" Harebell asked softly, her brow furrowing. "What's wrong? You seem... deeply troubled."

"I-I…" Star Swirl stammered, the simple words catching like thorns in her throat. Harebell Cookie's concerned expression swam in her vision, the vibrant colors blurring at the edges as a crushing weight, heavy and inexplicable, settled upon her shoulders. A profound sense of wrongness permeated the air, a silent scream echoing in her soul, yet the source remained elusive.

"Hey, calm down," Harebell said gently, her voice a soothing balm. "It'll be okay. Take a deep breath with me. That's it." She met Star Swirl's gaze, the familiar sparkle of wonder now replaced by a sharp, knowing concern that sent another shiver down Star Swirl's spine.

Star Swirl swallowed hard, the metallic tang of fear coating her tongue. A cold sweat beaded on her brow as the jarring absence of something – a fundamental element of her existence – pressed in on her, a physical discomfort that went beyond mere anxiety. The eternity she had always known, the endless, predictable rhythm of time, felt fractured, altered in a way she couldn't comprehend.

A fragile whisper escaped her lips, a question born of a desperate need for confirmation. "Does… something feel off to you today?"

As the words hung in the air, a cloud drifted across the sun, casting a sudden, ominous shadow over them. Harebell Cookie stiffened, her periwinkle eyes widening with a dawning panic that mirrored Star Swirl's own growing dread.

"It… wasn't just me?" she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, fear laced in her voice.

Star Swirl Cookie’s breath hitched, a strangled gasp trapped in her lungs. Her starlit eyes widened, pupils dilating as a raw, primal terror clawed its way up her throat, leaving a bitter taste of dread.

[If it reached Harebell… then that meant…]

The unspoken thought hung heavy in the suddenly stifling air, a chilling premonition of a widespread corruption, a creeping tendril of darkness reaching even the most vibrant souls.

“Do you know what’s happening?” Star Swirl Cookie whispered, her voice a fragile thread, her usual bright gaze fixed on the horizon. The sky above them was a cruel paradox – a canvas of brilliant sunlight tainted with an unsettling undercurrent of gloom, as if a beautiful painting was slowly being stained by an invisible ink.

Harebell Cookie shook her head, her platinum blonde hair swaying with the tremor that ran through her. “I don’t…” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “The only thing… the only terrifyingly blind thing we can do… is try to find out.”

A palpable tension thickened the air between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unseen threat that clung to their world. They lingered for a moment, drawing a fragile comfort from each other's presence before the inevitable parting. Star Swirl Cookie's grip on Harebell's sleeve loosened with a reluctant slide, yet her hands trembled, betraying the storm of unspoken fears churning within her.

"If anything… shifts further," Star Swirl pleaded, her starlit eyes locking onto Harebell's, "tell me. Please. Don't hesitate."

Harebell Cookie sighed, a puff of worried air that ruffled her platinum blonde hair. She offered a strained nod, her usual buoyant energy dimmed by the encroaching dread. "I'll try," she promised, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll alert you the instant I sense anything… significant."

Star Swirl released a shaky breath, her fingers fidgeting nervously, picking at the delicate skin around her nails. It was a meager reassurance, a fragile thread of hope in the growing darkness, but it was all she would get for now.

"Thank you, Harebell Cookie," she murmured, her voice heavy with unspoken anxiety. She watched as Harebell offered a tight smile before mounting her broom. The lavender fabric of her dress billowed in the wind as she ascended.

"Be safe, Harebell!" Star Swirl called out, her voice echoing with a desperate urgency.

"You too, Star Swirl!" The distant reply drifted back, the words faint but carrying a sliver of warmth against the encroaching cold. Star Swirl watched until Harebell's form was a mere speck against the unsettlingly bright sky, the fragile comfort of their brief connection fading with the distance.

Taking one last look at Harebell’s retreating figure, she turns, her own starlit robes billowing the wind as the tendrils of dread gnaw at her mind, her body moving towards her parlor .

[ We just have to pray that everything will be okay.]

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

The air in Star Swirl Cookie’s pavilion, usually humming with a gentle celestial energy, suddenly fractured. It wasn't a sound, but a visceral severing, as if invisible cords binding her to something fundamental had snapped. A cold dread bloomed in her chest, a hollow ache where warmth had once resided.

Something has been lost. The thought wasn't a whisper, but a chilling pronouncement in the silent chambers of her soul. A sickening lurch twisted in her gut, her lungs constricted, as if an unseen hand had squeezed the very air from them. A piece of her essence, something intrinsically tied to the delicate balance of eternity, seemed to crumble and dissolve within her, its precious dust slipping through her immortal fingers.

What… happened? The question was a silent scream in the sudden void.

BAM!

The ornate doors to her pavilion exploded inward, splintering wood flying across the polished floor. A guard stumbled out, his face a mask of terror, streaks of viscous, bright red strawberry jam oozing down his charred armor. Flames, an unnatural, furious crimson, licked at the edges of his plating, casting grotesque shadows that danced with his panicked movements. The ethereal starry gauze draping the walls now bore sickening crimson stains, stark against its delicate shimmer. The guard collapsed at the threshold, his breath rattling.

“Your… lady…” he choked, blood bubbling at his lips. “The Virtue… of Change… he corrupted…”

Disbelief, sharp and cold, pierced through Star Swirl’s dawning horror. She rose as if pulled by invisible strings, her starlit eyes wide with incomprehension. She moved towards the fallen guard, her flowing robes whispering against the bloodied floor, and gently gathered him into her arms, her celestial magic instinctively reaching out, tendrils of starlight attempting to mend the horrific damage to his broken form.

“Don’t speak,” she commanded, her voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil within. She gestured sharply to the remaining guards, their faces etched with fear. “Half of you secure the pavilion and protect any civilians. The other half – assess the situation outside! Now!”

With a desperate urgency, the remaining guards surged into action, their footsteps echoing the frantic beat of her own heart. Alarms, sharp and insistent, began to toll throughout the surrounding area, their mournful clangour creating a chaotic symphony of fear as cookies rushed in and out, their frantic movements a blur against the backdrop of encroaching chaos.

Her hands pressed against the guard’s ravaged chest, shimmering sparks of pure starlight weaving into the blackened, crispy edges of his burnt flesh. Her brow furrowed in fierce concentration, a silent plea etched on her face, dread and panic on her face

The horrifying truth, the reason for her and Harebell Cookie´s shared, creeping unease, was because the Virtue of Change, the very linchpin that filtered and maintained the delicate equilibrium of their reality, had fallen. Corrupted. And in its absence, there was no guiding hand, no internal compass to signal the catastrophic shift, leaving them adrift in a world subtly, devastatingly, unmoored. They were blind, stumbling towards an unknown abyss, the very foundations of their existence silently eroding beneath their feet.

What…? Why would he do this?

In the end, I will never know.

But I will try. I have to try to uphold eternity, even as it crumbles around me.

Her hands faltered, the immense weight of expectation, the unwavering belief of her people in her power, suddenly felt like an unbearable physical burden, pressing her down as surely as the lifeless weight in her arms. The guard beneath her chest stilled, his ragged breathing ceasing altogether.

A choked voice from behind her broke the horrifying silence. “Your lady… he’s gone.”

What? No…

Star Swirl Cookie looked down, her hands now slick with the guard’s bright red jam, a stark and horrifying contrast to the ethereal glow of her magic. His chest remained motionless, his once terrified eyes now fixed on the empty expanse of the ceiling.

When…? When did I stop trying? When did I fail him?

But the answers remained lost in the unfolding catastrophe. For in that moment, as the scent of smoke and fear filled the air, a terrifying certainty took root: from this day forward, the pillars of their world would begin to fall, one by one, and Star Swirl Cookie, the supposed guardian of eternity, would fall with them.

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

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eternalstarlitwonderland · 4 months ago

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Brilliant Diamond

As darkness envelops the world, the enchanting hour of starlight unfolds

A silvery glimmer, ethereal and soft, spread across the sky, each star brilliantly twinkling like a precious gem

In this celestial dance, there exists a lone star, frail and flickering, struggling to maintain its place on the delicate stratospheric thread

Separated from the vibrant constellations, it lingers in solitude

Quietly anticipating the moment when it will finally drift downwards, embracing the cosmic journey that awaits it beyond the vast expanse

The fallen star began their descension, and they gracefully gilded downward, each movement almost ethereal

The atmosphere shimmered with anticipation; as they descended, their radiant lights illuminated the earth below, casting a warm, ethereal glow that painted the landscape in a silvery-white hue that danced among the shadows, transforming the scenery into a tapestry of wonder

The descension concluded with a silvery flash; it settled onto the unsuspecting location, creating a massive crater

The star brilliantly illumined the circumambient and blinded the northward, revealing itself as a pure and natural uncut diamond

The starlight always has a way of conveying the mystique of existence, although it wasn't possible to think of

Once again ignited with light, the twinkling star radiated a brilliance unlike before

This time, its shimmering glow was a gentle, inviting warmth reminiscent of a cozy fire on a chilly evening

The luminous hues danced in the air, creating a harmonious blend of fluorescent brightness and the soothing glow of incandescent warmth, casting empyreal shadows that danced softly across the landscape, embracing twinkling comfort and ethereal beauty, making the night seem less intimidating and more inviting as if the star had woven a comforting blanket of light across the vast expanse of the cosmos

It stood firm like an unyielding boulder; its surface gleamed with the clarity and brilliance of a perfectly cut gemstone, each facet reflecting light with exquisite precision, catching and refracting light in a dazzling array of colors, and as smooth as the slickest sheet of ice, with a flawless texture that glides effortlessly beneath the touch

Relentlessly brilliant, it sparkled magnificently, even when shrouded in the dark embrace of tenebrosity, revealing hidden facets that glimmered like stars in a moonless night

Beneath the vast expanse, velvet canopy of night, a young stargazer stood mesmerized by the myriad twinkling stars dancing playfully above her, like diamonds scattered on black velvet

As she gazed up, captivated by their radiant glint, each twinkle above sparked a deep sense of wonder within her

Suddenly, her gaze was drawn to a brilliant light that coruscated overhead, a rare gem of luminosity that beckoned her to investigate its origins; venturing closer, she discovered the source of this ethereal light

To her astonishment, she found a fallen star nestled among the soft grass, with its luminous aura pulsating in enchanting waves, emanating a dazzling zing that resonated in the air, captivating her senses

It emitted a steady stream of prismatic light that danced throughout; each flicker of its brilliance sparked curiosity within her, drawing her nearer

The starlight danced around it, enveloping it in a subtle iridescence, bathing it in a soft shimmer, accentuating its delicate facets that sparkled like a thousand tiny jewels caught in the moonlight; each flash of a diamond-like fallen star revealed its radiant beauty

A cascade of glitter danced around it, creating a delicate twinkle that lit up the night; the fallen star unleashed a cascade of dazzling glitter, its brilliant luminosity creating delicate sparkles that illuminated the surrounding darkness; she carefully picked up the brilliantly lit orb, cradling it gently, letting its warmth spill into her palms As she was cradling its ethereal glow, she felt a profound connection; at that moment, everything stood utterly still, as if the universe had pressed the pause button, leaving everything frozen in a delicate balance, waiting for the next heartbeat to resume its rhythm; its external shine that burned brightly within and reflected her dreams and aspirations, waiting to be realized

#my writting #written by me #astronomy #stars #my words #words #starry writes #original poem #poem #poetry #brilliant diamond

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dollescent · 4 months ago

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A Lax Day in the Life of Princess Vaelyra Velaryon

Morning: The Radiance of Dawn

The first light of day kissed Vaelyra’s chambers with golden hues, illuminating the treasures she adored—pearls, delicate shells, and polished stones gleaming softly against the silken backdrop of her sanctuary. Her bed, draped in seafoam green and adorned with Myrish lace, cradled her like a gentle wave.

Vaelyra stirred and yawned, her white sea of her hair fanned across the pillows, iridescent: pink as the interior of a seashell, blue as a dawn over the ocean, gold like the sun rising over the same. Her mismatched eyes, one of blue color like the sky at dawn and the other light violet like the budding flower at dawn, shining like twin stars awakening from slumber.

Her maids entered, the sound of their voices chorusing perfectly with the coming of the sea breeze with the windows opening; their quiet shuffles harmonizing with the sea breeze filtering through the open windows. Rising gracefully, Vaelyra allowed them to wrap her in a robe of lilac silk, the fabric as soft as a lover’s caress.

Her bath awaited, a ritual of luxury and peace–a symbol of cleansing and serenity. The water glistened with crushed pearls, sea salt, and fragrant oils of dragonflower and citrus. Vaelyra rested against the soft arms of the tub, the maids washing her hair with the respect of royalty, and skin with reverent care. When she emerged, her skin resembled the sheen of the rising sun along the shoreline; her curls were supple and smooth, set in a waterfall like style, pinned with a delicate circlet of pearls.

Her gown for the day was chosen with the same care and precision—a flowing sea-green creation adorned with silver waves and golden dragons, pearls stitched along the neckline and cuffs. Her jewelry reflected her dual heritage: a necklace of Arraexys’ shed scales and a bracelet of Driftmark’s finest pearls.

Daytime: Grace in Motion

Vaelyra spent her day reveling in leisure and the simple joys of life. She wandered barefoot along Driftmark’s beaches, with her dress as light as the winds that blew, her eyes sparkling like starlight on water. With a small woven basket in hand, she collected sea treasures—iridescent shells, smooth stones, and fragments of coral.

She ventured into the gardens, where blooms of every hue vied for her attention. Her fingers brushed against petals and leaves as she strolled, hearing the birds chirp, her voice rising in soft song as though the flowers themselves deserved her melody.

Gathered under a pergola draped in roses, Vaelyra shared the afternoon with her ladies-in-waiting. They brought trays of delicate pastries—lemon tarts, lavender shortbread, and honey cakes—and pitchers of sweet wine cooled in ice. Their laughter mingled with the rustling of leaves, and Vaelyra’s clever remarks elicited delighted peals of mirth.

Evening: The Gilded Glow of Twilight

As the sun dipped low, Vaelyra returned to her chambers. Her maids helped her out of her daytime gown, carefully folding it away. She slipped into a bath once more, this time cool and calming, infused with chamomile, mint, and moonflower.

Her evening wear was softer and more intimate—a gown of pale silks and Myrish lace in shades of dusk, her hair unbound.She put on a pendant of pearls and dragon scales, the colors symbolizing her family’s love and roots.

Vaelyra dined lightly, savoring honeyed fruits and sipping a goblet of sweet wine. Afterward, she settled by the window with her journal, writing by candlelight as the sea whispered secrets just beyond the walls.

Night: The Quiet Majesty of Dreams

When the hour grew late, Vaelyra prepared for rest. Her maids turned down her bed, the silken sheets cool and inviting. She gazed at the treasures arranged around her room, her fingers lightly brushing a particularly large lush pearl she had carried with her throughout the day.

She slipped beneath the covers, the linen felt like a blanket of cumulus clouds against her skin, and closed her radiant eyes. Her breathing steadied, the gentle rise and fall of her chest resembling the ebb and flow of the sea.

Even in sleep, Vaelyra remained a vision of ethereal beauty, a dream wrapped in silks and starlight, carrying with her the whispers of fire and water.

ib: @hrrtshape

banner credits: enchanthings, sseuda

#hotd dr #reality shifter #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #loassumption #manifesation #hotd #hotd shifting #game of thrones shifting #dollescent

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thatacotargirl · 11 months ago

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The Daughter of Day (1)

My third and final active fanfiction is here! This is The Daughter of Day, a series exploring a new Court and a triad, because why not!

I hope you enjoy this introductory chapter - and keep your eyes peeled for the next instalment 🌟

This story is set after A Court of Silver Flames.

My inbox remains open for oneshot/imagine requests.

A Reader x Feysand Fanfiction

🎶 "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine - you make me happy, when skies are grey - you'll never know, dear, how much I love you - please don't take, my sunshine, away" 🎶

Helion held his newborn daughter, bundled in his arms in a yellow blanket, as he swayed gently around the nursery. He had had no intentions of becoming a father anytime soon, but when the baby's mother arrived at his doorsteps, he had fallen in love on the spot - those chubby cheeks and shining round eyes that peered out at him had captured his heart and soul.

Now, he couldn't imagine life without her.

Placing his daughter into her bassinet, watching her sweet eyes grow heavy and blinking, he set her floating celestial mobile to turn and tucked her in. Stroking her cheek as he watched her slowly fall asleep, he vowed to love and protect her for always. She would want for nothing in this life, he would make sure of that.

25 years later - Reader POV

"Y/n, are you ready?"

You can hear your father calling out to you, interrupting your reading. Grumbling, you grab your bookmark and note the page, before setting it down on the coffee table. The middle of a chapter. The worst place to stop reading.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming".

As you exit the sitting room and join your father's side, you see the look he gives you in response to your attitude. His eyebrow still raised, he stays silent as he opens the front door and gestures for you to leave the palace. You walk ahead of him and towards Xalan, your pegasus. Your father had gifted you Xalan on your 10th birthday and the pair of you were thick as thieves; much to his horror. You had Xalan wrapped around your little finger and often got yourselves into all sorts of trouble that Helion would have to rescue you both from. One time, you'd ended up in Thesan's bedroom in the middle of the night - and nearly gave the High Lord a heart attack before Helion was able to arrive and scoop you away, profusely apologising. He still apologises every time he sees Thesan for the embarrassment.

You mount Xalan and wait for your father to join with Meallan. Once you are both comfortable, he gestures for you both to take flight.

"This is a diplomatic meeting, y/n, so you have to be on your best behaviour. You are the heir to the Day Court, which means you represent the Court and me".

You don't reply. There's no need to, really. You will sit demurely and smile, speak when spoken to, and daydream otherwise of what life could offer you if you could just break free.

You had everything you could possibly want at the Day Court, your father made sure of that. But it didn't quench the desire in you to explore and see new horizons. 25 years in the confines of Day, only being able to satisfy your curiosity of Prythian by reading historical literature, was really taking its toll. You didn't mean to start acting out, but the boredom was driving you insane.

As you begin your descent into Velaris, the Night Court's City of Starlight, you can't help but notice the colours. The Sidra, the river running through the city, looked like it contained iridescent starlight. Flowers bloomed in deep blues and purples in people's front gardens. The mountain ranges in the distance seem to sparkle even in the daytime. You can hear people bustling about the streets, happy chatting and laughter fill the air.

Landing with a gentle thud before a riverfront house, you carefully guide Xalan to a stop and follow your father to a grassy sideline where the pair can graze happily. Once both pegasus' are settled, you watch your father round to the door and knock heavily.

"Helion, welcome!" comes a booming voice as the door swings wide open.

"A pleasure as always, Rhysand".

You see your father embrace the High Lord of Night as you stand behind, awkwardly. As Rhysand pulls away, he looks behind Helion to see you standing there. Helion notices Rhysand's wide eyes and turns to introduce you.

"Rhysand, this is my daughter, y/n. I thought it was time she learn the ways of the business, since she will one day take over from me after all", he laughs, guiding me to stand in front of him. Rhysand kindly takes my hand in his, shaking it gently.

"Welcome to Velaris, y/n". He smiles at you with kind eyes, which you return, before shyly pulling your hand away and tucking it behind your back.

"Helion, I had no idea you had a daughter?"

"Yes, well, I tried to keep her out of the spotlight to let her have a normal childhood; but she was getting restless in Day".

So he had noticed.

"Do come in, both of you".

Rhysand opened the door wider and moved, allowing you both passage into his home. You noticed the paintings that adorned the hallway, stopping at one in particular. It was one of your father, in the midst of the war 45 years ago, wielding his Spell-Cleaving powers with Hybern's army visibly falling in the distance. You had read about your father's role in the war, but only through reading the history books in his library. He never spoke of it, no matter how often you asked.

"Remarkable, isn't it? Feyre, my mate, painted this from a memory of your father during the war. He was a force to be reckoned with, took down nearly half the army on his own".

You turned to Rhysand with a gasp.

"Really?"

He looked at you, his face shrouded with confusion.

"He was formidable, y/n. Really, Prythian wouldn't be standing if it wasn't for him".

You turn back to gaze at the portrait, lost in thought. If your father had powers strong enough to single-handedly take down half an army, what could yours do with the right training? Helion was reluctant to let you do more than basic healing spells, worried that you would accidentally hurt yourself with your powers if left to your own devices. You could feel the power in you, strumming through your fingertips, begging to be wielded.

"Y/n?".

You turn and see your father standing in the doorway, silently beckoning for you to join him in the office. You sigh, thoughts of powers ebbing away, as you join him to discuss peace-making treaties with the mortal lands.

After you had been introduced to the rest of the Night Court, and they had gotten over the shock of Helion's 25-year-old daughter making a sudden appearance, the meeting carried on as normal. You mind wandered often, to the streets outside of the house, to the painting of your father and the power you could feel exuding from it, and you could feel yourself getting restless.

When the meeting was finally finished and you and your father had began the flight home, you couldn't help but wonder what your life would be like if you left the nest of the Day Court. And, as you watched Xalan in flight, his wings outspread through the sky - you realised it was time to spread your own.

"Father".

"Yes, sunshine?"

"I'd like to take a trip".

"Where would you like to go, my love? We could visit the continent, if you'd like?".

"A trip on my own, dad".

You can feel your father's gaze piercing you, but you refused to look up and meet his eyes.

"On your own?"

"I'm suffocating, dad. I need to live a little. Please. Just for a few weeks, just some distance from Day, so I can learn and explore and have fun like any other 25-year-old".

"But you're not any other 25-year-old, you're heir to the Day Court. You are a target".

"Then let me go somewhere where I'm not a target, where I can be protected. Please, dad".

You can feel your eyes pricking with tears, and not from the blowing wind. Your head is still bowed, but you know your father can sense them, can sense your heartache. He remains silent for a few minutes.

"I can, perhaps, ask Rhysand if he would grant you permission to stay in Velaris for a short while".

"Please, dad. Anything".

You meet his gaze and can see the pain in his face. His heart torn between keep you safe, but keeping his promise to you to want for nothing. And, it was becoming more obvious to him now, that what you wanted was to leave.

"Ok. I hear you. I will send a request to Rhysand when we are home".

#a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar x y/n #a court of mist and fury #a court of frost and starlight #feysand #feysand x reader #rhysand x reader #feyre x rhysand #feyre x reader #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver #high lord helion

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pursuitseternal · 2 years ago

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“Welcome Me:”Ascended Astarion x F!Reader, a fic to sate your desires, darling in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x Reader | E | 5.3K Vampire smut

Summary: After the ending of the storyline… After weeks apart, the blink of an eye for you immortals, Astarion returns from consolidating his rule, expecting a “warm welcome.” But you miss your charming, tortured rogue… and you will play whatever games he wants to get him to remember. To make him remember the rogue he was.

Cw: dom/sub dynamics, choking, breath play, spanking, “don’t move unless I tell you😈,” power play, biting (obviously), blood kink and drinking (vampires, duh), NSFW on so many levels.

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

It is late, the candles have all gutted out, the lingering scent of smoke wafting to your nose as you wind your way through hall after hall of the Crimson Palace. Your head would be swimming, should be swimming, with the amount of potent High Fae wine you have consumed.

But you are turned, your body pulses with ascendant blood in your veins. His blood.

Even as your irritation at him burns hot, you cannot deny how your body trembles to think of your master. And even as you leave the long vacant ballroom, you sigh his name to no one but the air… Astarion. He has been so distant of late, pulled from your side all day and night, meeting with important and powerful beings. Consolidating his… your… power as you take what is yours from Baldur’s Gate. No one cuts a deal, turns a profit, threatens your security without the effects lining your pockets or without enemies ending up dead. Drained. Signs to those who oppose Astarion the Ascended. Your mind fills with that shining smirk, those glowing crimson eyes framed in lustrous pale skin.

Your heart skips a beat. For the first time in weeks you saw him tonight, mingling at the ball, turning heads all around him, persuading with words, with promises of power and gold, if not with promises of his body. No. Never that again. That body is yours as you are his. He will never whore himself out anymore. Those days are so far behind him, you must always take caution never to mention what it was for him before his ascension. That vampire rogue that trapped you between his hard, cold thighs to hold a dagger to your throat.

Love at first sight.

You shake your head. No, not love. Obsession. Fascination. His thrall long before he gave you his blood.

You pass open windows, billowing curtains of finest gauze catching in the nighttime breezes. Starlight cuts the darkness in iridescent beams, patches of brilliance flooding the shadows that cling to every corner. You lose yourself, smelling the wine on your own breath as you sigh, looking into the sky at the multitudes of stars above.

Lost and alone. Until you hear that silken voice caress your ear. “There you are…” You whip your head around, catching two glowing red eyes and shining fangs grinning at you from the closest bank of shadows. Astarion turns his head to face you fully, reclining against the wall even as you tremble visibly at the sight of him. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he purrs. That line, the one that first sank his claws deep into your heart even as he sank his cock hard between your folds for the first time— that line still makes your breath snag in your own throat.

And you love it.

Noiselessly, he crosses to you, standing in the window, bathed in the light of the stars. “What, my treasure? Not happy to see me?” His full lips turn in a saccharine pout, all a show, bait to lure you in. “I really expected a warmer welcome home than this.” His fangs glint as he draws to a stop, so close to you, the gems and beads of his velvet tunic brush against you. “Or have you grown so cold blooded since I made you mine… my consort?”

He growls his possession of you, and the blood in your veins does run cold. Chilled. Frozen even as you feel his breath whistle in the stray locks of your hair as he lowers his mouth to your neck. You turn your head on instinct, baring your neck and trembling even as his mouth descends towards your skin. Lips press, soft and attentive, trailing caresses up to the tender spot beneath your pointed ear.

“May I bite you?” He breathes the question down your neck. A lingering vestige of the sad, unsure rogue you met on the road, asking for your yes even though he thrums with power, the power to coerce your every word to assent.

That memory of his tragic eyes and wandering soul, the male that first crossed your path, it haunts you. The moment you feel his lips sneering, raising to bare his fangs ready to bite, you turn sharply. “Who said you could bite yet, my love?” you smirk in return. “Gone for weeks, and you expect such a willing, warm welcome.” You shake your head, the links and gems of your heavy, encrusted earrings jangling with the motion. “No, you tell me first I am more to you than the power you horde now that you are free, and then maybe, just maybe, you may have your fill.”

His crimson eyes narrow, displeasure darkening his expression and tinging his pale skin with ashen pools as he stares in return. “Well now, seems you have forgotten your place. Forgotten that all I do is for us, and our rule of Baldur’s Gate.” His voice is cold and exacting, his arms folding over his chest to square his chiseled shoulders.

It is the same, the same posture he once stood in so often before you. After battles, blood spattered and charming. A mirage. It is a memory, nothing more, as you see only the dark, hungry ascended being he has become.

“Our rule?” You spit, squaring your shoulders, wishing you had some weapon more than the fangs between your own lips. “Doing this… for us?” You place your hands on his chest, pressing into the decadent stitching and beading of his tunic. Hard muscles push and flex beneath your touch. “I know there is an us, you and me, bound together for all time. But, do not deceive yourself, Astarion, you crave the power for you. Not as gift for me…”

“Mmm, my pet, sharpened your claws in my absence, readying your own fangs for my neck now,” he gives a low, rapid laugh. “Simply riveting.” His head cocks back, moonlight spilling into those silver curls that fall with reckless abandon. Haphazard. Sexy. And he knows it, the way you can’t keep your eyes off of him. “Now, be a good girl,” he growls, “and welcome me home.”

You eye him for a moment, but that is all he allows for you. Resisting is futile against your maker. Even without the magic of your blood bond, he knows your heart is and always has been his. That is enough to compel you, knowing how you will cave at the first tangle of his tongue in your mouth, the first slip of his fingers into your wetness.

Faster than the lightning, he sweeps you into his arms and bolts down hall after hall, swifter than wind with his preternatural speed. His laugh tickles your ear as you cling to his shoulders, arms wrapped firmly around his neck, until he bursts through your bed chamber door.

You catch your breath with a gasp, a muffled cry ripping from your throat as he tosses you into the middle of those blood red sheets. Like you weigh nothing to him. His precious toy, his play thing. And by the gleam in his crimson eyes and the run of his tongue over his fang points, he is about to have his fill of playing with you.

Slowly, he creeps on to the bed, the mattress buckling under his hands, his knees, as he slinks closer to cover you with his body. Master of all your desires, he makes certain you feel his arousal pressing on your mound through the layers of your dress and his trousers. So hard for you, you wonder briefly why you pretend to resist. The thrill of the hunt, you suppose, letting him grind into you slowly. His knee catches under yours, insistent, pushing, spreading your legs wider as your skirt naturally rucks itself higher. A slight breeze makes you catch your breath, the chill swirling over your skin, passing the throbbing heat of your mound. And he thrusts that massive and contained cock harder, more demandingly, against you. The friction makes your mouth water, but it is nothing compared to what it is to have him inside.

“Now,” he closes in to cover you, arms bracing firmly to cage you at your shoulders. One hand lifts, fingers closing in around your throat. Not too hard, but enough to make you shiver and open your mouth for air. “I think there is something you wish to say, an invitation, an acceptance that dances on the tip of your tongue. Will you share it….” His eyes flicker to your opened mouth, slack as his fingers press just a bit harder on your windpipe, “… or will you have me pull it from your mouth with mine, my love?”

You struggle for words, your agreement and your dissent fight in equal measure. No words will suffice, and with a press of your own elbow into the bed beneath you, you force your head to lift. Your mouth claims his conceited smirking lips, even as his hold on your throat grows painful with your movement. Stars fill your eyes as you gasp into his mouth. That controlling hand instantly lifts its clutch from your windpipe, sweeping to the back of your head. Fingers tangling into the unraveled strands of your braid. His taste is more intoxicating than the wine tonight. You missed him, his taste, the way his tongue sweeps and explores your mouth. The way it dances over the points of your fangs. The commanding manner he teases your tongue between his lips to do the same. Weeks of deprivation from his passion, and you fall right back into it, letting his lust for you thrum in your veins and race like fire through your nerves. You gasp as he consumes your lips, the slightest thrust of his arousal against your body enough to nearly make you come already.

So attentive, his hands begin to loosen the laces on your bodice, deliberate but gentle as he exposes you inch by inch. What fabric does not fall away, he grabs between his two hands, tearing without even breaking from your kiss. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do that all night. To get you completely bared… naked and mine. My little… treat.”

…with your cheeks all flushed…

That is him, that… was him. Your rogue. Despite the power that now consumes him, the darkness that whispers around him, that creeps into his complexion, your tortured rogue is still within him. No matter how much he tries to deny it, to bury it beneath power and wealth and sex with you.

You want to, need to, coax him out from there.

“Perhaps,” you breathe, “perhaps you need to show me you have missed me before I welcome you in, welcome you home… warmly?”

He breaks from your lips, that arrogant brow raising as his lips twist in that smirk that makes your core even more molten. “I have missed you, every moment we were apart, my love. Your blood inside me would never be enough to satisfy, not until I am inside you, and only then once we have totally…” he places a kiss on the crest of your shoulder, “…completely…” another kiss in the crook of your neck, “… spent ourselves… will we even be close to… “satisfaction.”

You shiver, your whole body shaking as he doesn’t bite, but runs those pointed fangs across your skin. You tap into your own reserves of immortal strength, threading your fingers into those unruly silver curls to pry his mouth from your flesh. “Your words are sweet, my love, but I prefer action.” Your hand pulls his pale neck within your own reach, your tongue running along the edge of his pointed ear, licking and sucking loudly, ignoring the cold metal loops and piercings as you pleasure him. He sighs, his body losing some of that rigid edge, softening under your attentions. “Let me bite you first, my love. Gain my strength as your spawn, so long deprived of her master’s power. Show me that you will put your love for me first, above your… ambitions… and just maybe I’ll let you slip inside without begging.”

“If that is what it will take,” he replies in that deep, honeyed voice of his, “then by all means, bite away, pet.”

That softness in his voice, that supple way his frame clings to yours, you know that the rogue he once was still creeps behind his ambition, his love for you still surfacing through his lust for power. You swirl your tongue over the span of his neck, the taste of his skin is a familiar blend of sweat and spice, cold to the touch as he ever has been.

Your undead lover.

Your own fangs prick his skin, gently, enough to fill your mouth with his blood. Sweet and heady, more intoxicating than wine. A bouquet that satisfies and overwhelms you in one swallow. Instantly, you feel the swirl of his power coursing through you, your limbs cramping as ascendant magic takes over. One more swallow, and you release your mouth, careful not to take too much from Astarion, let you spark his ire. His brows cant as he looks at you again, and you must look… different. More powerful? More lustful? But you can see as he gazes down at you, the trickle of his own blood running down his pale neck, that he is… impressed. Desire ignites somehow more brightly behind those crimson eyes.

You drink in his easy smirk, the soft caress of his fingers over your cheek, his thumb softly wiping away his blood from the corner of your mouth. Then he raises that thumb, his pink tongue licking his own blood from its stained pad. You feel his arousal beat as it throbs between your legs still. So pleased... but pleased with himself. His body instantly shifting to pin you back under him, bending you to his will again.

“Tch,” you make the sound that he so often makes at you, that condescending suck of your teeth. “So close my love, but I’m not through with testing your love.”

“Careful,” he hisses as his eyes narrow with danger and warning, “I bite… too.” He flashes those perfect teeth down at you. “Do not try me too hard, love,” his voice that silken growl.

“But I will try you just enough,” you dare to reply, your words earning that intrigued and sultry smirk from him. Closing your eyes, you picture the doors just beside you, garden doors that lead into the dirt and the trees of your private courtyard. His power courses in you, filling your belly and flooding your frame with your own heightened abilities. You push him off you, making him stagger to his feet on the floor. Your hands find his chest, racing with your own vampiric speed until you force him through those garden doors and into the moonlight. Your feet slip on the dirt, your dress falling off your body in the tatters he made. You stand naked, your strength making him buckle before you, making him lower his body to lie beneath you as you straddle your legs around his waist in the dust and grass and dirt.

He releases a low, feral growl, but he does not resist, letting you now press your body, bared completely to his eyes, to cover his. “Now,” his voice barely audible through the salivating hunger in his throat, “have I earned your assent at last, my pet?”

“Not until you fuck me in the dirt like the rogue you were,” you pant, fighting the urge to bring his long and cold fingers to pierce the molten slick between your thighs. You raise yourself from his chest, gripping your thighs around his waist and letting your slick soak his elegant and refined clothes. You feel him squirm beneath you, bucking his hips ever so slightly, dragging the sensation of his wet velvet breeches through your folds.

He sneers slightly, anger fluttering in that deep crimson gaze, as if you can see the memories of what he was clawing to the surface. His voice is like ice, slippery and cold. “The rogue I was is gone, my pet, but, if you wish me to be roguish, then roguish I shall be…” He barely gives you a warning, a flash of brightness in his eyes before he flips you on your back, your body slamming loudly against the dirt, knocking the wind from your lungs. His long, elegant fingers make quick work of the buttons down his chest. The bright fabric of his tunic flutters as he tosses it, not giving a shit where it lands as long as his skin finally brushes against your round, full, and swaying breasts.

He pauses a moment, kneeling over you, caging you between his cold and hard thighs. He licks his lips at you, the offering for his consumption, splayed in the dirt. Memories flicker over his eyes, a soft smile of recognition, of being here before, with you. Naked in the dirt. Your luxurious clothing crumpled, your sumptuous bed too far. If you close your eyes, you and he are as you first met, lust and love pulsing in the air, your backs covered in the grime of dust and sweat. Your hands press against those thighs that pin you, the black velvet crushed and soft as you run them higher. He smirks, approving your every little inching progress towards that straining erection. The leather ties of his band snap as you tear at them, the more they loosen, the more you can see the pale and glistening head of his cock.

He grinds his hips under your touch, the black cloth, sticky with your slick peeling away to reveal the thing you have craved for these weeks. Long and pale, engorged with his need for you, so hard every vein down its shaft is visible, his cock twitches every time you brush it as you free it.

“Mmm,” he groans to finally bare himself to you. “Just say the word, darling, and you’ll see more stars than are in the sky.” He croons, he preens, running a hand through his own hair as you take his cock in your hand. You stroke his immense length, the rises of each vein along it as familiar to you as if it were your own body.

Darling, he calls you. You run your thumb over his weeping head, spreading the pearl of cum along the ridge of his cock. Your first pet name. Not treasure, not consort, not treat…

“Call me darling again, and I’ll let you slip inside, my love,” you purr, bracing your other hand into the opening of his breeches to softly cup his balls as well.

His brow raises as he shifts himself, his hands lifting your legs one at a time until he crouches between your thighs. “Well then, I best make certain you are ready to welcome me inside…” he breaths, aiming his haughty mouth for your quaking belly before he places a kiss just above your navel, “…darling.”

His lips trail kisses lower, covering your hips, your belly, as if, for all the ascendant power flowing in veins, he can’t help but to adore your body. You moan your approval, slipping your fingers into those tantalizing silver curls, savoring every sway and lift of his head as he nestles himself lower over your mound. His breath is hot, chilling you more than the cold press of his hands as he spreads your folds open. Then, Astarion lifts his head one last time, flashing a taunting pout from between your thighs. “Please, darling,” he raises a brow, expectantly. “Just a little bite…” his fingers trace your innermost thigh, his head turning to lick you, his tongue lapping you in a single broad stroke. “You know how sweet you taste,” he purrs as he presses his nose, nuzzling that supple flesh of your inner thigh.

“Be my rogue, not my master,” you grip his hair tighter, staying him from lowering to feast on you. “Call me your darling, not your consort…” you pant, watching him lick his fang slowly, “and I’ll welcome you home to feed on me wherever you desire.”

“Darling,” he croons, slipping his long, dexterous fingers deep in your walls. “I’ll be your everything, since you are… mine.” Fingers crook inside you as he speaks, his voice low and wicked and dripping with sex, his touch catching your inner spot that makes you moan. The perfect sound of submission to his claim. To his possession of you. And you of him. “Are we… agreed?” His voice rasps against your thigh once more, mouth drooling as it hovers at the ready.

“Yes,” you breathe, you moan at last. The next instant you feel his bite, slicing into your thigh, your body trembling too much from his hooking fingers that thrust in and out of you to even notice the pain.

You feel the tug of his lips, the strong suck of his mouth around his bite marks as he drinks you. His tongue laps at your leg, his fingers ever attentive inside you as he drives you mad, salivating with every stroke and tug and thrust of his touch, every catch of your clit with his thumb.

You buck your hips, trying to catch even more friction as he pleasures you, but instantly he pulls away, taking that soaked hand from inside you to press your belly back down hard. The emptiness makes you cry his name, the strength of his hand on your hips adding a moan to it.

“Don’t move, pet,” he rasps, licking his lips to clean them of your blood. “Don’t be a bad girl, not now…”

You tremble, as he lowers his mouth again, careful to freeze, holding your breath until those mesmerizing fingers return to the demanding rhythm inside you again. You hold still, controlling even your breathing, even your eyes fluttering as you feel sucking once more. Filled with your blood for now, he runs his tongue from your thigh, tracing the distance down your leg until it slips between your folds as well.

Masterful, no tongue can sweep with more precision, more force, than his as he laps your clit. It takes but another swirl over your seam, his fangs catching slightly on your folds, to send you into the oblivion of orgasm.

Your fingers clutch at his hair wildly, clawing so hard you could draw blood if he let you. You pant, unable to say anything other than the muffled syllables of his name. And he just laughs, low and throaty as he watches you writhe in the dirt. You finally open your eyes, meeting his approving smirk, that cocky eyebrow raised in pure dark delight. “I told you not to move,” his grin widens wickedly, “so disappointing, darling.”

“But,” you grimace, groaning, but he just places a single finger over your lips, ordering your silence.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth, teeth that still drip with your blood, “you will move when I say you can.”

“Is this how you wish to be welcomed home? You have always been fond of such games.” You smirk, watching him slip his breeches completely free from his long, pale legs.

“Mmm,” he assents, “but it will be my turn first, my pet, until you’ve earned yours.”

“Astarion,” you reply, but his finger only returns to press harder against your mouth.

“Shhh, you can speak, too, when I tell you to, darling,” that finger pushes into your mouth, wiggling over your tongue. “Now, suck, my love.”

Suck you do, cleaning his fingers of your tangy slick. He groans as you lick him clean, every swirl of your tongue driving him wild, his other hand flying to his cock as he grips that twitching, engorged length. Rubbing himself, he thrusts his hips in time with your tongue. As his breathing grows sharper, heavier, you know he’s not going to last much longer. And you bite one fang into the thick pad of his finger.

His blood caresses your tongue again, the power within him stronger, headier, as you can almost taste his arousal. He rips his finger from your mouth with a snarl. “I said suck, not bite or bleed me dry, my love.” His hands are at your knees, raising them until your ass lifts from the ground, his hand slapping firmly on your cheek. You cry aloud at the resounding spank. But he only laughs again. “Bad girl, crying when I did not say…” His hand slaps again, just the same as before, deliberate but not painful. A pleasurable punishment. And you swallow your cry this time, careful not to so much as grunt. He smiles his approval back down at you. His eyes whisper, good girl, as he sets your legs back down, positioning them just so.

Your lips purse, fluttering as you bite them to hold back your words, treading along the rules of this game as best you can. For now.

“I can see you wish to speak,” he arches one brow, “you may, until I finally sneak my little way in to start fucking you…”

He moves quickly, crawling over your body, and all you can do is pant his name, pleading with him in incoherent syllables. “A-astar-ion, p-please…”

Too late. He sheathes himself to the root in one thrust. “Ah ah,” he chides to cover you, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders. “Now, busy your pretty, little mouth by kissing mine, and just let me fuck you, understood?”

You tremble under those eyes, your walls stretching as he already presses against the end of your channel.

“You may… nod, my love,” he taunts, a wicked tone of delight in that honeyed throat of his. You obey. “You may also touch me, your hands on my back, but nothing too rough, darling. This is about us, and our pleasure. Now… play nice, dear.” His words rush on his breath between your lips, and then he consumes you, tastes you, the mix of his blood and your slick still both on your tongue. You feel him licking it from you, making him thrust that cool, long cock all the deeper. A growl of satisfaction vibrates from his throat as he savors your mix of flavors. All his favorite things. Achingly slowly, he moves inside, dragging his length so you feel the ridge of his head, the threads of its veins, tug against your walls. Working in and out, you feel his hands behind your neck and shoulders, angling your mouth to just the perfect place for him to plunder it.

Then, his knees do the same, first one urges your left knee, taking you apart even as he keeps his slow and languorous thrusts. The other moves into place to do the same. His long legs press yours, opening you, spreading you, until he can go no deeper. His laugh, low and rumbling, tickles inside your mouth. Then, he fucks. Hard and demanding, swivels of his hips make certain he grazes his cock over that sweet, secret spot inside you. You lose yourself, the rhythm of his thrusts filling you with instant, incessant waves of pleasure.

You missed this. The games, the power plays, the wit and banter, biting with words and fangs. Now, he delves into you with abandon, no more games, no more dominance. In this moment, as he steals your breath and fucks you into the dirt, he is your rogue.

Your hands press into his ass, feeling the ripples of his muscles as he moves within you. The intoxicating beat of clench after clench, his voice growling his pleasure at your attentions. “That’s it, darling, feel how badly I’ve wanted this, wanted you… my darling… my consort…” Your hands run over the scars of his back, tracing over the shadows of his past. “That’s it,” he breathes, “I’ll allow you to…”

You smile, cutting off his words, claiming your chance to take the upper hand in the game. Knees raise to press into the hard surface of his stomach, rolling him quickly over on his back at last. “My turn,” you give a laugh, low and throaty like his. “You’ve allowed it, my love.”

“I wasn’t finished,” he snarls quietly, but you wriggle your hips, his cock still firmly sunk inside you, as you press a finger against his lips.

“Shh…” you cajole him, running your finger to trace those fleshy, arrogant, smirking lips. “You’ve had your fun, now it’s my turn, and I will not be called consort…”

“You prefer spawn…?” He taunts his hands running up your thighs, clawing into your hips. Still so reverent in his touch, even as his words throw barbs to get a rise from you.

You take the bait, splaying a hand on his chest, so hard, so pale, pushing him down as your cant your hips over his length. “Not merely consort… queen.”

“Hmmmm yes,” he purrs, flashing a smirk so twisted the starlight shines on his teeth brilliantly. “Oh… I do like the sound of that.”

Slowly you ride him, back and forth, bucking to keep his cock rolling inside you, his hands gripping at your hips. He steadies you, pushes you, thrusts up into you as your hips sink back to almost slap against his thighs. “Say it,” you pant.

“My darling…” he rasps, his breath grating in his throat as he groans with each slam of your cunt over his length.

“Not just that,” you crash back against him with a punishing force. “Not only that anymore…”

“My darling… queen,” he moans, gravel darkening his words, even as his eyes glow up at you, crimson and wonderous.

He is both things all at once, your rogue and your master, your lover in the dirt and on his throne. And as you begin to feel the final throes of your climax, hearing him grunting with each thrust, you lean down, baring your neck for his fangs one more time. He needs no further invitation or consent, the slice of his teeth into your skin pushes you over that final edge. You spasm, trembling, locked onto his lap as he thrusts up into you, mouth at your neck, cock buried deep. He hitches beneath you, face pressing against your neck as he grins in pleasure so intense, it hurts. You feel him pulsing inside you, seed spewing deep inside you adding to the slick between your thighs. You struggle to breathe, collapsed on his chest as you are now. His mouth still takes lazy sucks of your blood, even between his own gasps to catch his breath.

“That’s what I love about you,” he speaks softly, lips brushing your pointed ear. “My good girl, so eager to take the future by the balls, without losing what was the best of me before…”

“Mmm,” you breathe as you turn your head, nestling your forehead against the sharp edge of his jaw. “You can claim the world, but from time to time, you will need to fuck me in the dirt. Keep yourself… grounded.”

“Ha!” he giggles, bursting in hilarious ripples from his mouth as his arms wrap to cradle you tightly. “You sweet thing,” he purrs in silken tones again, “puns are still not beneath you, even as my... conso— as my queen. “Now ready yourself and brush off the dirt, round two in the lap of luxury I think.”

He lifts you effortlessly, pulling you by your hands back towards the palace doors, but now there is a lightness to his step, the grit of dust clinging to both your backs. You follow him in, even as he laughs and tugs you after him. Your rogue, your lord, your lover.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

End Chapter 1 of many… see my Masterlist for more

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