#stream alice glass

[romanticwrld]

[m0urnlnglamb]

12.28.24 moodboard

[sacredtrial]

[mag1cspells]

[fountainofthetruth2006]

[gasolinepure]

Alice Glass by Kristen Jan Wong

[witchrealms]

(x)

[petrolstationprincess]

all my girls HATE ethan kath

[doombodega]

Listen illegally

[delulujuls]

snow scales | cregan stark

hi, here comes the big boy aka the wolf of the north. i know that cregan got like three minutes total on a screen but man, the amount of babies that i would give him

anyway, for sure i want to write probably two more parts of this so watch out!

summary: westeros is at the gates of war and to gain allies, king's landing sends one of its dragons to winterfell to marry the northern wolf and increase the chances of winning the war.

warnings: none (?) i believe

pairing: fem!targtower reader x cregan stark

Westeros stood on the brink of war and no one could prevent it.

Rhaenyra, occupying Dragonstone, was gathering armies and allies around her. Aegon was doing the same, though he was merely a pawn in the hands of those wiser than himself. Nevertheless, the Targaryen family was split in two: one side wore black, the other green. However, it seemed that the Dragon Family had not just split in two but shattered like a broken glass.

One of the dining halls in the Red Keep hosted a silent dinner. Since the king's death, meals had passed in silence. At the head of the table, where Viserys once sat, now sat Aegon. Next to him was his mother, then the Hand of the King. On the new king���s left sat Aemond, followed by their two younger sisters. No one exchanged even a glance.

After dinner, everyone left the table and went their separate ways, but Alicent stopped her older daughter, asking her to have a word. The girl nodded and they went to the mother's chambers.

"Has something happened?" the young princess asked once they were alone. The woman quickly reached for a jug of wine and filled her goblet, taking several large sips. The alcohol, however, did not ease the knot in her throat. Alicent clutched the goblet in her hand and sat down, looking at her daughter. She stared at her for a few moments in silence, as if trying to memorize as many details of her as possible. If she could, she would have imprinted her image on her mind.

"Mother—" "You will go north," Alicent interrupted her, declaring it like a crossbow bolt. She knew this revelation would not be easy for her. Accepting the news would be equally difficult for her daughter.

"What?" the girl frowned. "Me? To the North?"

The woman nodded and sighed, wanting to gather some courage and convince herself that what she was doing was right.

"You know well that war is coming, and even if we wanted to, it is inevitable," she returned her gaze to her daughter’s face, who was looking at her with a slight frown between her brows. "We need allies, and the most are in the North. We must forge an alliance with them."

"Why are you entrusting me with such task?" she asked, shaking her head. "I understand you won't send Aegon, but Aemond? Ser Criston?"

Alicent tightened her grip on the goblet, and if it had been made of a weaker material, it would have shattered in her hand by now.

"Only you can bring the North closer to us."

The young princess frowned even more and shook her head. She didn’t understand any of this.

"Am I to go there alone?" she looked back at her mother, who only nodded. "How long am I to be there?"

"You will marry Cregan Stark," she announced, placing the goblet on her lap. "There is no stronger alliance than marriage. Rhaenyra can do nothing about it."

The girl scoffed in disbelief and took a few steps back.

"This is absurd, utter madness," she believed her mother was joking, but the woman's face still had the same expression. "But you promised me to Aegon!"

"Aegon broke off the engagement," she said, looking at her daughter's face. "He knows it is necessary."

The young princess laughed bitterly, and tears, hot as molten steel, streamed down her cheeks.

"The North will not stand with a usurper, you know that very well!"

"Lord Stark is extremely pleased with the prospect of marrying a Targaryen and eagerly awaits you," she said almost mechanically. She had been repeating this sentence nonstop for days, as if trying to convince herself that what is she doing was right. However, she couldn’t bear to look at her daughter's tear-streaked, bitter face.

"You're a monster," she sobbed, turning and grabbing the door handle.

"We all must sacrifice for the greater good," she said, but her daughter no longer heard her.

The shaken princess hurriedly left the castle, heading to the Dragonpit. She sobbed bitterly, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she heard Vermithor, she quickened her pace, running. When she saw the dragon, her heart momentarily lifted. It broke, however, when she saw the massive collar around the beast’s neck and the heavy chain that bound it. She cried out, reaching out and touching the dragon’s snout.

"What have they done to you?"

The bronze giant looked weakened, likely given a massive dose of something to sedate him during the collaring. The young princess couldn’t believe what her own family was capable of.

"There, it's alright," she ran her hands over his snout, though she herself was shattered into pieces. Sadness, grief, and despair mixed with fury. She walked around the dragon and stood before the collar clasp, grabbing the chain and pulling with all her strength. But even with that, it didn’t budge.

The girl screamed in anger, her scream not sounding like that of a teenager. It sounded like the roar of an enraged dragon, yet even the beast’s roar couldn’t break the brass chains.

"I’m so sorry," the girl sobbed, helplessly kneeling by the beast’s snout and hugging it with all her might. "I’m sorry."

The young princess did not return to the castle. She spent the night in the Dragonpit, nestled against the side of her dragon. She cried until sleep overcame her. Vermithor covered her with his wing.

The next morning, when the Dragonkeepers were ordered to bring the princess, the dragon roared fiercely, not allowing them to approach. The girl woke immediately.

"Princess," one of the men spoke, standing at a distance the dragon permitted. "The queen summons you to the castle."

"She is not the queen," the princess muttered, sniffing. She stood and wiped her face with her hands. She felt tears welling up under her eyelids again. Vermithor sensed her emotions and abandoned his aggressive stance, laying his snout flat on the ground. The girl smiled sadly and hugged the dragon one last time.

"Geros ilas, uēpa raqiros," she said, raising her head and looking at the bronze giant. She tenderly stroked his scales. Bitter tears once again wetted her cheeks, but she wiped them away with a clenched fist. "Nyke jāhor māzigon arlī skori issa jēda māzigon, se hēnkirī īlon jāhor zālagon ry lī qilōni gōntan bisa naejot īlva." (Farewell, old friend. I will return when my time comes, and together we will burn all those who did this to us.)

She walked away, not looking back. She heard the dragon's roar and cry, the clanking of chains, and the flapping of wings. But she left the Dragonpit alone.

At the castle gates, two carriages and about four dozen knights waited, all on horses and in shining armor. Alicent waited by one carriage, accompanied by the Hand of the King. Ser Criston also looked like he was being sent on a journey, probably to make sure than the princess will not run away. However, neither Aegon, Aemond, nor Helaena were among the crowd. The girl felt like spitting in her mother’s and the Hand’s faces. She could only guess that her siblings knew nothing about this. No one could convince her that Aegon had agreed to break the engagement. He might be foolish and reckless, but he loved his sister sincerely. And Helaena? She would never have let her go.

Alicent wanted to say something, reached out to her daughter, but the girl didn’t even look at her. She got into the carriage and slammed the door. She would return and burn them all.

For several days, until the first stop, the young princess didn’t say a word to anyone. She didn’t eat or drink much, which did not go unnoticed by several of her maids who had been sent with her. Fearing the princess planned to starve herself to death, they tried to persuade her to eat at least small amounts. Sometimes they succeeded, sometimes not.

As a result, the girl lost a lot of weight during the journey. Her dresses became too large, her eyes sunken, and her hair, once like glowing gold, now resembled spider silk. The princess stopped spending the journey in tears only when the entourage passed Harrenhal. She remained silent, and the feasts thrown by the lords to host her were always the first she left, apologizing and explaining a headache. No one blamed her.

As the entourage moved further, the days grew shorter and the nights colder. Winterfell was near, but the approaching winter was even nearer.

The Targaryen princess reached the northern capital after over two moons.

At the maid's suggestion, the girl donned a thick fur coat, and as soon as she stepped outside her carriage, she was greeted by piercing cold. She had seen snow on the journey, but there was much more of it here, and it still fell from the sky. Lead-colored clouds hung low, and snowflakes swirled in the wind, falling onto the icy ground. They also fell on her snow-like hair, which the frosty wind blew, kissing her cheeks in greeting.

Cregan Stark, the young lord of Winterfell and her future husband, also came to greet her.

The young man was the textbook definition of a Northerner. He was only a little older than her, but his sharp features made him appear more mature than he actually was. The Wolf of the North was over a head taller than her, with broad shoulders and a well-built physique, now covered under a thick fur. The wind tousled his shoulder-length brown hair, and his toughened skin was impervious to the cold. Not like the girl’s cheeks, now rosy as petals of a fresh bloomed flower.

"Princess," he spoke, his voice deep and marked by an accent. "I welcome you to Winterfell."

"My Lord," she forced a smile, though she knew it must have looked more like a grimace. The Dragon Princess was aware that she would have to endure many more forced smiles and artificial courtesies.

The Wolf of the North, however, did not require any courtesy from her. He knew why the girl had been sent to him and what was expected of her; he had even heard rumors of a broken engagement. He decided not to pressure her and let her get used to the new place, to the North. After all, a Dragon had ended up among a pack of Wolves.

The wedding did not wait for the girl to get accustomed to Winterfell; it took place just a few days after her arrival at the Stark stronghold. The Dragon Princess had exchanged only a few formal sentences with the Lord of the North before she had to call him husband. The Godswood, where the wedding was held, had seen many a forced marriage. The girl had even come to terms with the bedding, but the Young Wolf announced that it would not take place.

"Perhaps one day a spark of affection will ignite within you, and you will come to my arms of your own accord," he said when he saw the questioning look on her face.

The night after the wedding, the marriage was spent apart. Every subsequent night was as well.

Days passed, and the young princess gradually came to terms with her new reality. She knew this was her life now, that she was the wife of the Wolf of the North and the Lady of Winterfell. The choice she had been forced into might not have pleased her, but it did not mean it was a bad one.

After some time, the girl began to spend more time outside her chambers. She abandoned reading and took up sewing, helping the servants mend linens and clothes. She insisted on mending her husband's clothes herself, asking that no one else do it for her. Although it was not her duty, every morning and evening she fed the animals. The young princess missed her dragon dearly, but she found joy in spending time with horses, feeding chickens, or petting rabbits.

One of the servants once ran terrified to inform Cregan that the princess was endangering herself with the direwolves. The Lord, worried, quickly went with her to the scene, only to find there was no reason for concern. The girl sat motionless on the ground, allowing the animals to sniff her. Two wolves wagged their tails, and one even lay down beside her. Cregan's heart swelled at the sight, not because of her interaction with the animals but because, for the first time, he saw a smile on her face. He could have sworn it was genuine.

The marriage, however, still did not see them spending much time together, nor talking much. This did not mean the Young Wolf was not interested in his wife; quite the opposite. Both morning and evening, he would ask the servants how the girl was doing. After some time, the young princess began to do the same.

"What is he like?" she asked one day, while she and two Winterfell servants were mending clothes. Though she did not ask directly, the women knew she meant Lord Stark. They exchanged glances and only smiled. Did her question mean that the Dragon Princess was beginning to warm to the Wolf Lord?

"He has a very big heart, my lady," one admitted. "At first glance, he may seem intimidating, but he is a gentle giant. Lord Stark is very kind."

The girl lowered her gaze, focusing on her work. She smiled slightly.

"I think he is a good man too," she admitted.

"That does not mean he can be trifled with," added the other. "He is kind when someone gives him the same. But he is a wolf, my lady. He can bite if provoked."

Indeed, Cregan appeared to be a man of steel nerves who could turn that steel into a sword, with which he could take a life without a second thought.

When the princess had finished her duties, she dressed and went outside to spend some time in the stables. In the courtyard, a few men were preparing for a journey, saddling horses. Among them was her husband.

"My lady," he smiled at the sight of her. Each of the men bowed slightly.

"Are you going somewhere, my lord?" she asked, stroking his horse’s muzzle.

"Hunting," he announced, fastening a crossbow to the saddle. "I will return before nightfall."

"Could I accompany you?" she asked without much thought. The young man's lips twitched upward. The unexpected proposal pleased him.

"You would do me a great honor, my lady."

And so the Wolf and the Dragon set off together, side by side. They rode at the front, accompanied by four men. No one questioned the princess's participation.

When they reached the depths of the forest, they tied the horses to a tree and continued on foot. At a certain point, they all split up, but the Wolf and the Dragon stayed together. They were silent, but it was not an awkward silence. Their mutual company was enough.

"Look," he leaned toward her, whispering. "There, between the trees. Beyond the fallen trunk."

The girl quickly found the point he indicated and smiled at the sight of a deer. The stag was large, and its antlers were even larger. It calmly stripped moss from the fallen tree.

Cregan silently removed the crossbow from his shoulder. The girl felt a pang in her heart. Of course, she thought. They hadn’t come for a stroll.

The Young Wolf noticed her troubled expression. He knew what saddened her.

"I never let them suffer longer than necessary," he assured. The girl quickly nodded, causing a tear to roll down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with her hand.

Cregan drew the arrow and raised the crossbow, aiming at the deer. A moment of silence, a whoosh of air, and a dull thud. The stag fell to the ground. The young man glanced at his wife's face one last time and moved ahead. When they reached the deer, it was already dead. Blood flowed from its mouth, and the once-living body was now motionless. Cregan approached to retrieve the arrow, but the girl beat him to it. She knelt by the dead animal and gently ran her hand along its neck, stroking it soft, golden fur. For a moment, she gazed at the deer, absorbing its beauty. Tears welled up in her eyes again, so she quickly grabbed the arrow, pulled it out, and stood up, handing it to her husband. Cregan took it in silence.

Although neither of them spoke for the rest of the hunt, an understanding formed between them, a sort of alliance. The culture and customs of the North were so wild and distant for someone from the South. The young princess, however, knew that Winterfell was her home now. And if it was her home, she had to learn its customs. Even if they were far from her own beliefs.

That evening, despite the darkness, the Wolf Lord could have sworn that the scales of the Southern Dragon glistened with a snowy sheen.

A few days after the first closer interaction between the young marriage, Cregan decided he would like to spend some time with the girl again. He knocked on her chamber door, and when she let him in, he entered. The girl was sitting by the fireplace, stuffing pillows with feathers, but she smiled at the sight of her husband.

"My lady," he nodded to her, lightly returning her smile.

"My lord," she replied, reaching for a needle and beginning to sew the pillow. "Something brings you here?" she asked after a moment when he silently observed her deftly working fingers.

"I would like to introduce someone to you," he replied, causing the girl to frown slightly in surprise.

"Do we have guests?"

The young man nodded and reached for her fur. Seeing his gesture encouraging her to stop working, she set her task aside and stood up. She walked over to him and turned, allowing him to help her dress. Shortly afterward, they went outside.

"Who are these guests? Did we know they were coming?" she asked, glancing at her husband.

"We expected them, but we didn't know when they would arrive," he explained.

They passed the courtyard, which was empty. There was no sign that Winterfell had visitors. The girl remained silent until they entered one of the sheds. This particular one housed the direwolves. She was about to ask what this was all about when she heard squeaks and whimpers. As she connected the dots, the frown disappeared from her brow, and her violet eyes lit up.

"No way, it can't be."

Cregan smiled and gestured for her to come closer. Around the corner, on a bed of straw, lay a she-wolf. Four pups were latched onto her teats, and one of them, with nearly golden fur, was sleeping a bit further away.

The young princess was genuinely moved by the sight. Cregan smiled as well, not just because of the litter but because of his wife's joy.

"They were born this morning," he announced. "Four females and a male."

The male turned out to be the pup lying away from the pack. He was bigger than the rest and had a bronze coat, a color familiar to the girl. When the little wolf woke up and stretched, Cregan approached and petted the she-wolf's head, silently praising her for a job well done. He picked up the pup that was away from the mother and held him in his arms, then handed him to the girl. The young princess cradled him, stroking him gently.

"So you've returned to me as a direwolf," she said softly, more to herself than to her husband.

Cregan looked at his wife questioningly. The young princess felt his gaze on her.

"My dragon has a very similar color," she explained, scratching the wolf pup behind the ear. "They call him the Bronze Fury, all because of the color of his scales."

"In the skies, is he truly a fury?" he asked, watching her interaction with the pup.

The girl laughed softly and shook her head. "Maybe once, when my great-grandfather rode him. Now he's an old beast. Sometimes I felt he preferred a nap over a ride with me."

Cregan smiled at her words. He noticed that she found joy in animals, especially direwolves and dragons. While he couldn't provide the latter, he was glad he could bring her happiness with the pups.

"He's yours now," he declared when she kissed the pup between the ears. "The Targaryens have dragons, the Starks have direwolves. It's time for you to have your own."

The girl looked again at the pup she was holding and smiled even more. Her heart swelled with emotion.

"Thank you," she said, looking at her husband. Cregan returned her smile.

"What will you name him?"

"Vermithor," she said without hesitation. "I feel he's a dragon in a direwolf's body."

To the servants' concern, they spent several hours in the shed, out of sight of everyone. They sat on the straw among the pups, talking about dragons, direwolves, flights in the clouds, and hunts in the forests. For the first time since they met and got married, they had the chance to learn something about each other.

"I've never seen a dragon," Cregan admitted. His sword lay by his straightened legs, and he leaned his back against the rough wall.

"I wish you to never have to," the girl replied. Her legs were crossed, and in them, like in a nest, slept little Vermithor. "Dragons never bode well."

"But still, they obey you," he looked at her. "How do you manage that?"

"You can't control them completely; they are still wild beasts," she noted. "But the Targaryens have managed to do so to some extent for thousands of years, back when the home of dragons was Valyria."

"Dragons respond only to the old language, right?" The young princess nodded in confirmation. "Just as I've never seen a dragon, I've never encountered that language."

"Zyr sindighy iderēbion, kes as qogralbar," she said, and the Young Wolf smiled. "Se valzi rijinyso sizi vys̄oron" (It is a very rough language, in my opinion. And also not the easiest to learn)

"If I were a dragon and heard something like that, I wouldn't hesitate to follow orders," he replied, making her laugh. Cregan also smiled sincerely. He never thought he'd hear the language of Old Valyria, but even more, he didn't expect to hear such sincere laughter of the Dragon Princess.

Winter began to settle more and more into Winterfell, but the biting cold was defied by the spark of affection that blossomed between the Wolf and the Dragon.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

The Only Place I Want to Die

aegon x sister!wife!reader 

Summary: Aegon turns to you for comfort in the following weeks of his coronation. Pleasure and tears seem to be the only way you both can find solace during these troubling times. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, alicent hitting her child, wine, depression, thoughts of wanting to die, crying, face riding, p in v, fingering, overstimulation

Authors Note: i fear i have too many feelings so this tragically pretty and broken man 🙂, the targtower children have actually been ripping my heart apart!!, u can’t convince me this man doesn’t whimper

Word Count: 3.5k 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I woke during the hour of the wolf to a cold bed and the fire flickering out. I sigh and push the blankets off of me and go to try and revive the embers. The fire slowly comes back to life with a crackle and I kneel on the stone to hover my hands near the flame. After countless minutes I rise and take in the state of our chambers. 

Empty wine glasses litter almost every surface and what’s left is covered by our clothes. I reach for the robe closest to me and wrap it around my body. I settle for mismatched slippers at this hour and pad over to the doors. I slowly crack it open and see our guard ever faithfully standing at attention. 

“Where is Aegon?” I ask softly and the guard turns to me. 

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. The King didn’t say.” the guards eyes look at me nervously and try to focus his attention anywhere else. 

“Then I’ll find him myself.” I push the door the rest of the way open and click it shut behind me. 

“My Queen-“ I raise my hand and wave him off as I start down the dark hallway. 

I can’t stand when they use our new titles. I don’t feel like the Queen and I know Aegon shares my sentiments. The past fortnight after his coronation has been chaos and our mother offers us no comfort or guidance. They simply placed crowns on our head and continue to move us about as they please. 

I walk down the stairs and head to the cellar to see if he’s drowning himself in his cups again. I enter the cold and damp room and there’s no candles or torches lit as I slink between the aisles of bottles. I hear and see no sign of Aegon, but I do spot our favorite wine. I grab the bottle by its neck and start up the stairs once more. 

I walk to the main hall and take in the guards standing sentry at the doors. No one looks twice at me as I ghost through the hall with my robe swishing behind me. I stop when I see the throne room doors cracked open. I peak inside and sigh in relief that I’ve finally found him. 

I push the doors open to let me in and then seal us inside. As I walk up to him he is standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up at the throne gripping the crown in his hand. As I make it to his side I see the tears streaming down his face. I place the bottle of wine on the ground and stand in front of him. His puffy eyes look down to me as he sniffles. 

“Why do you cry, my love?” I whisper wiping his tears away. 

“I never wanted this.” his voice breaks along with my heart as the conquerors crown falls to the stone beside us. 

“I know,” my voice a whisper as I pull him down into a tight embrace. 

His arms wrap around me tightly as he lets out soft sobs into my neck. I rub his back soothingly hoping I can calm his breathing. His tears seep onto my neck as they continue to fall from his eyes. He pulls back and his normally bright violet eyes seem sunken and dull. 

“I wish Rhaenyra would come and kill me already.” he hiccups as his sobs start anew. 

Tears fall from my own eyes at his words. I knew his hurt was deep, but I didn’t know it went this far. We stand there for what feels like hours in each other’s embrace while taking turns wiping each other’s tears away. Through the windows I can see the dawn on the horizon and slowly pull back. 

“Come, I’ve found us our favorite wine.” I dip down to pick up the bottle. 

His hand slips into mine leading me out of the throne room, leaving the crown on the stone floor. The main hall of the castle seems to be slowly waking up as we walk out the main doors ignoring the guards calling after us. We make our way to the back of the castle to sit in the grass as we watch the sunrise over the bay with our wine. 

“Do you think she hates me?” Aegon murmurs while opening the bottle. 

“Who?” I tilt my head. 

“Rhaenrya. Mother. All of them. Everyone.” he sighs before taking a long drink of wine. 

“Rhaenyra probably hates mother more than we do.” I take the bottle and bring it to my lips. 

“Why would mother force this upon us? Father only ever talked about Rhaenyra. He never cared for us. He never wanted me to succeed him.” he buries his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know why we were placed on this path.” I rest my head on his shoulder as I pass the bottle back to him. 

The sun slowly rises into the sky and our empty bottle is discarded on the grass next to us. We lay back and look at the clouds simply enjoying the silence and company of each other. Our eyes slowly close as we curl into each other and allow sleep to take over as we soak in the morning sun. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

“Get up. Both of you.” I crack my eyes open and see Alicent and Cole standing above us. I pull Aegon to his feet beside me and we try to avoid our mother’s harsh gaze. 

“It seems as if we found the wine thief.” Cole says grabbing the empty bottle discarded on the grass. 

“Why must you both cause me so much trouble. Leaving your crown on the ground like it’s some toy. Sneaking into the cellars to steal wine. Gods I can’t take it anymore.” she seethes, throwing her hands into the air as she turns to Cole. 

“I didn’t ask for any of this.” Aegons words wobbly as his hand holds mine. 

“I assumed you both would rise to your new titles. Hoping you would sober up and become respectable. You both never cease to prove me wrong and embarrass me at every turn.” she looks us over with disgust as her words continue to slice into us. 

“You should’ve seized the crown for yourself if you wanted it so badly.” the words make it out of my mouth before I can even process them and she slaps me across the face. 

“Strike her again and I will have your hand. I may not want the crown but it will allow me to protect her.” Aegon looks to me before looking back to our mother who stands there shocked at his words. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” she scoffs shaking her head at us. 

“Ser Criston, escort the Queen Dowager back to her chambers. I fear she’s having a fit of hysteria.” Aegon stands taller and his words baffle me. 

“Aegon,” Alicent looks to him unamused.

“At once, Your Grace.” Cole nods to Aegon and starts to pull our mother back to the main doors of the castle. 

At their absence he turns to me and softly ghosts his fingertips across my red cheek. I look up to him and see the anger in his eyes as he continues to stroke my cheek. I feel the rest of my body heat at his soft touch. He’s not always so soft and delicate but I’ve never really minded. 

“Thank you,” I lean into his touch as his eyes slowly slide to mine. 

“I won’t allow anyone to hurt you anymore. We must come up with a plan.” he places a kiss on my forehead before leading me back into the Keep. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

The past couple of days have consisted of us trying to conjure up a plan to run away or somehow receive an audience with Rhaenyra. We’ve wrote countless letters but none of them seem good enough. Entertaining the idea of running away was all we did the entirety of the first day, but we don’t want to run anymore. We don’t want to be alone, we just want to be loved or die loving each other.

“Let us just send this one and be done with it.” Aegon sighs pushing his chair back from the table in our chambers. 

Sister

I never wanted this and I know father never wanted this. Please, can we meet on the shores and find common ground. I have no wish for the crown, you can have it. Please.

Aegon and Y/n

“I think this one will do what we need it to. She’ll either meet us on the beach or The Stranger will.” I sigh folding the parchment and sealing it with wax. 

“As long as we’re together.” he says softly looking up to me. 

“As long as we’re together.” I hum nodding my head. 

We leave our chambers as we walk to the tower where the ravens are kept. We send off the raven and watch as its wings carry our plea into the horizon. We walk down to the dining hall where we see the table empty and dusty. The Red Keep has been a shell since our father passed and our mother usurped the throne. 

“It seems as if we’ll be dining in our chambers again.” I sigh going to turn out of the hall. 

“No, have a seat and I’ll call the servants. We can dine here.” Aegon shakes his head and goes to pull out a chair for me. 

He pushes my chair in for me before leaving the hall and returns with a herd of servants trailing behind him. They quickly place and light candles around the hall helping bring some of the life back. Aegon slips into the chair next to mine as a servant comes and fills up our cups with wine. A smile spreads across my face as I recognize our favorite summer wine.

“Did you really take another bottle?” I turn to him and see him offering me a genuine smile. 

“We deserve our favorite wine with dinner,” he hums licking his lips. 

“Indeed,” I raise my glass to him and sigh as the sweet wine trickles down my throat.

The servants fill our plates and continue to bring out different dishes. Once we’re fully sated we retire back to our chambers. The heaviness of our disastrous apartments weighs us down as we seal the doors behind us. He pushes clothes and other miscellaneous items out of our path before he lets out a deep sigh and falls back on the bed. 

“Do you think Rhaenyra will listen to us?” he mumbles wiping his eyes. 

“We can only hope.” I hum as I crawl on the bed next to him. 

“If she doesn’t then this is our last night.” he turns to me with sad eyes but I can see the underlying relief that I know is mirrored in my own.

I press my lips to his softly. It starts off slow and innocent but soon he’s pulling me on top of him. He pulls my dress up around my waist and digs his fingers into my hips. His fingers find my wetness quickly and I’m gasping into his mouth. 

“Only place I want to die is between your thighs.” he breaks our kiss breathing heavily. 

He pulls me up his body and I know his desire. I slide off of him and lift my skirts to straddle his face. His hands grab my hips and places me on his lips. He places wet kisses along my thighs before licking my slit. I sigh in pleasure as he begins to swirl around my bud. My hips start to move against him and his responding groan sends vibrations straight to my core. 

“Aegon,” I breathlessly whine as his hands begin to slide me across his mouth. 

His tongue flicks against me relentlessly as my hips start moving on their own. His fingers dig into my thighs roughly as he feasts upon me. My body goes taught as I pulse around his tongue with his name falling from my lips. 

“Fuck, my King,” his tittle slips out before I can stop it. 

He seals his lips around my sensitive bud and my hips shutter from the pleasure he keeps offering me. I’m moaning loudly as he continues to rock me against his mouth. His tongue slips down to my core as his nose brushes against my bud. Pleasure starts to ripple through me as I toss my head back grinding down on to him. 

“Aegon, I-“ my voice breaks into a cry as he continues with his tongue. 

He chuckles into my wetness causing shockwaves to travel throughout my body. I’m babbling above him as he coaxes me through a third climax. My hands grab his to try and pry them from my hips. I finally collapse next to him on the bed and try to catch my breath. He starts to pull my dress off of me and once I’m bare his hands grab for my breasts. 

I start to lift his shirt off and he finishes removing it quickly following with his trousers. His hard length bounces against his stomach before he dips down to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I whimper as he bites down, pulling it between his teeth while he looks up to me through his thick lashes. He makes his way to my other peak to tease it with his teeth. 

My fingers thread through his hair before they go to the expanse of his back. I bring one of my hands between us to slowly start pumping him. He grunts as he continues to pull and tease my nipples. I swipe against his leaking tip and he whines against my chest. He removes himself from my breasts and watches my hand stroke him. 

“Fuck,” he pants as I start to pump him faster. 

He starts to jerk his hips into my hand as his head falls to my shoulder. He whimpers as he gets lost in his pleasure while sucking on my neck. His hand grabs mine and stops my movements. He trails his tip through my wetness causing a shiver to trail through me. 

He pushes into me and watches as my face relaxes in pleasure at his stretch. Once he’s fully bottomed out he grinds his hips into me slowly. I moan as my fingers dig into his shoulders as he keeps up his slow, deep movements as his hair falls into my face. I clench around him and his forehead falls to mine as his breaths come out heavier. 

He starts to rock his hips and I whine as he finally begins to move faster. His breath starts to come out in pants again as his hips start to snap into mine. I cling on to him as his pace quickens while moans pour from my mouth. He wraps one of my legs around his waist and I sob at the new angle. 

“Yes, Aegon,” I pant as I throw my head back into the pillow. 

He continues to rut into me and I bring my other leg to wrap around him and his hips falter at the deeper angle. My hips meet his as we chase our pleasure together. Our breath mingles while we whimper out each other’s names. 

“Love you so fucking much,” his words slurred from pleasure as he slams his hips into mine. 

Pleasure courses through me at his words as my walls contract around him. I feel him start to fill me as he continues to rock into me. His hips still and he leans down to capture my lips in a bruising kiss. I moan into his mouth as he grinds his hips into mine once more before slowly pulling out. 

“Just gimme a couple minutes,” he pants laying next to me. 

His hands trail all over my body as I try to catch my breath. His hands travel down to my soaked core as he slips his fingers in and begins to pump his seed back into me. My legs close around his hand as he curls his fingers wringing more pleasure from my body. I cry out his name as I flutter around his fingers and he pulls them out and brings them to his mouth. 

He groans and rolls on top of me to kiss me. I moan into his mouth at the taste of myself on him. He licks my lips and travels down my neck and stops at my breasts again. He attaches to one of my hardened nipples and roughly grabs my other breast. I arch my chest up into his mouth as his roughness causes more wetness to pool between my thighs. 

“Aegon, I need you,” I mewl trying to buck my hips into him but I end up just sliding myself on his thigh. 

He grunts from my chest and bends his knee so I can grind against his thigh. I have one hand buried in his silver locks while the other grips his shoulder as he peppers my chest with attention. My hips are feverishly grinding against his thigh looking for any friction they can find. I pull his hair to get his attention that I want him to move lower and he releases the nipple he’s been holding hostage. 

“Always so fucking needy.” he chuckles but kisses down my torso nonetheless. 

The second his tongue laps against my bud my hand is flying to his hair pulling him closer to me. I’m grinding against his face as sobs rack through me. He slams two fingers into me pulling pleasure from me. He pushes a third finger in and my eyes are rolling to the back of my head and moans fall from my mouth. My orgasm slams through me stealing my breath as I try to pull his face away from me. I get him about an inch away before his hand grabs my wrist. 

“Oh no no, my sweet girl this is what you wanted.” he chuckles lowly as his grip on my wrist tightens before he dips back down to continue licking at me. 

My whole body is shaking as his tongue zeros in on my clit. My thighs squeeze around his head as my chest heaves. My back arches off the bed as my fingers continue to pull at his hair. 

“Aegon, fuck Aegon, please,” I whine bucking my hips as pleasure bursts through me all over his face. He pulls away from my core with a wet face and a wide smile.

“Love when you do that,” he licks his lips before he shoves his tongue into my mouth. 

I moan into our kiss as I feel his length press against me. He humps against me and my legs quake in anticipation. He slips into my core and my eyes shut. His hands grab mine to hold them above my head as he pounds into me. 

“Gunna come again for me? Taking me so fucking good,” his pelvis grinds into my clit and I sob as pleasure ripples through me and I feel as if it’s never ending. 

He rolls his hips as pleasure begins to wash through him. I come clenching around him once more as my vision blurs. When my eyes open again he’s peppering kisses all around my face. As he moves I can still feel him buried deep in me and I whine squirming.

“I always think you’re the most perfect when you’re thoroughly fucked, flushed cheeks, still squeezing my cock.” he groans grinding into me. 

“Aegon,” tears prick at the edges of my eyes as he still pushes into me. 

He slowly pumps in and out chuckling at my whimpers. He pulls out which leaves me feeling empty. He slides down and lays between my thighs resting his head on my stomach. I run my fingers through his hair as we both come down from our highs. I shut my eyes as I keep my fingers tangled in his hair as his arms wrap around me tightly. 

“Do you love me?” he mumbles against my skin.

“You know I do, very much.” I hum still petting his hair. He snuggles into me as we drift off not caring what tomorrow holds as long as we’re together. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

this was super self indulgent 🫣😅 

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @anaviieiraaa @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @zanygot7straykidsbonk

[romanticwrld]

[m0urnlnglamb]

01.11.25 moodboard

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Acrostic

Acrostic poem - a type of poem where the first letter of each line (or each paragraph) forms a hidden message or word.

A fun way to craft an ode to your beloved or a sneaky form of dissent—public resignations by disgruntled officials are a particularly popular place to deploy one—acrostic poetry can be very simple and spare, or take a more understated form in full verse.

The word “acrostic” comes from the French acrostiche, descended from the Ancient Greek phrase meaning “highest, or topmost verse.” Acrostics (like their cousin, the acronym) can also be highly useful mnemonic devices.

How to Write an Acrostic Poem

Unlike other forms of poetry, there are no rules when it comes to rhyme or meter for acrostics, so writing one can be a relaxing kind of word puzzle. You may find that you develop a naturally consistent rhythm or line length as you make your way through.

To write your own acrostic, break apart a single word, so that the individual letters become the initial letters of their own respective lines (or, if you like, the last letters of each line).

Let the word you chose serve as the theme of the poem; get inspired by nature, like in haiku, or use the name of your best friend to extol upon their virtues.

You can also craft an acrostic by listing out the letters of the alphabet in order, a variation called an abecedarius. (An abecedarian sounds easy enough, but the real trick comes when you reach x.)

Examples of Acrostic Poems

Acrostics were incredibly popular in medieval literature, where the hidden words were tucked in as tributes to a wealthy patron or prayers to a saint. They even appeared in the original Hebrew of The Old Testament, popping up in psalms and proverbs.

Classical literary examples of acrostics include this unnamed ode to an Elizabeth from Edgar Allan Poe, written around 1829 and only discovered after his death:

Elizabeth it is in vain you say "Love not"—thou sayest it in so sweet a way: In vain those words from thee or L.E.L. Zantippe's talents had enforced so well: Ah! if that language from thy heart arise, Breath it less gently forth—and veil thine eyes. Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried To cure his love—was cured of all beside— His follie—pride—and passion—for he died.

Lewis Carroll often wrote acrostics for the neighboring Liddell girls, Lorina, Alice, and Edith, like this one from Christmas of 1861:

Little maidens, when you look On this little story-book, Reading with attentive eye Its enticing history, Never think that hours of play Are your only HOLIDAY.

And that in a HOUSE of joy Lessons serve but to annoy: If in any HOUSE you find Children of a gentle mind, Each the others pleasing ever.

Each the others vexing never- Daily work and pastime daily In their order taking gaily- Then be very sure that they Have a life of HOLIDAY.

And in his famous book, Through the Looking-Glass, Carrol’s ending chapter "A Boat, Beneath A Sunny Sky" is also an acrostic, featuring the full name of his main character’s namesake: Alice Pleasance Liddell.

A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July - Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear - Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes. Children yet, the tale to hear, Eager eye and willing ear, Lovingly shall nestle near. In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream - Lingering in the golden gleam - Life, what is it but a dream?

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[novaursa]

Caught by Fire (the acceptance)

- Summary: A story where Daemon's daughter falls from the sky. And by some strange events orchestrated by fate, Otto catches you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the meddling

- Next part: the reality

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

The corridor was quiet, save for the soft echo of footsteps against the polished stone floor. Otto Hightower walked at a measured pace, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his thoughts preoccupied with the latest council matters. He had avoided the gardens and most of the court’s more leisurely gatherings for days, deliberately keeping himself occupied with tasks that would shield him from unwanted encounters—especially with you.

But fate had other plans.

He turned a corner sharply and came to an abrupt halt. There you were, standing near one of the tall windows, your silver hair gleaming in the soft light that streamed through the glass. You were dressed simply compared to the finery of court—your gown was a pale lavender with minimal adornment—but you looked no less regal for it. You seemed lost in thought, gazing out at the city below.

Otto’s breath caught, his usual composure faltering. For a moment, he considered turning around and leaving before you noticed him. But then your gaze shifted, catching his movement, and it was too late.

“Lord Hightower,” you greeted, your voice warm but tinged with something else—curiosity, perhaps.

“Princess,” Otto replied, inclining his head. His tone was formal, but there was no disguising the awkwardness in his posture. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” you said, turning fully to face him. “I was only… taking a moment to think.”

“As we all must, from time to time,” Otto said, his words carefully chosen. He stepped closer, though he kept a respectful distance. “The city is quieter from up here. Easier to reflect.”

You smiled faintly, your eyes studying him. “I suppose you don’t often allow yourself such moments, do you?”

Otto hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “The demands of the realm rarely permit it.”

“That’s what Alicent said,” you remarked, your tone light but deliberate.

Otto stiffened slightly, the mention of his daughter sending a ripple of discomfort through him. “Did she?”

“She spoke of you fondly,” you continued, stepping closer. “She told me about your dedication, your sacrifices. She seems to admire you greatly.”

Otto’s throat tightened. He could feel the weight of your gaze, and he was acutely aware of how close you stood. “Alicent is… kind. Perhaps too kind, at times.”

“I don’t think so,” you said softly. “She seems honest. And what she told me… it made me see you differently.”

Otto’s pulse quickened, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. “Differently?”

You nodded, your tone thoughtful. “You’ve always seemed so… untouchable. Unshakable. But hearing about what you’ve endured, how much you’ve given… It reminded me that even the strongest among us are human.”

Otto felt a strange mixture of emotions—pride, shame, and a deep unease he couldn’t quite name. “The realm demands much of those who serve it,” he said quietly. “But that is no excuse to impose those burdens on others.”

“You don’t impose,” you said firmly. “You carry them silently. Too silently, perhaps.”

He glanced away, the words striking uncomfortably close to truths he tried to ignore. “Silence is often necessary.”

“But not always,” you countered, stepping closer still. “Sometimes, it’s better to share the weight.”

Otto looked at you then, truly looked, and the earnestness in your eyes left him momentarily unmoored. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

The silence stretched, and you tilted your head slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Have I unsettled you, Lord Hightower?”

Otto exhaled sharply, a faint, self-deprecating smile crossing his face. “Perhaps a little, Princess. It’s not often I find myself at a loss for words.”

“Good,” you said lightly, though your tone carried warmth. “It’s nice to know you’re not entirely impervious.”

Before he could respond, a servant appeared at the far end of the corridor, bowing deeply. “Princess, Lord Hightower, the king requests your presence in the solar.”

You turned back to Otto, your expression unreadable. “Duty calls, as always.”

“As always,” Otto murmured, inclining his head. “Shall we?”

You nodded, and the two of you walked together down the corridor, the silence between you no longer awkward but laden with something unspoken. Otto felt unsteady—and he wasn’t entirely sure if he welcomed or dreaded the feeling.

The walk to the royal solar was a quiet one, the sound of your footsteps and Otto's echoing faintly in the stone corridors. The tension that lingered between you was subtle but undeniable, an unspoken current that neither of you acknowledged but both clearly felt.

When you reached the heavy oak doors, a steward opened them with a low bow, gesturing for you to enter. The solar was bathed in the soft light of late afternoon, the large windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. King Viserys sat at the head of a small table, his expression tired but warm as he looked up to greet you both.

“Ah, there you are,” Viserys said, gesturing for you and Otto to join him. “Please, come. Sit.”

You moved to the seat nearest the king, your gown flowing gracefully behind you as you took your place. Otto hesitated briefly before seating himself across from you, his posture as rigid as ever.

The table was modestly set, with a pitcher of wine, three goblets, and a platter of figs and almonds. Viserys poured himself a goblet, then motioned for you both to do the same.

“I thought it best to discuss a matter of some importance in a more private setting,” Viserys began, his tone casual but his words deliberate. “The court is too noisy for conversations such as these.”

You exchanged a glance with Otto, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, Your Grace,” you said softly.

Viserys leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “You’ve both seen how the lords of the realm have been clamoring lately. Every day, new petitions arrive for Rhaenyra’s hand—and yours,” he added, his gaze flickering to you.

You inclined your head slightly, keeping your tone measured. “It seems the realm is never short of ambition, Your Grace.”

Viserys chuckled, though it lacked true mirth. “That’s one way to put it. Daemon, of course, has made his thoughts on the matter abundantly clear.”

Otto’s jaw tightened slightly, though he remained silent. Viserys’s gaze shifted to him, and he leaned forward, his tone more serious now.

“Tell me, Otto, what do you make of all this? These endless suitors vying for the princess’s hand?”

Otto chose his words carefully, his voice steady and deliberate. “The lords of the realm see opportunity in a match with the princess, Your Grace. It is a chance to tie themselves to the Targaryen dynasty and solidify their influence. But whether their intentions are purely for the good of the realm… is another matter.”

Viserys nodded slowly, his expression contemplative. “And do you think Daemon is right to reject them all outright?”

“I think Prince Daemon is protective of his daughter,” Otto said carefully. “Perhaps overly so. But his caution is not without merit. A match of this significance requires… careful consideration.”

You watched the exchange, noting the slight tension in Otto’s posture and the deliberate way he chose his words. It was clear he was treading carefully, though his usual confidence was still evident.

“And you, niece?” Viserys asked, turning his attention to you. “What are your thoughts on these… suitors?”

You hesitated, choosing your words with care. “Many of them seem more interested in what I represent than in who I am, Your Grace. It’s difficult to see sincerity in their words when they all sound the same.”

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temple. “I feared as much. This is the curse of our house, I suppose. To be desired for our dragons and our name, rather than for ourselves.”

A silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire. Finally, Viserys leaned forward, his tone softening.

“You know,” he said, looking between the two of you, “I’ve always admired those who serve the realm not for ambition, but for duty. People who see the bigger picture, who understand what’s truly at stake.”

Otto inclined his head, his voice calm. “The realm always comes first, Your Grace. That is our duty.”

“And it’s a heavy one,” Viserys said, his gaze lingering on Otto. “You’ve carried it well, Otto. But even the strongest of us need… allies.”

Otto’s expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, perhaps, or unease. You glanced at him, sensing the weight of the king’s words and the subtle implications they carried.

“Princess,” Viserys said, turning back to you, his tone warm. “You have a sharp mind and a strong spirit. I trust that whatever path you choose, it will be one that strengthens the realm.”

You inclined your head, your voice steady. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will do my best to honor that trust.”

Viserys smiled faintly, though his expression was tinged with weariness. “Good. That’s all I can ask.”

The conversation shifted then, moving to lighter topics—the state of the city, the latest developments in the Riverlands—but the weight of the earlier discussion lingered. Otto remained quiet for much of it, his usual confidence muted by a strange tension.

When the meeting finally concluded, and you rose to leave, Viserys offered a parting smile. “Thank you both for your counsel. It’s always appreciated.”

As you stepped into the corridor, Otto lingered behind for a moment, his expression thoughtful. You glanced back at him, your gaze meeting his briefly before you turned and walked away.

Otto exhaled deeply, running a hand over his face as he stood in the doorway. The king’s words echoed in his mind, stirring emotions he would rather have ignored. He had spent a lifetime serving the realm, putting duty above all else. But now, for the first time, he found himself questioning whether his path was as unshakable as he’d once believed.

Rhaenyra Targaryen sat comfortably in one of the high-backed chairs, a goblet of wine cradled in her hand. Her silver hair spilled over her shoulders, and her expression was thoughtful, though there was a hint of mischief in her violet eyes.

Daemon Targaryen, leaning against the mantle, swirled his own goblet idly, his features illuminated by the firelight. He looked as he always did—untamed, exuding both menace and charm. But the faint scowl on his face betrayed his irritation.

“You’re brooding, Uncle,” Rhaenyra teased, breaking the silence. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Daemon shot her a sharp look but said nothing. He took a sip of his wine instead, his eyes flickering to the flames. Rhaenyra studied him for a moment before smirking.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

Daemon stiffened slightly, though he tried to hide it. “Who?”

“Your daughter,” Rhaenyra said, setting her goblet down on the table beside her. “She’s all anyone seems to talk about these days. Her suitors, her future… even the court can’t seem to keep her name out of their mouths.”

“She’s my concern, not theirs,” Daemon said flatly, his tone carrying an edge. “And I’ve made it clear to Viserys that she’s not to be treated like some bargaining chip.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “You’ve certainly made your opinions known, Uncle. But it seems not everyone is taking them to heart.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to face her fully. “What are you talking about?”

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, her expression turning more serious. “I saw her earlier today. She was speaking with Otto Hightower.”

Daemon’s grip on his goblet tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And?”

“And,” Rhaenyra said, drawing out the word, “they seemed… close. Not improper, of course, but there was a certain familiarity. A warmth, even.”

Daemon’s scowl deepened. “Hightower has no business speaking to her.”

“Oh, I don’t think it was a mere coincidence,” Rhaenyra said, her tone turning thoughtful. “Especially since I saw Alicent hovering around her just a few days ago.”

At that, Daemon’s eyes flashed with anger. “Alicent too? What game are they playing?”

Rhaenyra shrugged, though there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I couldn’t say. But it seems strange, doesn’t it? Alicent rarely takes an interest in anyone outside her immediate circle, and Otto… well, he’s not exactly the sociable type.”

Daemon set his goblet down on the mantle with more force than necessary. “Whatever their intentions, they’d best remember who she is—and who I am.”

Rhaenyra smiled faintly, though there was a flicker of concern in her gaze. “You can’t protect her from everything, Uncle. She’s a grown woman now, and the court will always find ways to pull her into its games.”

“She’s not a piece on their board,” Daemon said firmly. “And I’ll make damn sure they understand that.”

Rhaenyra sighed, picking up her goblet again and swirling the wine thoughtfully. “You can’t control everything, Daemon. She’s your daughter, yes, but she’s also her own person. She’ll make her own choices, whether you like them or not.”

“She’s still my blood,” Daemon growled. “And I’ll burn anyone who tries to use her.”

“Even Otto?” Rhaenyra asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Especially Otto,” Daemon said darkly.

Rhaenyra chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, Uncle.”

“And you’re meddlesome,” Daemon shot back, though his tone lacked true venom.

Rhaenyra raised her goblet in a mock toast. “Meddlesome, perhaps. But I’m also right. You’d do well to remember that.”

Daemon muttered something under his breath, turning back to the fire. His mind raced, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. The thought of Otto Hightower—or anyone, for that matter—trying to ingratiate themselves with you was enough to ignite his infamous temper.

But as much as he hated to admit it, Rhaenyra’s words lingered in his mind. You were not a child anymore. And while he could fight off suitors and rivals, he couldn’t shield you from the choices you would inevitably make.

Still, one thing was certain: Otto Hightower had better tread carefully. Daemon would not tolerate any overreach, no matter how subtle.

Otto Hightower walked with his usual measured pace, his thoughts preoccupied with the day’s council matters. He had spent the evening pouring over reports in his solar, but something compelled him to step out and clear his mind before retiring for the night.

He turned a corner near the east wing, heading toward the Tower of the Hand, when a shadow moved in the dim light. Before Otto could react, Prince Daemon Targaryen stepped into his path, his silver hair gleaming even in the low light. His dark violet eyes were sharp and cold, his stance relaxed yet exuding a barely contained menace.

“Lord Hightower,” Daemon said, his voice low and dripping with false cordiality. “Out for a stroll?”

Otto stopped, his composure unshaken despite the hostility in the air. “Prince Daemon,” he replied calmly. “To what do I owe this… encounter?”

Daemon smirked, though there was no warmth in it. He stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor. “We’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we?”

Otto tilted his head slightly, his expression impassive. “If you’re referring to your earlier warnings, I remember them well.”

“Good,” Daemon said, his voice dropping lower. “Then you’ll also remember what I said would happen if you ignored them.”

Otto’s fingers tightened slightly behind his back, though he kept his tone steady. “I recall your warnings, my prince. And I’ve made no move to defy you.”

Daemon chuckled darkly, taking another step closer until they were mere feet apart. “No move? Is that what you call it? Speaking with her in the gardens, lingering in her presence, sending her gifts. Shall I continue?”

Otto’s lips thinned, his thoughts racing even as his expression remained calm. “I have done nothing improper.”

“Improper?” Daemon repeated mockingly, his smirk widening. “Spare me your pretenses, Hightower. I see what you’re doing. I see the way you look at her.”

For a moment, there was silence, the weight of Daemon’s words hanging heavily in the air. Otto could feel the prince’s piercing gaze on him, cutting and unrelenting. And for the first time, Otto made no effort to deny it.

“You’re right,” Otto said quietly, his voice measured but resolute.

Daemon froze, his smirk faltering as his eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re right,” Otto repeated, meeting Daemon’s gaze without flinching. “I care for her. More than I should.”

The tension between them crackled like a live wire. Daemon took another step forward, his face inches from Otto’s now. “Do you have a death wish, Hightower?” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because that’s what this is. A slow, agonizing death.”

Otto’s jaw tightened, but he refused to back down. “I have served the realm my entire life, Prince Daemon. I have sacrificed everything—my family, my happiness, my own desires—for the good of the kingdom. But this… this is not something I chose. It simply is.”

Daemon’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap. “She’s my daughter,” he hissed. “My blood. Do you think I’ll stand by while you drag her into whatever twisted scheme you’ve concocted?”

“This is no scheme,” Otto said firmly. “And I would never dishonor her—or you. My feelings, however inconvenient, are genuine.”

Daemon’s laughter was cold and humorless. “Genuine? You think that matters? She’s a Targaryen princess, Hightower. She’s fire and blood. And you are nothing more than a servant of the realm.”

“A servant who has given his life to protect it,” Otto shot back, his voice rising slightly. “I understand the difference between us, Prince Daemon. I understand what I am. But that doesn’t change the truth.”

Daemon’s eyes blazed with fury, his breathing shallow and rapid. For a moment, Otto thought he might strike him. But then, with a sharp exhale, Daemon stepped back, his smirk returning, though it was colder than ever.

“You’ve overplayed your hand, Hightower,” Daemon said, his voice laced with venom. “Whatever game you think you’re playing, remember this: I will not let you—or anyone—manipulate her. If I even suspect that you’re trying to twist this to your advantage, I’ll put you in the ground myself.”

Otto inclined his head, his tone calm but unyielding. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Daemon stared at him for a long moment, the silence between them thick with unspoken threats. Finally, he turned on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he strode away.

Otto remained standing in the corridor long after Daemon had gone, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflict and determination. He had faced many challenges in his life, but this… this was a battle unlike any other. And he knew the cost of losing it could be far greater than he was willing to pay.

The throne room of the Red Keep was bustling with the usual chaos of court. Lords and ladies lined the hall, their voices blending into a constant hum of petitions, grievances, and flattery aimed at King Viserys I. The king sat atop the Iron Throne, his expression weary as he listened to yet another noble drone on about grain levies in the Riverlands. Beside him stood Ser Harrold Westerling, the ever-watchful Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Amidst the mundane court proceedings, Daemon Targaryen leaned casually against one of the pillars near the dais, his face a mask of barely concealed disdain. Having been ordered to attend court by Viserys earlier that morning, Daemon was already on edge. His confrontation with Otto Hightower the previous night still simmered in his thoughts, and the constant buzzing of suitors vying for his daughter’s hand had done nothing to soothe his temper.

It was into this tense atmosphere that Lord Borros Baratheon stepped forward, his booming voice cutting through the din of the hall.

“Your Grace,” Borros began, his deep baritone carrying easily across the room. “I come before you not for myself, but for my eldest son, Elwood. He is a fine knight, strong and loyal, and I would humbly request that you consider him as a match for your niece, the princess.”

The room quieted instantly. All eyes turned to Viserys, who looked visibly uncomfortable. Before he could respond, Daemon pushed off the pillar, his face darkening as he strode toward the center of the hall.

“Enough,” Daemon said sharply, his voice like a whip crack. “I’ve told you lot before—my daughter is not a prize to be handed out at court.”

Borros bristled, his thick brows drawing together in irritation. “Prince Daemon, I mean no disrespect. This is a matter of alliance, of strengthening ties between—”

“I don’t care about your alliances,” Daemon interrupted, his tone growing more heated. “And I certainly don’t care about your son. My daughter is not some token to be bartered for your ambitions.”

“Daemon,” Viserys said warningly from the throne, his voice low. “Enough.”

But Daemon wasn’t listening. He stepped closer to Borros, his dark violet eyes blazing with fury. “If your son is half the man you claim, perhaps he should prove it in battle rather than hiding behind his father’s titles.”

Gasps rippled through the court, and Borros’s face turned red with anger. “You insult my house, Prince Daemon. Baratheons are no cowards.”

“Then act like it,” Daemon sneered. “Stop groveling for scraps and show some spine.”

“Daemon!” Viserys’s voice rang out, his tone filled with authority. He rose from the Iron Throne, his expression thunderous. “That is enough!”

The room fell silent, the weight of the king’s anger settling over the crowd. Daemon turned to face his brother, his defiance clear in the set of his jaw.

“Your temper does the realm no favors,” Viserys said coldly. “This is not the way we conduct ourselves at court.”

Daemon smirked, though it lacked its usual charm. “Then perhaps the court should stop insulting my family.”

Viserys descended the steps of the throne, stopping just short of Daemon. His voice was low but firm as he spoke. “Leave, Daemon. Now. Before you make this worse.”

For a moment, it seemed as though Daemon might argue, but the tension in the air was palpable. Finally, with a muttered curse, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him.

The court remained silent, all eyes on Viserys as he turned to face Lord Borros, who stood rigid with anger.

“My apologies, Lord Baratheon,” Viserys said, his tone conciliatory. “My brother’s temper is… unfortunate, but I assure you, his words do not reflect the sentiments of the crown.”

Borros hesitated, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “Your Grace, I meant no offense. My son’s intentions are honorable.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Viserys said quickly, his expression earnest. “But you must understand—my niece’s future is a sensitive matter. Prince Daemon’s… protectiveness can sometimes blind him to the nuances of courtly matters.”

“Protectiveness is one word for it,” Borros muttered under his breath, though loud enough for those nearby to hear.

Viserys chose to ignore the comment, instead gesturing for a servant to bring wine. “Let us not allow this incident to sour relations between our houses. Please, join me for a drink, and we can discuss matters of mutual interest.”

Borros hesitated but finally inclined his head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

As the animosity in the room eased slightly, Viserys returned to his throne, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the day’s events. He cast a glance toward Otto Hightower, who stood at his usual post near the dais, his expression carefully neutral.

“We’ll need to smooth this over further,” Viserys murmured to Otto, his voice low enough that only the Hand could hear. “The last thing we need is to alienate the Baratheons.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Otto said smoothly. “I’ll ensure the matter is handled delicately.”

As the court resumed its hum of activity, Viserys leaned back in his seat, exhaustion etched into his features. Otto Hightower remained near the dais, his eyes sweeping the hall. Though the immediate tension had abated with Daemon’s stormy exit, the undercurrent of unease lingered. Lords exchanged murmurs in hushed tones, and the servants moved with extra care, as if the very walls of the Red Keep had absorbed the prince’s fury.

Viserys, seated once more on the Iron Throne, looked weary beyond his years. His fingers drummed absently on the cold metal armrest as he leaned toward Otto, signaling him closer.

Otto stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Your Grace.”

Viserys sighed heavily, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “My brother grows more reckless by the day. This outburst… it’s an insult not only to Lord Borros but to the court itself.”

Otto inclined his head, his tone carefully neutral. “Prince Daemon’s temper has always been his greatest flaw. Yet his… protectiveness of his daughter is not without reason. He sees threats in every shadow.”

Viserys frowned, his gaze drifting to the far end of the hall where Lord Borros still lingered, speaking with a cluster of bannermen. “Even so, his behavior undermines our efforts to maintain unity. I cannot have the crown perceived as divided.”

“Unity is paramount, Your Grace,” Otto agreed. “But if I may speak plainly?”

Viserys waved a hand wearily. “Speak.”

“Prince Daemon’s presence here in King’s Landing is as much a liability as it is an asset,” Otto said, his voice quiet but firm. “He provokes the court, alienates powerful houses, and complicates matters that require delicate handling. His outburst today, though directed at Lord Borros, casts a shadow over your reign.”

Viserys’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You would have me send him away again? To exile him as I did before?”

“I merely suggest that his presence here be… limited,” Otto said diplomatically. “Perhaps he could return to Dragonstone or undertake a task outside the capital. Somewhere his passions might be better spent.”

Viserys rubbed his temples, clearly torn. “Daemon is still my brother, Otto. And he is still the father of my niece. If I send him away now, it will only deepen the rift between us.”

Otto paused, his gaze flickering briefly toward you, who were still seated among the courtiers, your calm demeanor in stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded earlier. His tone softened slightly.

“Your Grace, your bond with your brother is undeniable. But the decisions you make now must be for the good of the realm, not just for the sake of familial ties. The matter of the princess’s future is delicate, and Daemon’s interference only complicates it further.”

Viserys followed Otto’s gaze, his expression conflicted. “I know. Gods help me, I know. But Daemon will not yield on this. He’s as stubborn as our father was—perhaps more so.”

Otto stepped closer, lowering his voice further. “Then perhaps the solution lies in clarity. If the princess’s future is decided—secure—there will be no room for disputes. Daemon’s protectiveness will have no target.”

Viserys raised an eyebrow, his tone tinged with suspicion. “You speak as though the matter can be settled so easily.”

“Not easily, Your Grace,” Otto said, bowing his head slightly. “But decisively.”

Viserys leaned back, exhaling deeply. “And who would you suggest, Otto? Who among these lords is worthy of her hand, in your esteemed opinion?”

Otto hesitated, his thoughts racing. He knew the answer he wanted to give but also understood the danger of voicing it. “That decision rests with you, Your Grace. But it should be a choice that strengthens the crown and calms the court.”

Viserys studied him for a moment, his gaze piercing. “You tread carefully, Otto.”

“As I must,” Otto replied evenly. “For the good of the realm.”

The king sighed again, his weariness evident. “Very well. I will consider what you’ve said. But for now, I need to speak with Lord Borros. I cannot afford to lose his favor.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Otto said with a bow. “Shall I summon him?”

“No,” Viserys said, rising slowly from the throne. “This is a mess I must clean myself.”

As the king descended the steps of the dais, Otto stepped back, watching as Viserys approached Lord Borros with a conciliatory air. The court shifted its attention to the pair, whispers rippling through the crowd.

Otto remained still, his expression unreadable as his thoughts churned. The day had been more chaotic than even he had anticipated, and Daemon’s outburst only confirmed what he already knew: the prince was a volatile force, and his grip on you—on your future—was unshakable.

But Otto was nothing if not patient. And in the quiet of his mind, he began to formulate the next move in a game that required precision, subtlety, and, most of all, resolve.

[estellan0vella]

Goth Vampire Mafia Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon and you’ve got the living room to yourself. The tattoo parlour is closed for the day, and you’re cosied up on the living room couch with a blanket draped over your legs, the first Twilight movie queued up and ready to go. The TV’s soft glow is the only light in the room as you settle in, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

Just as the movie starts, you hear little footsteps padding down the hallway. Yuji, your boyfriend Sukuna's younger brother, peeks into the living room with curious eyes.

“Whatcha watching, Y/N/N?” he asks, climbing up beside you on the couch.

“Twilight,” you reply with a smile, ruffling his hair. “Want to join?”

“Sure!” Yuji grins, snuggling up beside you.

When the scene comes where Edward stops the car with his hand to save Bella, Sukuna can't contain his disbelief as he walks into the room and sits down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Did he just stop a moving car with his hand? And no one questions this? Are all the humans in this town idiots?”

The iconic forest scene soon appears. Edward Cullen, looking as brooding as ever, says to Bella, “You’re my own personal brand of heroin.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Sukuna scoffs. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Just wait, Kuna,” you tease, “it gets better.”

The movie continues, and soon it’s the infamous spider monkey scene. Edward lifts Bella onto his back and takes off into the trees. Sukuna lets out a bark of laughter. “Spider monkey? Who the hell wrote this script?”

By the time Yuji’s eyes light up at Alice’s entrance, you can tell he’s hooked. “She’s so cool,” he whispers, watching her with rapt attention. You smile, noting his budding crush.

As the movie progresses, Sukuna's running commentary continues, providing a constant stream of humorous and critical remarks. When the scene comes where Edward reveals he’s been watching Bella sleep for months, Sukuna’s incredulity peaks.

“Why the hell is he watching her sleep? That’s creepy as fuck,” he says, shaking his head.

Yuji looks up at him, curious. “Why does he do that, Suku?”

“Because he’s a fucking weirdo,” Sukuna answers bluntly. “Only a complete creep would think that’s romantic.”

You chuckle, trying to keep your laughter quiet, and ruffle Yuji’s hair. “Just remember, Yuji, if you like a girl, don’t ever do that.”

Sukuna nods, smirking. “Exactly. Normal people don’t stalk their crushes while they sleep.”

As the movie continues, Sukuna finds more to criticize about Edward’s behaviour. During the infamous scene where Edward takes Bella to meet his family and they play baseball, Sukuna can't help but comment on Edward’s overprotectiveness.

“Look at this guy, acting all possessive. Bella can’t even hang out with his family without him hovering over her,” Sukuna says, rolling his eyes.

Yuji, still entranced by the movie, asks, “Isn’t he just trying to keep her safe?”

Sukuna snorts. “There’s a difference between keeping someone safe and treating them like they’re made of glass. Edward’s got control issues.”

When James, the villain, makes his entrance, Sukuna’s disdain is palpable. “This guy’s supposed to be a threat? What a loser.”

When the movie reaches the climax with the showdown in the ballet studio, Sukuna’s frustration with James grows. “So, this is the big plan? Lure her to a ballet studio? Real original, James.”

As James taunts Bella and the tension builds, Sukuna’s disdain is clear. “This guy talks too much. If he spent less time monologuing and more time actually doing something, maybe he’d be a real threat.”

When Edward finally arrives and the fight ensues, Sukuna critiques every move. “Look at Edward, trying to be all heroic. This fight looks like two high school kids who took one too many drama classes.”

As Edward defeats James and the scene calms, Sukuna leans back with a sigh. “That’s it? All that buildup for such a weak villain. They could have at least made the fight interesting.”

The first movie ends and you pop in New Moon. As Edward breaks up with Bella and she collapses in the forest, Sukuna throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’ve got to be kidding me. All this drama over a breakup? Get a grip, Bella.”

Yuji looks confused. “Why is she so sad, Suku?”

Sukuna sighs. “Because she thinks her world is ending because her sparkly vampire boyfriend left her. It’s ridiculous.”

You can’t help but fangirl a bit when Paul Lahote appears on screen, and Sukuna rolls his eyes every time you sigh over him. “Really, babe? This guy?”

The movie's dramatic elements give Sukuna plenty of material. During one of the many shirtless scenes, he mutters, “Why do they keep stripping every time they turn into wolves? Do they not own shirts?”

Yuji giggles. “Maybe it’s because they get too hot?”

Sukuna shakes his head. “Or maybe it’s just an excuse to show off their abs. Either way, it’s absurd.”

As Bella continues her self-destructive behaviour, Sukuna can’t help but comment. “So she’s jumping off cliffs now? What’s next, bungee jumping without a cord?”

When Bella cliff dives and Edward goes straight to the Volturi, Sukuna groans. “Oh, come on. This is so over-the-top. Just because she jumped off a cliff?”

You laugh, patting Sukuna’s arm. “He thinks she’s dead, Kuna. It’s dramatic, but it’s love.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “Love? This is obsession. There’s a difference.”

The Volturi make their appearance, and Sukuna looks genuinely baffled. “Why is there a vampire goth mafia with creepy twins? This makes no sense.”

As Jane demonstrates her power, Sukuna snickers. “Look at her, trying so hard to be scary with her little pain trick. Adorable.”

Yuji watches intently. “She’s kinda scary, though.”

Sukuna shakes his head. “Scary? Maybe if you’re a toddler. She’s just another overhyped character in this mess.”

When Bella and Alice race to save Edward, Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Of course, now we have a race against time. How cliché can you get?”

The scene where Bella runs through the crowd to stop Edward from revealing himself makes Sukuna groan. “This is straight out of a bad romance novel. Just stop already.”

When Bella saves Edward and they confront the Volturi, Sukuna is unimpressed. “So, he was willing to die because he thought she was dead? This guy needs therapy.”

As the Volturi threaten Bella, Sukuna scoffs. “Now they’re all protective over her again. Make up your mind, Edward. Do you want her in your dangerous world or not?”

The movie drags on with more angst and drama, and Sukuna’s patience wears thin. “This whole movie is just one big pity party. Can we get to something interesting?”

When Jacob confesses his feelings to Bella, Sukuna can’t help but laugh. “Oh great, now the werewolf is in love with her too. This love triangle is a disaster.”

You chuckle, leaning into Sukuna. “It’s supposed to be romantic tension.”

He smirks. “More like romantic nonsense.”

Eclipse begins, and the love triangle heats up. Sukuna can’t stop commenting on it. “This is just ridiculous. Pick one and move on, for god’s sake.”

As Bella flits between Edward and Jacob, Sukuna mutters under his breath. “This girl has no clue what she wants. It’s exhausting just watching her.”

When Victoria makes her appearance, Sukuna smirks. “Finally, someone interesting. Please, someone tear Bella to pieces and end this nonsense.”

During the training scenes with the Cullens and the wolves preparing to fight Victoria's newborn army, Sukuna shakes his head. “So, we’re supposed to believe these inexperienced newborns are a real threat? And the solution is a bunch of reluctant werewolves and a dysfunctional vampire family?”

As the heated argument between Edward and Jacob unfolds, Sukuna bursts out laughing. “Look at these two, fighting over a girl who can’t make up her mind. Pathetic. They should just leave her and become best friends. They’d probably be happier.”

When the proposal scene unfolds, Sukuna’s frustration peaks. “Now they’re getting married? This is the most dysfunctional relationship ever. They’re doomed.”

When Bella and Edward are camping in the mountains, Sukuna snorts. “So let me get this straight, they need Jacob, the human heater, to keep Bella warm? That’s some love triangle they got going on.”

Edward and Jacob’s conversation outside the tent catches Sukuna’s attention. “Look at this, they’re actually bonding over their mutual obsession with Bella. This is the weirdest bromance ever.”

When Bella attempts to kiss Jacob to stop him from leaving, Sukuna’s disdain is evident. “Seriously? She kisses him now? She’s playing them both like a fiddle. This girl is a mess.”

As the final battle approaches and tensions rise, Sukuna comments on every dramatic scene. “Oh, now they’re suddenly a well-coordinated team. Convenient.”

During the battle, Sukuna is actively rooting for Victoria and the newborns. “Come on, make this interesting. At least take out one of the main characters.”

When Victoria and Riley corner Edward and Bella, Sukuna leans forward. “Finally, some action. Let’s see if they can actually pull this off.”

As the battle intensifies, Sukuna can’t help but critique every move. “Edward’s fighting style is so pretentious. And Bella just stands there. Great strategy.”

When Seth and Edward finally defeat Riley and Victoria, Sukuna sighs dramatically. “Well, that was anticlimactic. I was expecting more from the big bad villain.”

The movie moves to the aftermath, with Jacob recovering from his injuries. Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Of course, he gets hurt protecting Bella. Typical.”

As Edward and Bella discuss their future together, Sukuna can’t hold back his sarcasm. “So, after all that, she still chooses the sparkly vampire? Shocking.”

Breaking Dawn Part One is next and the wedding scene unfolds, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Of course, it’s a big fancy wedding. Because nothing says ‘forever’ like an over-the-top ceremony.”

When Bella and Edward’s romantic escapades start, Sukuna scoffs. “Oh great, now they’re making the bed look like it’s been through a tornado. Who knew vampires had such a destructive streak?”

Yuji giggles from behind your and Sukuna's hands. “Why are they breaking everything?”

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “They’re just... having a very intense hug, kid. Don’t worry about it.”

As the honeymoon continues, Sukuna’s smirk widens. “So, they destroy an entire bed and then play chess for the rest of their honeymoon? Sounds like a blast. Who needs a beach when you can have a game of chess in a room full of broken furniture?”

When Bella starts experiencing strange symptoms and realizes she’s pregnant, Sukuna leans back, incredulous. “Oh, come on. She gets pregnant from one night with a vampire? That’s some fast-acting biology. It’s like the moment they decided to ‘get busy,’ her uterus went into overdrive.”

Yuji looks confused. “How can she be having a baby so soon?”

You ruffle his hair, trying to keep it light. “It’s just a movie, Yuji. Things happen fast.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “Fast? More like implausibly fast. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave birth the next day”

As Bella’s pregnancy progresses and her condition worsens, Sukuna’s disbelief turns into frustration. “This is just irresponsible. Who in their right mind thinks having a vampire baby is a good idea? It’s like playing Russian roulette with your own body.”

When Bella’s back breaks during childbirth, Sukuna laughs out loud. “Well, that’s what you get for wanting a vampire baby. A back snapped like a breadstick”

Yuji winces at the scene. “Is she okay?”

You try to soothe him. “She will be, Yuji. It’s just really dramatic.”

As Jacob’s imprinting on Renesmee unfolds, Sukuna’s face contorts with disbelief. “This is so messed up. Seriously?”

He continues, incredulous. “So, let me get this straight: he’s been in love with Bella this whole time, but now he’s suddenly in love with her newborn daughter? That’s just creepy. It’s like a bad Twilight Zone episode. One minute he’s hot for Bella, and the next he’s googly-eyed over a baby. What kind of messed-up interfamily love triangle is this?”

Yuji looks puzzled. “What’s imprinting?”

Sukuna sighs, trying to find a way to explain it. “It’s like... finding your soulmate. But in this case, it’s really weird because he’s a grown man and she’s a baby. It’s like telling a toddler, ‘Hey, you’re my soulmate,’ and then waiting for her to grow up. It’s just... wrong on so many levels.”

You nod, adding, “It means he’ll always protect her and be there for her, but yeah, it’s a bit strange.”

Sukuna shakes his head. “Strange? It’s beyond strange. It’s downright disturbing. This whole imprinting thing is like a loophole in the storyline, a convenient way to make Jacob’s character relevant without actually giving him any real development.”

As the scenes shift to Bella’s transformation into a vampire, Sukuna’s tone softens slightly, though his sarcasm remains. “Well, at least she looks hot now. Can’t deny that. But the whole process? It’s still a freak show. Who knew becoming a vampire involved so much screaming and blood?”

But when Renesmee appears, he’s back to his critical self. “Why does the baby look so wrong? That’s just creepy.”

He leans closer to the screen, scrutinizing the CGI baby. “Seriously, they couldn’t find a real baby for this? It looks like a haunted doll."

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Come on, Kuna, it’s not that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” he insists. “Look at her! She’s like something out of a horror movie. I half expect her head to spin around.”

Yuji, engrossed in the movie, glances up at Sukuna. “I think she’s kinda cute.”

Sukuna smirks, shaking his head. “Kid, you need to get your eyes checked. That baby’s giving me the creeps.”

The movie continues, and every time Renesmee is on screen, Sukuna has something to say. “Why does she keep staring like that? It’s unsettling. And those eyes! They’re way too big for her head.”

He mimics the baby’s expression, wide-eyed and stiff, making you and Yuji burst into laughter.

When Jacob explains the imprinting to Bella and Edward, Sukuna is incredulous. “So let me get this straight: he’s in love with the creepy baby now? This just keeps getting weirder.”

As Renesmee ages rapidly, Sukuna keeps up his commentary. “Great, now she’s a creepy toddler. And why does she look like she’s staring into your soul? Every time she looks at the camera, I half expect her to say, ‘I see dead people.’”

You can’t help but laugh at his relentless criticism. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

“Nope,” he replies with a grin. “They had a chance to make a normal-looking baby, and they blew it. I’m gonna keep pointing it out.”

As the movie progresses, Renesmee continues to grow at an accelerated rate. Sukuna's eyes are glued to the screen, his critical gaze unwavering.

“Is it just me, or is she ageing faster than a vampire should be allowed to? This kid is like a living, creepy time-lapse,” Sukuna remarks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Yuji, still captivated by the movie, looks up at Sukuna. “But she’s supposed to be special, right?”

Sukuna snorts. “Special? More like a special effects nightmare. Look at her—she’s gone from baby to child in what, a week? I’ve seen horror movies with more believable ageing.”

The scene shifts to Renesmee as a child, interacting with the rest of the Cullen family. Sukuna shakes his head in disbelief. “And now she’s a kid who looks like she’s seen some things. Those eyes are still too big for her head. It’s like they didn’t even try to make her look normal.”

When Renesmee starts using her powers to show people her thoughts, Sukuna’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh great, now she’s a mind-reading horror child. Because that’s exactly what this movie needed—more creepy abilities.”

You chuckle, trying to keep your laughter under control. “You’re really on a roll tonight, Kuna.”

He smirks, leaning back on the couch. “I can’t help it, babe. This whole thing is a mess. They should have just let her be a normal baby. But no, they had to go for the uncanny valley effect.”

As the movie progresses, the scene shifts to a wintery landscape where Renesmee is shown jumping into the air to catch snowflakes. Sukuna's critical gaze narrows even further.

“Oh, great. Now she’s a creepy ballerina vampire,” he mutters. “Seriously, what’s with this kid? She’s like a supernatural circus act.”

Yuji, still captivated, looks up at Sukuna with wide eyes. “But she’s having fun, Suku! Look at her go!”

Sukuna snorts. “Having fun? She’s floating in the air like she’s part ghost. If I saw that in real life, I’d call an exorcist.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Come on, Kuna, she’s just catching snowflakes.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “Catching snowflakes? She’s defying gravity! Look at her. No one else seems to find this odd?”

As Renesmee gracefully lands back on the ground and smiles at Bella, Sukuna sighs dramatically. “Of course, she just smiles and acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No big deal, just our super creepy child playing in the snow.”

Yuji giggles. “I think it’s cool! I wish I could do that.”

Sukuna ruffles Yuji’s hair. “Trust me, kid, you’re better off being normal. Less chance of creeping people out. I'd have to disown you if you started doing freaky shit like that around me and Y/N/N”

When Renesmee looks at Jacob and they share a moment, Sukuna can’t help but roll his eyes. “Oh great, more of this weird bond thing. It’s like they’re trying to make everything as uncomfortable as possible.”

You chuckle, leaning into Sukuna. “You’re really having a hard time with this, huh?”

He smirks, wrapping an arm around you. “Just calling it like I see it, babe. This whole movie is like a bad dream you can’t wake up from.”

The scene shifts to Charlie Swan, Bella’s father, visiting the Cullens. Renesmee is playing nearby, looking much older than the last time he saw her. Sukuna’s jaw drops.

“Wait, hold on,” he says, incredulous. “Does Charlie not realize his granddaughter was a baby like two months ago? How is he not questioning this?”

Yuji looks puzzled. “Maybe they told him she grows fast?”

Sukuna shakes his head. “Growing fast is one thing, but this kid’s ageing like she’s on steroids on crack. The girl's on crack steroids. How can he just accept this without freaking out?”

Charlie awkwardly interacts with Renesmee, clearly confused but not pressing the issue. Sukuna throws his hands up in exasperation. “Unbelievable. This guy is the worst cop ever. He can’t see what’s right in front of him!”

You laugh, nudging Sukuna playfully. “Maybe he’s just trying to be supportive.”

“Supportive? He’s in denial!” Sukuna retorts. “If my kid came home with a baby that turned into a pre-teen in two months, I’d be asking all kinds of questions.”

Charlie’s scene ends, and Sukuna leans back, shaking his head. “They must have him under some kind of mind control. That’s the only explanation. Or he is unbelievably stupid and definitely should lose his job"

The scene shifts to the Cullens gathering allies from various vampire clans around the world, preparing for the inevitable confrontation with the Volturi. Sukuna's expression is a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Look at this. It’s like a vampire United Nations,” Sukuna quips, his eyes glued to the screen as the different vampire clans make their dramatic entrances.

Yuji looks up, eyes wide. “They’re all here to help?”

Sukuna snorts. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘epic battle’ like a bunch of random vampires with barely any backstory. Who are these people? They just show up and we’re supposed to care about them?”

As the Denali coven arrives, Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “So these guys are supposed to be their long-lost cousins or something? And why do they all look like they stepped out of a fashion magazine?”

The Irish coven’s introduction makes Sukuna chuckle. “Oh great, now we’ve got stereotypical Irish vampires. What’s next, a leprechaun with fangs?”

You laugh, nudging Sukuna. “Come on, Kuna, they’re just trying to show the diversity of the vampire world.”

He rolls his eyes. “Diversity? This is more like a bad casting call. And what’s with the vampire who can control the elements? Are we watching Twilight or Avatar: The Last Airbender?”

When the Amazonian vampires make their appearance, Sukuna shakes his head. “Seriously? They brought in jungle vampires? This is getting out of hand.”

As the Cullens explain their strategy to their new allies, Sukuna can’t help but comment on the absurdity. “So their grand plan is to stand around and look intimidating? Brilliant strategy. I’m sure the Volturi are shaking in their boots.”

When the Romanians arrive, Sukuna’s eyebrows shoot up again. “Oh, fantastic. Now we’ve got Transylvanian clichés. Where’s Dracula when you need him?”

Yuji giggles at Sukuna’s relentless commentary. “They’re all here to help, Suku. It’s a good thing, right?”

Sukuna ruffles Yuji’s hair, smirking. “Sure, kid. If you consider a bunch of random, underdeveloped characters showing up at the last minute a good thing.”

The scene continues with the Cullens strategizing with their allies, and Sukuna can’t help but shake his head. “This looks like a bad game of Vampire Risk. They’re all standing around like they’re about to take over the world, but half of them can barely keep a straight face.”

As the preparations for the battle continue, Sukuna’s criticism remains sharp. “They’ve got all these powerful allies, but their plan hinges on Bella’s mind-shield? That’s like putting all your money on a horse that’s never raced before.”

You chuckle, leaning into Sukuna. “It’s just a movie, Kuna. Suspend your disbelief a little.”

He grins, wrapping an arm around you. “For you, babe, maybe. But I’m still going to call out the ridiculous parts.”

As the final battle approaches and the tension builds, Sukuna’s commentary becomes more pointed. “This whole series has been building up to this moment, and I still don’t understand half of these characters. They’re like extras in a high school play.”

Yuji is heartbroken when Carlisle, Jasper and the wolves die. You hold him close, trying to comfort him. Sukuna, on the other hand, is visibly shocked by the plot twist with Alice’s vision. “Well, didn’t see that coming,” he mutters, somewhat impressed.

After the revelation that the battle was a vision, Sukuna can't help but voice his thoughts. “So, none of this is real? This whole battle is just one big ‘what if’ scenario? What a cop-out.” As the movie continues and Nahuel, the half-vampire, half-human child, makes his entrance, Sukuna’s disbelief is evident.

“Oh, look, another surprise twist,” Sukuna mutters, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just what we needed—another hybrid kid to magically solve all their problems.”

Yuji, still recovering from the emotional rollercoaster, looks up at Sukuna. “Is he like Renesmee?”

Sukuna snorts. “Apparently. But instead of clarifying things, it just makes it more ridiculous. Now we have hybrid kids running around too. It’s like they’re trying to cover every possible supernatural angle.”

When Nahuel starts explaining his origins and how he’s been living for over a century, Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Great, now we have a 150-year-old man trapped in a teenager’s body. This just keeps getting better.”

You chuckle, nudging Sukuna playfully. “Come on, Kuna, give the guy a break.”

Sukuna smirks. “A break? This whole thing is a mess. They’re just throwing in plot twists to keep it interesting. It’s like they couldn’t figure out how to end it, so they just kept adding more characters.”

Nahuel’s story about his mother dying in childbirth catches Sukuna’s attention, but not in a positive way. “So, his mother dies giving birth to him, and he’s been wandering the world ever since? What a conveniently tragic backstory. This guy’s existence is just one big plot device.”

Yuji looks puzzled. “But doesn’t he prove that Renesmee will be okay?”

Sukuna sighs. “Sure, kid. He’s here to make everyone feel better about the creepy baby growing up too fast. It’s like they needed someone to vouch for her so the Volturi wouldn’t freak out.”

As the Cullens and their allies celebrate their victory and the end of the conflict, Sukuna’s frustration remains palpable. “So, they gather all these vampires, have this huge build-up, and then it’s all resolved because of one guy showing up and saying, ‘Hey, everything’s cool’? What a letdown.”

You laugh, resting your head on Sukuna’s shoulder. “At least it’s over, right?”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Yeah, thank god for that. But I’m still mad about how easily they wrapped everything up. It’s like the writers just wanted to finish and move on.”

The final scenes show the Cullens returning to their peaceful lives, and Sukuna can’t help but comment. “So, everything goes back to normal? No consequences, no follow-up on the Volturi? They just walk away, and everyone lives happily ever after?”

You nod, smiling. “That’s how it goes in these stories, Kuna. Just accept it.”

Sukuna smirks. “Accept it? Sure. But I’m not letting them off the hook for this weak ending. They had a chance to do something interesting, and they blew it.”

As the credits roll, Yuji’s excitement returns. “That was awesome! Can we watch it again tomorrow?”

“Maybe another day,” you laugh, ruffling his hair again. “It’s late, and you need to get to bed.”

As you all head off to bed, Sukuna wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “You know, babe, those movies were terrible,” he says with a smirk, “but I had fun watching them with you.”

You smile up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I had fun too, Kuna. Thanks for sticking it out with us.”

He chuckles, leading you to your room. “Anything for you, baby. Even if it means enduring five movies of sparkly vampires and dramatic wolves.”

As you lie in bed, you hear Sukuna’s voice one last time before sleep takes you. “I still can’t believe that goth vampire mafia. And that baby...”

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, knowing that even through all his complaints, Sukuna stayed by your side, sharing every laugh and every groan.

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