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motherodysseus · 2 years ago

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Ptolemaea - Chapter 1

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Original Stark Female Character (Alysanne Stark)

Warnings: Violence, language, sexual innuendo, length of text (lol)

Summary: Lady Alys remains behind as her brother rallies support from the lords of the North. On her nameday, a tourney for her hand ensues, one she intends to win. But danger is around every corner. Will she survive long enough to unite with her Velaryon cousins?

Author's note: Sorry this took so long. Turns out, editing your own work is liable to engender insanity!!! This one is a bit of doozy in length (I swear, I cut plenty), but hey, there was a lot to set up! Could I have split it into two chapters? Maybe. But where's the fun in that!? Besides, we have a Rogue Prince to meet. I hope you enjoy, and, as always, your comments, thoughts and feedback are most welcome!

“My lady, we must hurry. Your Uncle will be cross if he finds you’ve been away too long. We were only supposed to take a ride, after all.”

Alys rolls her eyes. Mikken Reed is a kind boy, if not a bit irksome. House Stark’s newest ward, the future heir of Greywater Watch is young, only having nine summers on him, and tiny yet; he does not even clear her chest. This has not deterred the boy from latching onto her skirts, thinking himself her gallant knight and protector. Alys is quite capable of protecting herself, but she is happy to indulge him. Usually. Here in her meadow, however, the real world and all its accompanying burdens have no place. This makes his reminder most unwelcome.

Found in the heart of the Wolfswood, the glade is dotted with wildflowers and the occasional oak and rowan tree. A brook cuts through like a vein, water trickling over the stones and strewn branches from trees long since fallen and rotted away. The sweet perfume of honeysuckles and primroses, and the dew that coats them each morn, are Alys’s favorite scent, second only to the winter rose.

Alys was but eight summers when she discovered this place, after running away from her lessons with Muña. At the time, she had no interest in learning to sew, or to dance, or to play the harp, or to manage a household. She’d much prefer to be in the training yard with her brother – a place she was barred from, on the unfortunate account of her being a girl.

Alys was never one to care for rules, especially ones that made little sense. While the boys would practice at swordplay with Vayon Cassel, master-at-arms, she would sneak into the armory to fetch a bow, and teach herself how to shoot. Each time she was caught, she would be brought before her father. She’d beg and plead with him, but the yard was no place for a lady, he said, sending her from his solar back along to her mother, with red knuckles and a sore heart.

Indignant and embittered, Alys decided to prove herself. She stole a bow and quiver full of arrows, had Nan the cook make her a picnic, saddled her pony Wynafryd – a beautiful black courser gifted to her by her Uncle Corlys – and galloped straight out of the safety of the Keep’s walls.

Once she found this place, she built a shelter from fallen branches she found along the forest line, weaved a crown of wildflowers and named herself Queen of the Wolfswood. She held a coronation feast for one, gorging herself on the treats Nan provided.

It took her parents a night and day to find her. When the Lord and Lady Stark finally laid eyes upon their wayward daughter, they were shocked to find the little kingdom she had created.

“There is no denying it, my lord husband,” Valaena said, dropping down from her horse and scooping Alys into her arms, hugging her close as she brushed brambles from her dress. “Your daughter has the wolf’s blood in her. Or perhaps this is not our daughter at all; rather, some little fae creature we have on her hands. Tell me, riñitsos, are you a changeling or mine own daughter?”

“I’m no changeling, Muña. I am your daughter, the Queen of the Wolfswood! See?” Alys asked, pointing to her crown, slightly wilted and askew, tangled in her mass of dark curls from a night spent abed the soft grass. Valaena laughed again, peppering her face with kisses.

Rickon dismounted so that he could join his wife and daughter in a much-needed embrace; the search having frayed his nerves. “Aye, that you are, Your Grace. But a Queen cannot simply disappear without informing her loyal subjects.” Alys scrunched her face, turning from her father to hide in the crook of her mother’s neck.

Rickon brushed the back of her head softly, reaching in between mother and daughter to cup her cheeks and bring her eyes back to his. “You had your mother and I worried sick, Alysanne. You must swear to me never to run off like this again.”

Alys’s lips quivered, but she did not back down. “I will swear it, but only if you swear you will allow me to train, Papa. Else, I shall be forced to make my home out here, and you shan’t look upon me again.”

Rickon locked eyes with Valaena over Alys’s head. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You drive a hard bargain, little wolf. After you serve your punishment, I’ll see what I can do.”

Alys, true to her word, served her punishment without complaint. She swore a full commitment to her lessons with both mother and Maester, and suffered through two moon turns without riding or sweets, nor playing with Holly, her closest companion. Not that Holly was interested, for she was quite cross that Alys would dare to run off without bringing her along. Nothing could mend the rift until Alys agreed to make a blood oath, swearing to never again adventure without her. The scar is still visible on her palm, and it is one she cherishes. By sharing blood, they were made sisters. Alys, though she loved her brothers dearly, had always wanted a sister.

Her father, true to his own word, allowed her to train – though she never was welcome in the training yard. He would make time each week to take Alys and Holly out to the meadow. He taught them how to carve their own bows and string them, and trained the two how to shoot himself. When their skills surpassed his own knowledge, he sent for an archery instructor from across the Narrow Sea, swearing him to secrecy so the girls could continue to learn.

Shaking herself from her reveries, she looks back to the boy. “Oh, a pox on my uncle, Mikken! And what have I told you? You need not call me ‘my lady’ or ‘Lady Alys’ outside the Keep. Here, I am simply Alys.” She turns to face her fiery-haired friend. “Now, Holly, what say you? One more round of roving marks?”

“I say the little lord makes a point. No time left for all that – let’s aim once more for the target and then make our way back to the Keep.”

“Fine,” Alys huffs. “First one to hit the center gets their pick of dessert from the kitchens?”

“Challenge accepted, your Ladyship,” she says, leaning in with an exaggerated bow.

Holly herself never much cared for the pageantry of lords and titles, preferring to poke fun whenever she could. They are not her way, for she was born North-of-the-Wall to a wildling mother. When Holly’s mother was put to the sword, the Lady Valaena protected the girl, insisting she join her daughter’s household. Holly never forgot the kindness, even if she often forgot herself in the face of nobility and their “silly Southern customs.”

Bennard thought Holly a bad influence, attempting to separate them when he took over the regency of Winterfell. But the Lady Valaena stood firm. “Woe be to any man who would tear apart sisters,” she said, “whether they be borne or made.”

Bastard, thinks Alys, Should he ever try to take her from me, I’ll show him what a Lady is truly made of.

The girls nock their arrows, aiming for the mounds. “Mikken, count us down,” Alys insists.

“But, my lady, we will get in trouble if– ”

“‘Tis not an invitation to argue, Mikken! And what did I say about titles? Now, if you would please count us down.”

“Yes, my lady – I mean, Lady Alys. I mean, Alys!” Mikken squeaks, as his hands twist the reins of their horses. Poor lad. I am too harsh. It is not fair to unleash my nerves upon him.

“Loose your arrows on one! Three, two…”

Alys takes a breath, and eye falling shut as she narrows on the target.

“One!” Mikken shouts. Alys has already released her quiver, as has Holly; neither girl is above a bit of treachery when they compete against the other. Their arrows whistle through the air. Alys squints, holding a hand over her brow to shield herself from the sun’s glare, attempting to follow their trajectory. She loses sight for but a moment, until she hears the telltale thwap-thwap.

“I cannot tell from here, it’s too far to see clear, and the arrows too close to call a winner,” Holly says. “Should we send your little squire to check?”

Alys considers it, but the sun is nearing its midpoint; they are cutting it close. “Nay, I think he has suffered enough this morn. Let us make our way back. You may choose the dessert; I care not.”

“You care not because you know Nan is already preparing all your favorite sweets,” Holly says, bumping her shoulder. “Oh to be a Stark girl on her name day!” She declares, twirling about in some mockery of a dance, pulling Alys along with her.

“Almost name day!” Alys says, giggling as she joins in. She turns and twirls with head upturned to the sun, following the tune of the brook behind her and the magpies overhead. There is a bite in the air, despite the fact that it is the twentieth day of the sixth moon of the year. Under the warmth of the sun, however, she can close her eyes and pretend that summer will last forever. Or, for a little while longer, at least.

As she steadies, reality finally forces itself upon this once inviolable space. Her stomach twists, mood blackening instantly. If all does not go to plan, this could be my final name day as the ‘Stark girl.’ Steeling herself, Alys puts on a smile, giving Holly a little shove as she makes her way back to the tree line.

She approaches Mikken. Up close, she can mark the strain her words put upon him in his creased brow and his slim shoulders that now rest firmly next to his ears.

She bends down to meet him. “Mikken, I owe you an apology for the way I spoke. It was unbecoming and cruel; I’m sorry for it. I know that you were only trying to look out for me.”

His bottom lip juts out, eyes fixed firmly on his boots. Alys places a hand to his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “You know, it takes a brave man to stand up to those in power when he knows they are in the wrong. You will make a fine knight one day, and an even better Lord. It is an honor I do not take lightly, to watch you grow into both.”

“Do you truly mean it?” he whispers.

“I am not in the habit of saying things I do not mean, Mikken,” Alys whispers back conspiratorially. At this, he cracks a smile. “There he is,” Alys says, knocking his chin so that she can see his eyes. “Now, what say you to a little race back to Hunter’s Gate? Whoever makes it through first, can have the first bite of sweets. I heard a rumor that there will be apple tarts and stewed plums.”

Mikken brightens at this, and rushes to untie the horses.

“You are good with him, Alys. Your mother would be proud,” says Holly, who has snuck up to her side. Gods, she’s silent as a wraith when she wants to be.

“Thank you for saying so. Though, I wonder if she would be proud of the spectacle I shall be forced to make of myself tomorrow,” she muses, turning back toward the clearing.

Holly grabs her hand, the scars upon their palms brought together. It is a gesture of comfort, and she relishes in it. She knows me better than I know myself, as all sisters do. “Aye Alys, she would be proud, and you know it. These are nerves talking, not reason.”

“Perhaps,” is all Alys could muster.

Holly studies her closely, but decides not to push. A first. She takes Alys’s bow from her, and goes to hide it in the brush alongside her own. Task complete, she turns back to her friend. “Come, if you think I shall let you win this race because you’ve decided to mope, you’re sorely mistaken.”

This jab is enough to make Alys smile. “Pray tell, Holly – when have you ever let me win?”

Holly ponders for a moment. “I’m certain there was a time or two, but I can’t recall them just now. Now, will you mount or will you give me a head start?” she asks, as she takes her palfrey’s reins from Mikken.

“Take it, Holly, for you shall need it anyhow!” Alys crows. Holly laughs as she mounts her horse, whom she named – Gods, of all things – Squirrel. Alys did attempt to reason with her, pointing out the absurdity of such a name, but Holly would not be moved. “'Tis is a funny name for him, but it fits. Squirrels are quick and agile. Is he not those things, too?”

Alys takes one last look upon her meadow. She cannot help but feel that today is an ending of sorts. She sighs, turning to Mikken. He hands her riding gloves over. Newly made for her, they are black as night, as is the rest of her new wardrobe. It may be her name day tomorrow, but she is still deep in mourning.

Mikken is bursting with energy. He bounces on the balls of his feet, anxious to join the race. It is his eagerness that deals a final blow to Alys’s melancholy. “Come, I’ll help you mount.”

She approaches Wynafryd, now as tall as any Lord’s war horse. Folding her hands together, she bends down to give him a boost. He scrambles into the saddle as Alys places a foot in the stirrup, launching herself behind him. She bundles Mikken tightly to her front, reaching around him for the reins.

“Are you settled, Mikken? We have ground to make up, it seems.”

“Aye, Lady Alys! Make haste!”

She chuckles. My, is he not an imperious little lordling when competition is afoot. She gives Wynafryd a gentle kick, and clucks at her. “Onward, girl!” They race through the wood, Mikken whooping all the way.

As soon as Hunter’s Gate comes into view, Alys spots Holly. That hair could be seen miles away, kissed by fire as it is. She leans in, forcing Mikken to do the same. “Come on, girl!” she shouts as she nudges the horse into a gallop, pushing her full tilt towards the gate.

It is not long before they overtake her, barreling through the gate a few yards before she does. Really, it is not fair, even with the extra weight. Squirrel may be quick but he is no match for Wynafryd, in size or speed. Mikken’s cheer is contagious. Alys’s cheeks hurt from grinning, flushed as they are from activity. She slows Wynafryd to a trot, making her way past the kennels and kitchen, around the Library Tower, and toward the stables.

She leads her horse into the paddock, as the stable boys rush in to aid her dismount. She passes Mikken down first, before swinging her leg over and leaping to the ground. Holly and Squirrel enter the paddock soon after.

“It was a close race, Alys. One of these days, Squirrel will overtake Wynafryd, I’m certain of it.”

“Aye, and the pigs will sprout wings and take off in flight,” Alys snorts.

Mikken interrupts them. “May we go to the kitchens now, Lady Alys?”

Alys rolls her eyes, but her smile does not abate. “Aye, Mikken, we may. Run along ahead, and tell Nan I’ve sent you. You were first through the gate, which means the first sweet is yours.” The boy does not need to be told twice; quick as a rabbit, he runs back toward the kitchens.

“It seems you’ve had an eventful morning, my lady.” Alys turns to see Maester Lymon leaning against the paddock fence, green eyes twinkling. A genial old man, Lymon is like another father to her. He is a grounding presence in her life, always encouraging her learning and supporting her throughout any trial. The Citadel may not allow women into their ranks, but her Maester does not share their qualms about the fairer sex.

“That I have, Maester. How did you know I was gone?”

His tone is firm, but his eyes remain warm. “I didn’t, that is until I saw you flying through the gate from my solar; like a bat from the seven hells, no less.”

Alys pulls her gloves from her hands, and makes her way to him. “I had no choice – Mikken would have been aggrieved if we had not won the race. Apple tarts were on the line, so he cannot be blamed for it.”

Lymon laughs. “No, I suppose he can’t. You, however, can. We still have much to discuss ahead of our guests’ arrival. I’ve come to escort you to the Library so that we may talk logistics. Perhaps the boy will be kind enough to save you some sweets for when we are finished?”

“I think it unlikely,” she grumbles. My respite is at its end, it seems. “Holly, go on ahead to the kitchens without me. And do try to ensure Mikken does not take advantage of Nan’s good nature to eat his weight in sweets – Vayon will be cross with me if I’ve slowed down his newest recruit.”

“Aye, I can try, but I’ll make no promise of it,” Holly says, handing Squirrel’s reins to the stable boy and making a quick escape. She doesn't mind the Maester, but she was never one for lessons. “I’ll learn by doing, not by reading,” she said once, never returning to be taught thereafter.

Alys and Lymon walk in an amiable silence as she takes in the din of the grounds. Nearing noon, Winterfell is alive with activity, its inhabitants bustling about in preparation for their incoming guests. The stable boys are bucking hay, and burly men roll barrels of ale toward the Great Hall. Maids flitter about, bringing fresh linens and candles to the Guest House, gossiping all the way.

It is Lymon who breaks their silence. “I’ll not ask where you were, my lady, but may I make the rather safe assumption that you were preparing for tomorrow’s contest?”

“Aye, you may,” she concedes.

“And did you consider the risks, should you have been caught?”

“Aye, I did.” She pauses, before continuing in a hushed tone. “I found the necessity outweighed the risks. Besides, Bennard has been quite occupied these last few days, preparing to welcome my future husband, ‘whomever he may be,” she scoffs. “As if we are all unaware of his preference.”

Lymon hums in agreement. “We shall speak more on it in the Library.” Alys nods– it would not do to have one of Bennard’s lickspittles overhear. He banned her several summers ago from training, after all. If he were to be made aware of my rebellion, especially before the contest; well, it simply would not do.

The pair climb the steps outside the tower. She allows Lymon to go first so that she may keep an eye on him. Now reaching an age where stairs become a struggle, he takes them slowly, grumbling as his bones creak. I worry for him. If I manage to succeed tomorrow, it would be best to take our lessons in the Maester’s Turret, or mayhaps the Glass Gardens; the warmth would be better on his joints.

They arrive at the top, entering into the cavernous space which holds a thousand and one tomes, covering every inch of the rounded walls. She runs her fingers over the weathered spines, inhaling deep. The smell of leather, old parchment and dust soothes her.

The Maester also shares her love of this place, if not for the sheer delight in the library’s collection, then for the privacy it provides. No one enters this tower but the two of them. Bennard and his degenerate sons are far from learned, having preferred the training yard as most Northern second sons – and sons of second sons – seem to. It is one of the only places within Winterfell in which they may speak freely.

Lymon does not beat around the brush. “‘Tis a dangerous game you play, my lady. I worry for you. With your brother not yet returned from Last Hearth, there is no one here who may protect you, should you fail.”

“Come now, Maester – have you such little faith in your favorite pupil?” she asks, attempting a jape. It falls flat. Lymon grunts as he sits at the table, chains clinking. He motions her to join him before unfurling a parchment that holds a map of the North. He reaches into the wide sleeves of his robe, pulling out game pieces. Nay, not game pieces – they are direwolves.

“Let us review again, Lady Alys. We’ve secured allegiances for your brother’s cause from Houses Reed, Karstark, Manderly, Mormont, the Flint’s of Widow’s Watch, Hornwood, Cerwyn and Forrester,” he states, positioning a direwolf piece over each of the respective holdfasts. “I think we can assume he will succeed with House Umber, for they have always answered the call.” He places a direwolf over Last Hearth before moving back to his sleeve, this time pulling from them not direwolves, but sheep.

“But that leaves several houses in Bennard’s camp,” he says as he scatters the sheep across the map, “the strongest and most dangerous being House Bolton. Should Lord Bolton’s son Mervyn succeed in the tournament tomorrow, it would not be a shock if your Uncle were to force you to marry him that very night, to ensure their allegiance to his cause.”

Alys huffs. “First – it is simply inconceivable that I would marry a man named Mervyn. Besides, Mervyn will not succeed. I am sure he is fine with a bow, but I am better. Second – the other houses attending who are sworn to us would not stand for it.” Her voice is confident, but the direction of this conversation is beginning to unnerve her.

“‘The houses will not have a choice in the matter,” Lymon hisses. “Your brother took his most loyal men with him to ‘settle disputes amongst the great houses.’ Bennard is not stupid, he knows that Cregan is rallying support. Without the men, or your brother to lead them, they will not interfere. You also risk insulting those who have sworn fealty, should you beat their sons in this contest. The lords are loyal, but they are also prideful. If they take offense, Bennard will fan the flames.”

Alys rubs her hands down her face, groaning. “That is unfair! It is not as if I asked for any of this!” She regrets the childish words, for they incense the Maester instantly.

“You did ask for this, Alys! You did!” His palm slams against the table, several pieces tumbling.

“Maester –”

“No, do not deny it! I know your hand was forced, Alys. To attempt to announce an unagreed-upon betrothal at your lady mother’s funeral was, is, a travesty. But you stood up in front of Gods and men at that feast, and offered your hand to whichever lord could best you on the archery field. Rather than practice logic, as I have taught, or patience, as your lady mother taught, you reacted with your emotions. You asked for this.”

Tears prick her eyes. How is it that a proper scolding can make me feel as if I am not but a tall child? Lymon is not one to raise his voice, and it pains her to have aggrieved him so. It also pains her that he is right.

“I apologize, my lady,” he mutters. “I did not mean to shout.”

Alys waves him off. “‘Twas not undeserved.”

She twists her mother’s signet ring, staring at the carving of her entwined sigils. I cannot tell if this grounds me, or if it upsets me. I wish she were here with me, she would know what to do. “So what you are telling me is in either scenario – win or lose – we still lose. Do I have that correct?”

“Yes, that’s the long and short of it,” Lymon sighs.

Alys swallows. “Well, fuck.”

The curse shocks them both, for Alys seldom uses profanity. Lymon snorts, and the sound alone is enough to send her into a fit of giggles. They tumble together headlong into hysterics. As soon as one wrests control back over their senses, they make eye contact and the fit begins anew. It only ends when they are firmly out of breath, sides pinching and tears streaming.

“Is there not a chance that they might be impressed by me?” Alys asks, wiping her eyes and righting herself. “For winning back mine own hand, which was already supposed to be mine by rights?” In truth, she knows the answer, but is desperate enough to ask.

“I suppose a small one,” Lymon considers. “Several houses have, or have had, ladies lead them. And most still recognize your father’s word as, if not law, then bond. But – whether we agree with them or not – most still see a lady’s place as in the home. Wedded, producing heirs, keeping house; not besting boys in the art of war. Or, one of the arts, at least. We will have to count ourselves lucky if they perceive it as a rebellion against your uncle –”

“Which it is,” she counters.

“Yes, but it is as likely, if not more so, that they will take offense. We can’t presume that they will see it for what it truly is: a disavowal of Bennard’s unlawful hold on Winterfell,” he concludes.

Frustrated, Alys drops her head into her hands, fingers tugging at her hair. She wishes to growl, to scream, to rip at her hair or slam her fists on the table. To do anything to act upon her feelings. Instead, she takes a deep breath, then another, working to calm the tumult of her emotions. Perhaps one more breath would do.

She sets her hands back on the table, folding them together to keep from fidgeting. “Is there any other option?” she asks. “Any possibility of getting through this unscathed?” And unwed?

“There is one. You will not like it,” says the Maester, lips drawn thin.

“Tell me.”

“You run. No, do not interrupt,” he insists before Alys can speak. “I know you have been in near constant contact with the Lady Laena and your Aunt, the Princess Rhaenys, since your mother’s passing. I am the one who sends your letters, after all. I took it upon myself to send my own raven to your Uncle, Lord Corlys, making him aware of your plight – something you neglected to share with him, or any of them, it would seem.”

Aye, because until this moment, I assumed that I had this in hand. Arrogant, mayhaps, but it is the truth. Lymon must find her silence encouraging, for he pushes on.

“He and the Princess Rhaenys have agreed to take you in as their ward. It is not customary, I know, but they are one of the most powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms; soon to be made more so with the wedding of Laenor to the Princess of Dragonstone. They will have the security of the Crown behind them, and they can protect you until Cregan secures his seat. You would also be in a position to advocate for aid, if not from the Crown, then from your uncles. Docking the Velaryon fleet at White Harbor would be a show of force, and discourage the lords that back Bennard against a coup.”

Alys takes in Lymon’s counsel. My Maester has been hard at work, it seems. It is a clever, nay, brilliant plan. But it is an unacceptable one.

Alys sighs. “If I abandon my house, and my brother, what message does that send? And, should I run, what is to stop Bennard from closing the gates to us? A few hundred men can hold Winterfell, even if ten thousand set upon its gates. Winter is Coming; all he’ll need to do is wait us out.”

She looks upon the signet once more, brushing a finger over the seahorse. “As tempting as it is to call upon the Velaryons, to ask for interference from a Southern house – kin or no – feels tantamount to admitting Creg cannot hold the North. This would bolster Bennard’s claim that he is unfit, unready. My brother would not allow it, nor can I.”

“All fair rebuttals, my lady,” Lymon shifts forward in his seat, looking Alys straight on. “But, so caught up in his efforts to seize power, Bennard has not properly prepared this Keep for Winter – no stocking of grain, nor movement made to repair Winter Town for the inevitable influx of smallfolk. And the Night’s Watch continues to send disturbing reports that your Uncle has all but ignored. Wildlings are attempting to cross The Wall in droves. Those that succeed have been raiding villages in their push southward. They’re desperate, enough so to claim to have seen the Others, not that those wives' tales stop them from losing their heads.”

A chill courses down Alys’s spine. The Others are ghost stories meant to scare little children; a mere allegory for the coming of Winter itself. In any event, they have been gone for thousands of years, if they existed at all. ‘Tis a monstrous excuse to use to rape and pillage defenseless villages. But what if there is more to it? There may be no White Walkers, but it is possible the wildlings are running from, not toward, something. I shall have to ask Holly.

Lymon’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. “There is a chance, a high one I should think, that the vassals and smallfolk would turn on him. But to allow yourself to remain here is to risk not only your future, but your very life. If Bennard grows reckless, he will use you as a weapon against your brother. He has always seen you as a tool. And what is a weapon but a tool used to maim; to kill?”

Alys sucks in a breath – this cannot be happening. This is my home. This is my family’s home. And am I to leave as it is torn asunder? Am I to abandon my brother, my kin, my people when they need me most? Her mind is made up.

“And what if I am a weapon, Maester? After all, a knife cuts both ways.”

“Alys, I beseech you–”

Alys holds her hand up, halting his speech. “Maester, I am grateful for your counsel; even more so for the care you have shown me. But I will not leave my home and people to be picked over by carrions who call themselves wolves. I have made my bed, and I mean to lie in it. I will write to my Aunt and Uncle to thank them for their hospitality, but to inform them that it is unnecessary. For I am a Stark; I belong to the North.”

Lymon slumps in his seat. “As you say. But I urge you, do not hasten to send that raven. Wait until the tourney ends, at least.”

Alys nods as she rises from her seat. “I should go. I must prepare for the welcome feast, and Bennard expects me to greet my suitors.”

“Tread carefully, my lady,” says Lymon as she reaches the door. The double meaning is not lost on Alys. She quickly exits, turning the conversation over in her mind as she picks her way down the stone steps. Unsettled and disquieted as she is, she allows herself to be led by instinct. Rather than turn toward the Great Keep as she ought, her feet move forward, straight into the Godswood.

Alys sighs; it is as if a stone has been shed from her shoulders. In the forest, she is as free as a snow shrike, alive and unfettered; but it is here in the Godswood where she finds true peace.

The three acre grove is as old as the land itself. It smells of damp earth and pine, with only the sound of crunching needles underfoot and the caw of ravens for company. She walks deeper, trees rising and tangling around her as she makes her way through.

Her feet stop as they alight upon their chosen destination – the Heart Tree. The world quietens here, for this is where the Old Gods keep house. Its weeping eyes are ever watchful. Carved into the snow white bark by the Children of the Forest eons ago, many have sworn to feel them follow. This never unsettled Alys – those eyes make her feel seen, held, safe.

Alys keeps the Old Gods, just as every Stark has. Nameless and faceless, they are found in the twisting of roots, the bends of streams and sturdiness of stones; in the eyes of the Heart Tree, too.

Still in her riding leathers, the chill of the afternoon cuts through easily, but she scarcely feels it. Dropping to the grove’s floor, she makes her home where she always does — curling in between the roots of the tree, hand gripping the root. She closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the tree as she listens to the wind moving through its branches, blood-red leaves rustling as they reach for the heavens.

Time suspends itself as she begins to pray. She prays for her brother’s swift and safe journey home. For Holly and Mikken, for her Maester. For her Mother, Father, and brother since passed. For the health and safety of the Northern folk. For an easy Winter. For herself.

Once her prayers are complete, her mind drifts. She is so tired – tired of fighting, tired of fearing, tired of feeling too big to be small and too small to be big. She is simply tired. Her body seems to agree, for her eyes droop, and consciousness slips away.

She dreams, though it feels as real as breathing. In her dreams, she is a wolf. She runs through the forest on unsteady legs, as if she were but a pup. She dashes about, sniffing and climbing and bounding through to a clearing. It is her meadow; she recognizes it instantly. She turns just as another pup tackles her, nipping and wrestling and rolling in the grass. They frolic and play until a howl cuts through the Wolfswood.

Alys awakens with a jolt, disoriented. Something has hit her shin. No, not something, someone. Her cousin Benjen stares down upon her, eyes beady and black. His hair is greased back with animal fat, and he is dressed in such finery, it is as if he were a Lord’s heir himself. I suppose he and Bennard like to think so.

He knocks her shin with his boot once more. “Get up. You’re late. Again.”

She rolls her eyes. “How can I be late to mine own feast, Benjen?” He curses at this. Alys should know better than to bait him, but cannot help herself. “Now cousin, is this how you speak to a lady?”

He kicks her again, harder this time. “I see no lady, just an insolent brat. One who is finally getting what is coming to her. It’ll be a relief to be rid of you,” he sneers.

“So sure of yourself. Fortunately, so am I,” she fibs. He doesn’t need to know I’m out of my wits with nerves. “I’ll succeed, my brother will return, and you will be back to doing whatever it is the first son of a second son does. Shoveling horse dung, I assume.”

Alys moves to stand — too slowly, for Benjen grabs her by the elbow, squeezing tight as he lifts her. She knows immediately it will bruise, and stifles a whimper. Her cousin has always been a cruel, violent sort. As a child, he would bludgeon animals for sport; kicking cats, strangulating squirrels, beating dogs. Nothing was beneath him. The maester would often chase him from the rookery, for he would try to break a raven’s wings for no discernible reason other than to relish in their agony. Now a man grown, he’s moved from animals to men. And women, it seems. Creg’s absence emboldens him.

“You think so, cousin? You know, Father doesn’t pay close enough attention to you. ‘What time do I have for some halfbreed girl?,’ he says, ‘She is pretty, and she has our name. 'Tis all that matters.’”

This particular revelation does not surprise Alys. Bennard has never been above othering her or her mother for their Valyrian heritage.

“Father thinks you dotty, yes, but dutiful,” Benjen continues. “A silly little girl whose own father gave her too much freedom. He thinks he curbed that, and that you will go quietly to your marriage bed, even with the stunt you pulled. But I know better, Alys. I watch you running off with your little wildling to the woods, and whispering in corners with your Maester. You are dangerous, as are all girls who do not know their place. But soon, your husband will teach you. ’Tis a shame I am not part Valyrian; perhaps I’d have the honor of breaking you.”

Alys’s stomach drops. She attempts to extricate herself from his grasp, but his grip tightens as he pulls her in. Her nose crinkles as his hot, rancid breath covers her face.

“You know, I’ve spoken to Mervyn of your proclivity for impertinence. He assures me that the Boltons have a particular method for dealing with untamed wives.” He leans closer, whispering into her ear. “Considering the rumors of their continued predilection for flaying men alive, I can imagine it’s quite painful. Do you think he’d let me watch?”

Alys cannot seem to speak, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. How dare he speak like this in front of the Gods. She remembers the Maester’s scolding. Logic, patience – I must practice them.

“You and Mervyn seem quite confident in his ability with the bow,” she says, forcing her tone into one of casual indifference. “But I hear Lord Manderly’s sons are truly gifted. If the ravens are to be believed, I could be the next Lady of White Castle.” Alys does not know if this is true; it likely isn’t. She doesn’t even know the boys’ names, let alone if they have any skill with the bow. But it’s enough to get what she needs from Benjen.

“Aye, but Mervyn has the distinct advantage of training with the best archery master in the North. You may recall him; he was sent from Winterfell some years ago now, for conspiring to train you in secret.”

Benjen must see her blanch, for he begins to cackle. “Come along, cousin. You must make yourself pretty for your husband.” He shoves her forward as they make their way to the Great Keep.

Alys remains in a daze as she prepares for the feast. At once, she is bathed and dressed in a gown of black. It is made of velvet and soft as sin, with trumpet sleeves and a square neck trimmed with ermine and silver brocade. A direwolf belt is swung low around her hip. When she looks upon herself, all she can see is Muña’s lilac eyes boring into her. It is a haunting sight. I look as if I am attending another funeral rite; in a way, I may be.

Holly attempts to engage her in idle conversation while she plaits her hair, but it is no use. Alys twists her signet and stares off. She thinks more on her dream, wishing it were as real as it felt; how she longs to be as free as that pup.

So overcome, she does not notice Holly’s look of concern. “You do look lovely, Alys.”

“Thank you,” she mumbles. The girls lock eyes in the mirror, and Holly turns her from the vanity, taking her hands in hers.

“I wish you would tell me what is troubling you so. Is it the Maester? I’ve told you, too much thinking addles the mind.” Alys lets out a huff, and Holly smiles. “Tell me, what has you all worked up?”

She tells Holly everything — from the Maester’s concern and push to send her to her cousins in the south, to Benjen’s cruel behavior and the information he let slip. Holly listens intently as she unburdens herself.

“Aye, I can see now why you’re so troubled. This is quite the dung pile we’ve found ourselves in.”

“That I’ve found myself in, Holly.”

She holds up her scarred palm. “Thought you’d learn by now that we’re a package, you and I. Now, let’s talk it through, shall we?” Holly moves to the bed, patting beside her, encouraging Alys to join. “I think the Velaryons are a good fallback. If your mother could sail herself away from the south to Winterfell to marry your father, can we not go the other way? If it comes to that tomorrow, we'll leave.”

“I don’t know if we can, Holly. I’m needed here. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell; certain, Bennard does not count. I just – I don’t see how we can leave our home.” Alys’s lip quivers.

“If Bennard, his shite-for-brains sons — I’ll kill Benjen, by the way, and use his bones to pick my teeth — and his shite-for-brains Bolton cronies have their way, Winterfell won’t be home any longer,” Holly says, grabbing her hand. “You don’t belong at the Dreadfort, Alys. You have to think of yourself for once; what use are you dead or hidden away in some rotten Keep? And speaking on the Boltons, so what if he’s been training? So what if he’s good? You’ll be better.” Holly rubs her thumb over Alys’s knuckle to soothe her, just as Muña used to. It serves its purpose— Alys lets out a watery sign and hugs her friend close.

“Thank you,” she breathes as Holly rubs her back.

“Don’t thank me. I’m only telling you what you already know; you just got caught in your nerves again. Now, we should get to the feast,” Holly rises, and Alys moves to join her.

“Oh!” she exclaims. “ I forgot — Cregan left you a gift for your name day. He told me not to let you open it until the day of, but he’s not here, is he? It’s under your bed. Do with that information what you will.” Holly smiles beatifically, as she always does when causing trouble.

“Will you give me a moment then? I have a present to unwrap,” Alys grins. Holly nods, and closes the door behind her.

She drops flat to the carpet, with no thought or care for her dress, rummaging under her bed. Not once does she think to wait, for she hates surprises. Creg should never have trusted Holly to keep a secret from me, anyhow.

Her hand alights upon a box, and she slowly pulls it from its hiding place. It's large, and carved from rowan wood, with her House’s sigil burnt into the grain.

Alys gets up and places the box upon her bed. There is a note attached; one she is tempted to bypass entirely in her eagerness to open her present.��Patience is a virtue, I suppose. She sighs, plucking the note from its ribbon. She cracks her brother’s seal to see his scrawl, short and sweet.

Father told me I’d know when you were ready. Shoot straight.

Your brother,

Creg

She sucks in a breath. Father told me I’d know when you were ready. Hands quaking, she opens the box.

Inside is the most wonderful sight she’s ever seen – a beautiful bow and quiver set, made to size. The bow itself is bone white, carved from weirwood; Alys would recognize it anywhere. The arrows are carved from the same, with its feathers a startling crimson, akin to the leaves of the Heart Tree. But it is the arrowheads that truly dazzle, for they are not of any metal she has encountered. In truth, she only recognizes it from her lessons, for they are dragonbone. So sharp, they would draw blood at just a touch. She picks up the bow, testing the string's tension, the weight of it, how it feels in her hand. It’s perfect, it's perfect, it’s perfect.

She does not know how her father came into possession of such a treasure. Dragonbone is not an easy material to come by, nor an inexpensive one. And to have a perfectly carved weirwood bow – it is an honor he’d entrusted her with it. He believed in her, as did her brother; her mother, too. They may not be with her, but they are behind her, as they always have been. She does not know whether to laugh or cry. For the first time in an age, she feels hope; not just hope, but a sense of surety. Holding the faith of her family in her hands, Alys knows now what she must do, and how she can win.

She attends the feast, light as air. Nothing can spoil her good humor – not Benjen’s leer, nor her uncle’s very presence, which often serves to put her off her appetite. In truth, she is ravenous, nearly inhaling her roast pheasant and potatoes.

Soon, the minstrels begin to play. Alys takes care to dance with each Lord’s son. Lord Manderly’s boys, Jonnel and Joseth, prove exceptional dancers, even if they’re impossible to tell apart. She takes Mikken for a spin on the floor, much to the delight of everyone present. She even allows Mervyn a dance; when his hand moves too low to be proper, she steps on his feet with particular verve. Here’s hoping it cripples him, but I would settle for a lost nail.

When she retakes her seat at the head table, dessert is being served. There are apple tarts and stewed plums as promised; even the rare lemon cakes make the rounds. Once full, she sits back and watches the hall. Many of these men are allies and competitors in one; some are outright enemies. It matters not to Alys. She smiles at them all – for she is a wolf, and she does not fear sheep.

“It seems you have made some peace with your lot, niece,” Bennard slurs. A drunkard and a fool, may the Others take him.

“I was always at peace with my lot, Uncle,” Alys sniffs. “It was ensuring that I marry a man worthy of me that put me on edge over the prospect.”

“Well, you have a peculiar way of choosing that man. Not that you should be choosing at all, but your father will get his way, as he always does,” Bennard glowers as he sinks deeper into his cups. “Archery, pah! I know you think yourself a savant because Rickon indulged you as a child, but you will learn the truth of it tomorrow. The Boltons are a powerful family, and you will be lucky to join their house when Mervyn proves himself.”

Alys bites her tongue, once again remembering Lymon’s counsel. “As you say, Uncle.”

“As you say, Uncle,” Bennard mocks. “Do not be impertinent, especially in the face of my generosity. This feast and tourney cost me a pretty copper, as will your dowry. You ought to be grateful.”

Her blood boils, but she tamps it. Best to let it fester so that I may use it on the field tomorrow.

“Of course, Uncle. I am ever so grateful,” she says through her teeth.

Bennard hums again, too drunk to notice her ire. “Good. Now, to bed. You must look fresh-faced for your husband tomorrow. Men like their women pretty, after all. They also like them demure. I suppose I shall leave it to your husband to teach you the latter, if it’s not a lost cause already,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Begone from my sight, Alysanne.”

Alys squeezes her fists, nails cutting into her palms. Yet, she arises gracefully as her mother taught. She bids her Uncle and cousins a good night, though she does not mean it. Benjen runs his tongue over his teeth, like a bloodhound who caught the scent. Ignoring him, she beckons to Holly, and they leave the Great Hall.

She helps her undress in silence, untying her stays while Alys works at her plaits. With mere hours left until dawn, she knows she will sleep little. Holly offers to stay with her, but, as it might be her last night abed alone, she declines. I should enjoy the space while I am able. They bid one another good night, and Alys buries herself under the covers.

She tosses and turns for what feels like an age, until sleep finally claims her. Again, she dreams she is the wolf. She is warm, safe, cuddled against fur. She turns her head, to see the same grey pup that had tackled her, now fast asleep. Perhaps the mother is on the hunt. She gets up, stretching her tiny limbs, and makes her way from the den, dirt soft under her paws. She looks up at the moon, and howls.

As dawn breaks, Alys arises from her bed. Despite the chill, the rooms remain warm. Not for the first time is she thankful for the ingenuity of Bran the Builder. Piping water from the hot springs into the stones for certain has saved me a toe or two.

She dresses slowly in her leathers, somehow managing the stays herself. She then places her mother’s signet upon her smallest finger, and her archer’s ring upon her thumb. Once finished, she sits at her window, watching the sun rise.

Holly and the maids enter not long after, bringing tea and food to break fast. Alys forces down some bacon and bread, despite her scant appetite. She watches in the mirror as Holly tames her hair into an intricate five strand plait.

“Do you like it?” Holly asks.

“More than like it,” Alys says, marveling at her handiwork. “It almost looks as if it is a chain.”

“Aye, that was the aim. For you will not break this day, I know it in my heart.” Alys warms at her steadfastness and faith, sending a prayer of thanks to the Gods for bringing Holly into her life.

They sit in silence for a time, and she lets Holly inspect her new bow. “It is impossible to fail with a bow as nice as this. You can feel the love that was poured into its making, and yet there is something deadly in it. It will protect you, I think.”

“I think the same,” Alys says. Too soon, there is a knock upon the door, and she begins to shake. “You may enter.”

It is Mikken, and for this kindness she is thankful. Better than my cousin, that is for certain. “Lady Alys, it is time,” he says.

Alys takes a deep breath, and tries to calm her trembling hands. “So it is. Mikken, will you stay with Holly and me? I could use a lad like you to keep an eye on my back.”

Mikken sputters. “I would be honored, Lady Alys, but perhaps someone bigger would be best?”

“No, sweet boy, you misunderstand. I want someone whom I trust to stand with me, and that’s you. Consider it part of your training if you must, but in truth, I would just appreciate you there as my friend.”

She watches the blush creep up his cheeks. “I’d be honored, my lady!”

“Good, now, let us make haste. I would not put it past Bennard to start without me in an attempt to void my participation.” She takes her bow from Holly and straps the quiver to her back. Stealing one last look in the mirror, she’s pleased to find she cuts an unearthly and imposing figure. Let these men shiver when they see me.

Flanked by Holly, Mikken and several guards – sent by Bennard no doubt, to ensure I do not run – they march from the First Keep and through to the North Gate, outside which an archery field is constructed. At least a dozen mounds are set in a line. Alys breaks into a grin. Mere target practice. Not roving marks, nor splitting the wand. Bennard underestimated me. Good.

The archers check their names upon the roster, and Alys does the same. The Maester was right, many of the most noble houses of the North have sent a son to participate. She sends up another prayer before making her way to her designated marker. Mervyn is to her left, and a Manderly – Jonnel? Or is it Joseth? – to her right. And the line goes down, faces blending.

She walks the paces, gauging the distance between marker and target. She crouches down, and picks up grass and leaves, crumbling them to see which direction the wind blows. She heads back to her marker as she stretches her arms, ignoring the eyes upon her. Finally, the trumpets sound.

“Esteemed lords, ladies and guests! Thank you for your attendance on this day; the day my beloved niece turns seven and ten!” Bennard shouts from his spot on the dais. He has made himself and his sons little thrones to sit upon, above all the other lords and vassals. Alys rolls her eyes. They look foolish.

“The Lady Alysanne is now a woman grown, and it is time for her to choose her bridegroom. And so she has; the one who succeeds her in this tourney shall be the lucky man! Not too hard of a task for such strapping Northern men, I should think.” A cheer rises from the crowd, and she can feel the eyes of all the archer’s boring into her. Let them think they have me. “Now, at the crier’s call, let our tourney begin!”

Alys nocks her arrow, breathing deep as she closes her left eye to aim at the target’s eye. The first arrows loose at the crier’s call. She hits near dead center. It must be the nerves. She sneaks a peek at her competitors – only a few have come as close as she has.

One by one, round after round, the men are eliminated. The crowd, who had once cheered for her future husband, now turn their love to their Lady, becoming more raucous as each arrow is loosed. Alys does not dare to look upon her Uncle. She can feel his ire well enough, and does not need the distraction.

Finally, the last Manderly boy – Jonnel, if the crier is to be believed – is eliminated. “You are a worthy opponent, my lady. I am undeserving of the honor of your hand,” he says, placing a kiss upon her knuckle. She smiles and thanks the man before he makes his way back to his brother.

Only her and Mervyn remain at the butts.

“He may be undeserving of your hand, Lady Alys, but I certainly am more than up to the task,” he scoffs. “I shall even give you my sword as well, as many times as you ask for it and more.” Her rage is set aflame by his words, hotter than dragonfire – so hot, it burns cold. I am going to enjoy this.

The crier calls for them to nock once more. Inhale as you pull, exhale as you release, easy as breathing. She hears him shout loose, so she does. The arrows whistle through the air, and she knows before it lands it will be dead center. She looks over at Mervyn’s target, and his is centered. But not like mine. They send a judge – Lord Mormont, by the looks of it – out to check. Another – Lord Ryswell – joins him. The crowd hushes as they deliberate. Coming to an accord, they summon the crier.

“The Lady Alysanne Stark is our winner!” the crier shouts, and the crowd is insensate. They stomp and cheer and cry for Alys, so loud she can scarce hear herself think. She turns to Mervyn, whose mouth is agape.

“It seems your sword is unworthy of my sheath, Bolton,” she quips over the din. “I wish you and your future lady wife luck; Gods know she’ll need it!” She laughs as Holly and Mikken barrel into her, bundling her in an embrace as they jump up and down.

She looks over their heads – the lords and their sons are shocked, but do not seem angered by the result. Relief begins to set in, until she hears a commotion coming from the dais.

“No, no, no! This is not how this was supposed to go!” Bennard yells as he stomps toward her, mouth foaming. He rips her from Holly and Mikken’s grasp. “You little ingrate! Worthless fucking trollop!”

Before she can react, she hears a crack as her head whips violently. Blood pools on her tongue, tainting her mouth with the taste of copper. He’s hit me. Gods, he’s truly hit me.

The crowd is silent as he grabs her plait, twisting painfully. “You disgust me, you halfbreed whore. Your flagrant disrespect is at an end. I command you to marry the Bolton boy this very night. I don’t care if I have to hold you at sword point to see it done!” His spittle flies in her face.

“Everyone knows that marriage will not be valid in the eyes of Gods and men, as no marriage under threat of the sword is,” she says, voice projecting loud enough for the crowd to hear. “I’ve won, Uncle, fair and true; this contest is at its end. A Lord would take it gracefully, but you are no lord. The real lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North rides from Last Hearth, to take his rightful place on the Winter Throne. I’m certain he will be fair when he metes out the King’s justice.” She smiles menacingly as blood coats her teeth.

He shrieks as he throws her to the ground, kicking her once, twice, thrice in the gut. She coughs, curling into herself in agony. The crowd, regaining its senses, hisses and jeers. The hair-raising sound is enough to pull Bennard from his rage. He turns back to find the Lords in the North looking upon him with disgust, and a crowd so enraged they are near riot.

“Guards! Take the Lady Alysanne to her rooms and bar the door. If she is to act a child, she will be treated like one.” The guards hesitate. “Now!” Bennard shouts. The crowd grows restless as the guards grab her under her arms and drag her back to the keep. She’s begun to grow faint, so she does not hear what Bennard says to try to appease them. Whatever it is, she hopes he fails.

Once she is unceremoniously thrown into her rooms, she begins to laugh. It hurts, terribly, but she cannot help it. Her wretch of an uncle proved as foolish as she always thought. Perhaps the Lords would have been upset at her winning, if they had not been made indignant at her ill treatment. Their beloved Lord Rickon's only daughter, beaten by her uncle in front of Gods and men. And the crowd, filled with small folk and all manners of vassals, loathe him. Now, they all see him for what he truly is. A usurper cunt.

She forces herself up, and gingerly makes her way to her bed. She does not bother with the door, knowing that it will be locked, with guards posted outside it. She does not know what has happened to her bow, and can only pray that Holly or Mikken managed to save it from her Uncle’s wrath.

Consciousness begins to ebb and flow – like the tide. I should have taken the Maester at his word and fled to High Tide. She swears she hears Lymon attempt to gain access to her, but cannot tell if she is dreaming. If it happened in truth, he is clearly denied. Perhaps Bennard means to starve me, or hopes I bleed out internally. She goes back under, and comes to when it is long since dark.

She winces as she attempts to rise. Her ribs and stomach are especially sore, so movement must be made carefully. Once standing, she creeps to her window to look out at the moon. By its placement, she guesses it's the hour of the owl.

Suddenly, she hears a quiet scuffle at her door. She panics, searching for anything in her room that can be used as a weapon. She pockets a letter opener and grabs an iron candlestick for good measure.

Alys braces herself as she hears the lock click. The door opens; all she discerns are shadows and black cloaks. She raises the candlestick, preparing to fight to the death. Then, a hood drops, revealing long, fire kissed hair. She crumbles in relief, and Holly catches her before she hits the floor.

“By the gods, Alys! What did you mean to do with this thing, and in your state?” Holly asks, pointing to the candlestick.

“Hit you with it,” she wheezes, “though I’ll admit, I am not in the best fighting shape. Had hoped I’d get a second wind, but alas.”

Holly shakes her head, busying herself with cataloging all her injuries. Alys looks over her sister’s shoulder, trying to decipher just how she took down the guards. It seems she did not succeed by herself. Mikken holds open the door as the two Manderly brothers pull the unconscious guards inside. Nan the cook steps gingerly over them, basket in hand, with Vayon Cassel and his son Rodwell taking position at the door, which Mikken quietly closes behind him.

“What is this? I don’t understand,” she says. “Where is Maester Lymon?”

“They locked him in his turret, but not before he gave us marching orders,” Holly says. “We’re getting you out, tonight. First to White Harbor, then on a ship to High Tide. Your Aunt and Uncle have been informed of your arrival. Seems the Maester had a contingency plan.”

“He tends to have several,” she quips, wincing. Holly rolls her eyes, before turning back to the Manderlys. “Ribs bruised, not broken. Severe bruising on the abdomen, but doesn’t seem fatal. It’ll be painful, but we’ve got to go by horseback.”

“Aye, I’ll go prepare them now,” says – Joseth? – before making a quick exit.

“Holly, how do we know we can trust them?” she asks.

The remaining Manderly brother kneels before her on the floor. “My lady, my house is loyal to the one true Lord of Winterfell, your brother Cregan. We owe everything we are, our lives and our very home, to House Stark. Beyond house ties, I am here of my own accord. I would pledge my life and loyalty to you, my lady, if you will have me. Allow me, as a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, to swear fealty to you, so you know me to be loyal and true.”

Alys is overwhelmed by the gesture. “Your kindness and loyalty are noted, Ser, but I cannot accept. Your father would be most aggrieved to lose a son and heir in service to a Lady.”

“I am but the second son, my lady. My brother Joseth is the heir, with another brother who can play spare until he takes a wife and begets a son.”

Flabbergasted, all Alys can think is: Oh, so this is Jonnel. “Are you certain, Ser?”

“More than anything. Will you permit me?” he asks, reaching for her hand. She acquiesces.

“I, Jonnel of House Manderly, offer my services to the Lady Alysanne of House Stark. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

Alys swallows, overcome by the earnest show of devotion. I shall cherish his loyalty always. For he is my sworn shield, and I protect what’s mine.

“I, the Lady Alysanne of House Stark, vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise, Ser Jonnnel.” He beams at her for but a moment, before acting upon his vows.

“We must move quickly, my lady,” Jonnel says. “Your cousins have been locked in their rooms, and your Uncle drugged with milk of the poppy. Enough to put him to sleep for a few hours, but no more.”

“And the lords of the North? What of them?” she asks, watching as Holly quickly packs the necessities.

“The lords have seen all they needed to this day; enough to look the other way at your leaving,” says Jonnel. “The vassals, too, are in an uproar. Your brother can expect their support. Aye, your Uncle will not have an easy time of it once he awakes.”

Alys attempts a smile, bruised cheek smarting. “Good. That’s good. What of the guards?”

“Since tonight’s feast was canceled, the Maester thought it smart to have me send the remaining barrels to them directly," says Nan, speaking up from her place in the corner. "I happened to agree – good autumn ale like that shouldn’t be wasted. Outside of these lads, most are too drunk to stand. Though I suppose they’re not standing, neither.”

Alys, with help from Jonnel, walks to her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Thank you, sweet Nan. I will not forget this kindness.”

“You are our Lady. No matter where you go, Winterfell is always with you,” the cook says, wiping a tear from Alys’s eye. “Now, I’ve packed provisions. Should be enough for the journey there. But you all need to move now, there’s not much darkness left.”

Mikken steps in front of the door, distraught. “I’m coming, too, for I promised to protect you first! I know I failed, but I won’t again, I swear it!”

Alys's eyes water. “You did not fail me, Mikken. You could never,” she says, gentling the boy. “But I have a new task for you. I need you to protect Nan and the Maester until Cregan or I return. They’ll need you more than I will, and I can trust no one else but you.”

The boy begins to cry, and rushes to hug her. She tries not to flinch, not wanting to hurt the boy further. “I don’t want you to leave,” he hiccoughs.

Alys stiffens her lip, hugging him back. “I do not want to leave you either, sweetling, but I must. We’ll be reunited soon, you’ll see. Can you be brave for me until then?” She feels him nod. “Good lad.”

He wipes his eyes, and moves to Nan’s side. Alys turns to them one last time, offering a parting wave before Holly bundles her in a black cloak and Jonnel hurries them from her rooms. Vayon and Rodwell fall into step behind them. Quiet as ghosts in the crypt, they move through the Keep. They reach the stables with no interference, where Joseth and a stable boy have their mounts prepared.

Jonnel lifts Alys into Wynafryd’s saddle. Holly grabs a bow and quiver, one set of two, from the saddle bag – my bow, Gods be praised. She passes the bow to her before strapping the set she nicked from the armory to her back. The rest of the group races to mount their horses. If anyone spots them from Brandon’s Tower, they raise no alarms.

Alys looks up at the Maester’s Turret. It is dark, so she is unable to discern any movement through the window. She gives a wave anyway, hoping that Lymon can see. She pours her gratitude, and her grief, into the gesture. He knows, he must.

In a flash, they are out the East Gate and barreling into the hills outside. Avoiding the Kingsroad and camping will make the journey safe, but long. With her injuries, it will be many days until they reach the White Knife, and more yet before entering the safety of White Harbor.

Alys ignores her pain as best she can, making it a few hours before it becomes unbearable. As dawn starts to crest, they stop to set up camp. They share some bread and mead amongst them before Alys must rest her eyes. Jonnel offers to take first watch, and the others are happy to oblige.

In a trice, Alys is jostled awake. “Quietly, my lady,” Jonnel whispers. “There is something in the tree line. Prepare yourself.” She moves stand. As Jonnel unsheathes his steel, she moves to grab her bow. Body laid low, she does not even know if she has the strength to nock an arrow, but the weight is a comfort in her hand.

The leaves rustle further, putting everyone on high alert. Finally, they break, out of which come two of the largest wolf pups she has ever seen.They are fighting; no, they are wrestling. One grey, one black, they playful pair are clearly siblings. Alys sucks in a breath.

“They are direwolf pups,” Vayon whispers under his breath. “The sigil of your house, my lady.”

“Impossible,” Rodwell says. “Direwolves haven’t been seen south of the wall in at least a century.”

Until now. Alys quietly moves forward, so as not to startle them. She hears a chorus of “Be careful, my lady,” and “Alys, stop.” Shushing them, she squats low, holding open her palm. The wolf pups stop, and cock their heads. The grey one is more leery, preferring to watch, but the black comes right up to her hand, nudging it before rolling over to expose her belly.

“Hello, my girl. Have you been waiting for me?” Alys coos. The wolf pup’s orange eyes cut through her. I dreamt you. You’re mine, and I’m yours. She rubs her pup’s belly, watching her tongue lob as she smiles.

Alys turns back toward her companions, ignoring their shock. “Joseth, Vayon, search the wood for any sign of the mother. Based on the feel of this one, it has been some time since she ate. I assume the mother is dead, but we must be sure.” Joseth and Vayon nod, and make their way into the tree line. “Holly, check to see if Nan packed some milk for the first night’s journey. If she hasn’t, we’ll stop at the next town. They look nearly weaned, but it's best to be safe.”

“Alys, you can’t mean to keep them!” she hisses.

“Holly is right, my lady,” says Jonnel. "A direwolf is no pet. Even a pup can tear a man’s arm clean from his shoulder.”

“I do not mean to keep them, Ser. I only mean to keep the one. Rodwell,” Alys says, turning toward the lad, “come closer so that you make the grey pup more familiar with your scent. When your father returns, you both will take it toward Last Hearth. You should meet my brother along the way. Present it to him, for it is his by right.”

“Alys!” Holly exclaims.

“I dreamt them, Holly,” Alys says firmly, tone brokering no argument. “They are the sigil of our house. They are meant to be ours; mine and Creg’s.”

“You dreamt them?” she whispers. Alys nods. Though perturbed, Holly complies.

Alys picks up her pup, who burrows into the embrace. She grabs some meat from the provisions, and gives her a bite before gently laying down to rest. She trusts Jonnel and Holly to ensure her orders are followed.

Her pup curls up against her on her mat. She smiles, petting her back. “You’ll be called Frenya,” she whispers as the direwolf snuggles in closer. “We will always protect each other, you and I. Always.”

Alys shuts her eyes. When she dreams, this time it is not of wolves, but of the sea.

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sugarakis-p2 · 1 year ago

Text

All Knights and Day must die ch:26

{Mothman Shigaraki is the new king, so much on his shoulders and wings. Nothing better than to use Ur (Aka Ur Name x reader) to relieve his stress as he plots to destroy the Order of the Azure rose.}

Warning: Yandere mothman Shigaraki, Knotting and Macrophilia, Oral, blood, death.

@lovingbadguys @balanceisrelative @nut-in-me-jojo

Are you going mad? Strange visions plague your sleep. It's hard to tell in the grips of a warzone with a Mothman you despise. It's not that Darvish is entirely bad, but he is not your Shiggy. Maude was right about one thing, use a man and have them wrapped around your pinky. The Order have found Shigaraki and it's up to the League and your family to help Shigaraki.

Previous chapter<---

You stare at the food, your mouth waters and your eyes dart to Darvish.

You have not found the game you can kill in the forest, so you have been scavenging and rummaging for berries and roots you can eat. Even if you freeze what you've come across with your eye, the best Darvish can do is rip a chunk off before you run because bigger things are coming when they smell the blood. The creatures of the night are ruthless and relentless in the eternal night. Darvish put the money in the vendor's box and opened another with food. He examined the food first, then Darvish nodded to let you know eating it all was fine.

"Hurry up," the vendor boy hissed from behind bars, "There are night creatures everywhere."

You crammed your mouth with food, ravenously devouring it without a second thought. Every bite was just a fleeting sensation on your tongue before you moved on to the next. Efficiency was your goal, regardless of whether you genuinely savored each mouthful. A scream broke the silence.

"Is there a safe Inn nearby?" Darvish asked. The boy gave him a name before slamming his shop shut, grabbing your hand in his gloved one, and leading you away.

"You look too much like a worn-out princess. We will have to find you new clothes. I don't like being in their territory. The Order will be looking for you, and those clothes still look too fancy despite being in tatters. Although I would prefer you nude and in a nest," Darvish grinned. He almost looked normal in the clothes he stole. The hooded cape hid his wings. The Mohawk he meticulously cultivated was starting to grow and get shaggy. If it weren't for his extra set of eyes, he would almost look normal. Handsome even.

"I would never sleep with the monster that killed my sister," you snarled at him. That made him freeze and blink all sets of his eyes. You could see the anger twist in him.

"Your lifemate killed your sister, and everyone knew it before you. I saw it before you did, and I had not been there that long. I also had no part in your other sisters' death. Be grateful you are alive because of her sacrifice. Shigaraki really has indulged you too much, little female," Darvish growled with a chitter.

You wanted to slap him, but you have lived with Shiggy long enough to know this is a sign that he's at his limit with your behavior. You start sobbing uncontrollably. Your heart was racing as Darvish pulled you into the dark alley with a buzz of agitation. You knew it was all too true, and it was the last straw. Your heart is breaking with the truth of it. You were overwhelmed with emotion as Darvish pulled you into a tight embrace. You let out a gut-wrenching sob.

"I didn't ask to live and have my sister sacrificed! I hate that I'm alive. I thought Imogene had chosen the Order over her own family, and when I saw her again, I had expected her to be angry, to lash out at me, not for her to give her life and even her appearance to protect me. I had just begun to understand and appreciate her for who she was, and now she is gone. Maude isn't dead, but she would want to be if she knew she would be a vegetable. It was a cruel and unfair twist of fate, and I cursed myself for loving Tomura Shigaraki more than Maude. While she had her flaws, that was what you had loved about her, and now she's a hollow shell of her former glory. Yoon. Poor Yoon. He was always kind to me. He took care of me and was loyal to a fault. I was going to put him in my harem and help him raise his son. Now his baby is an orphan. All because of me," You let out a pitiful wail of pain and despair.

The sorrow that had been so tightly coiled in your chest finally burst free. You felt the tears spilling over, and sobs wracked your body as you grappled with the reality that it was all your fault. When your sobs slowed, Darvish swept you up in his strong arms and away to a hotel room. He ordered the staff to draw a hot bath and left momentarily to retrieve something. He came back with some soap and Sake.

You slumped in exhaustion, feeling too numb to care as he peeled off your clothes and gently placed your nude form in the tub. Davish joined you, handing you some Sake to sip while he guzzled it. His hands roamed lewdly as he lathered your body with soap. You whimpered softly, your tears still dripping, as he embraced you tightly, his naked body pressed against yours, the steaming water relaxing your muscles. The Sake and water warm you to the bones.

"I didn't think Mothmen could bathe. I watched Shigaraki clean himself, and it was sponge bathes daily," you say. Making conversation and pretending his cock wasn't pressing against you. You thought of Shigaraki, fucking you rough while Darvish's fingers wiggled lower, and his panting increased. You missed Shigaraki.

"We are trapped. I can not fly if we want to. The Order has the dragon-born monitoring the skies. A scary one named Ryukyu. She is not one I can fight," he moaned, bucking his hips lightly, "Shigaraki must have spared his wings to combat. You smell so sweet. I can't fly if I wanted to, but this is worth it." Darvish groaned, the pressure increasing on your backside, annoying you and almost making you spill your drink. Dry humping in his sleep was one thing, but you snapped as his claws made their way between your thighs.

"You are a monster!" You hissed in a fury, pushing away from him. His grip around you tightened, digging his claws in not to let you slip away, as he snatched the eye patch off your face and looked down at you, twisting you around to see his stupid smile. Holding you too tight, you felt the bile rise in your throat as you feared the worst. He gripped your face, and his lips descended on yours for a kiss. They are soft and shockingly gentle as his tongue caresses your lower lip. Shigaraki's kiss was always rough and possessive, his long tongue sometimes making you gag with lust. You parted your lips slightly and allowed him entrance. When his tongue attempts to entwine with yours, you clamp your teeth. He was quick and didn't let you bite him.

"Wicked little Moonbeam. By law, I get pussy. Do you want to starve? What? Should I spend only my gold when you give nothing back," He growled, reaching out and touching your necklace. You grip it tight from his claws. This was a gift from your mate, your Shiggy, and Darvish cannot have it. You rather starve. He saw your resolve and dropped the subject. You tried to kick at him in your rage. He looked mildly amused by your efforts.

"Why don't you use your kingly power? There are still your men here. Why do we have to sneak around? Are you, not a king?" You hiss at him. He laughs and leans his head back, and arches up to you, his cock brushing against your thighs and calves.

"Not anymore. I gave up my title for you. To be in your harem, I am guaranteed a grub and a duke's title. That is why Overhaul took over. It does not matter once your mate is healed. He will re-take my kingdom for himself and appoint me Duke. I do not have to lift a claw. All I need to do is protect our little goddess. So you see, I have rights," he explained, pulling you to him with a softer touch.

"Why not keep me for yourself and your kingdom?" You hesitate in asking the question. After all, if it had been Shiggy, he would have. You wouldn't even dare to think that Shigaraki could have made such a deal involving a grub outside of their circle. It was one thing letting someone lick you in public.

That just seemed to be their way. How injured was Shiggy? Is he at death's door? You shake your head, dismissing the thought. No way would Shigaraki ever let anyone else take his place. He would come back from the grave before he let that happen. Darvish must have seen doubt on your face because he became serious.

"Overhaul does not believe in our ways. I also find his insubordination reckless. He does not understand how I find his measures towards your guard disgusting. If given a choice, Yoon would have chosen you and sacrificed your sister, and you would be more docile with a male you know. What a tragic waste of genuine talent. I would never do anything as dishonorable as go back on my word and force the goddess," he explained, pulling you flush to him. You are stunned, unsure what to do other than let him wash your hair, "I like your natural scent more."

"Stop that," you whine. His claws create a pleasant tingly sensation on your scalp.

"Wash me," he ordered. He had washed you, and you can no longer think of a reason not to. If you are honest with yourself, you do like running your fingers through mothmen fluff. You plant your knees on his stomach and work your fingers into his sable fur collar.

"What a good girl. Shigaraki must have trained you well in something," he groaned and purred as you shampooed his neck ruff. You roll your eyes and continue with the task. He grabbed your waist and pushed you down on his stomach. You yelped as your legs wrapped around him, and you could feel the rumbles of his purrs hit your core, "He's trained you on how to be a proper queen and breeder. I will treat and teach you to be a better mate. Your pussy is hot and slick on me. Shigaraki must have broken you in very well. Do you crave cock?"

You blush at his lewd words. You do crave it. It felt amazing to be filled by Shigaraki, his knot making you feel like you would break, his heat spreading as he pumped you with cum that leaked from every hole.

"Look at you blush and get wetter," he growled, grinding you hard on his abs. You squeal as he grins and looks you in your eyes, "Good girl. Look at me." His large hands made you buck harder, rolling your hips and rubbing your clit over his body. Tingles of pleasure travel up your spine, and you moan and close your eyes. Not wanting to look or obey him. He growled, dragging you up toward his mouth. You panicked. Screaming no, thrashing, and violently yanking at his antennae and hair, knowing it would cause the most pain.

"It is ok, my little goddess. As I said, I will never force anything on you as long as you stay by my side," he said, letting you slide down his body slowly. "It felt like you were enjoying yourself, and I wanted to give you more. I felt the heat of your cunt on my middle and thought I would melt. I saw your body shudder with desire, your skin prickle with bumps, your nipples harden, and your breath hitched. These are all things I saw."

You are understanding more and more what his mysterious power is. Those eyes can see everything. His claws tenderly trace through your hair, and it's not delicately the way Shigaraki would do it, but it's still a pleasure. His dark and soulful eyes seem to pierce right to your core, and you feel the urge to scrub away any remnants of your scent, lest he mistake it for something more. He swiftly lifts you out of the bathtub yet gently and wraps a large plush towel around you. He then spreads his wings, gently dusting you as Shigaraki did. You can feel the weight of the marking, and it scares you a bit. His wings wrap around you like a cocoon as he starts to keen, a sound that reverberates deeply within you and lulls you to sleep.

"I still don't understand. Why can't we use your connections? You must have at least some allies in your kingdom. The night creatures have taken over this city. I saw many Mothmen in the streets. Traveling in a larger group would be safer and quicker," you tried to persuade and reason. His lower set of eyes opened and stared at you drowsily. A hissy chuckle escaped his throat.

"He honestly didn't tell you, did he? I have no allies while I travel with the goddess and the fated mate of Shigaraki. I am defenseless and isolated. They would attempt to eliminate me to win Shigaraki's approval or claim you to keep the entire kingdom, challenging the elder's ruling of fated mate or even murder you as a false goddess. Needless to say, none of these scenarios would end well for you or me," he purred. You heard a scream somewhere outside and cringed against him.

"I want to go home," you whimpered.

"We're still at war. I'll protect you. As the other mate, I will see to it," he moaned, falling fast asleep. It's not long before you join him.

Your dreams are strange, but this was the worst one. Your dead sisters sat at the table drinking tea. You're deceased siblings crying and playing somewhere in the distance.

"Wrong! I am not dead. Really. This is not dignified. Why would I ever want a baby with Ginari? I exist to be a queen," Maude said. What? You wondered.

"Really, you are the most selfish of cunts. I can't believe you raised her. Adam should have killed you too," Imogene replied to Maude, nibbling on a cookie.

"Adam is smarter than you. He realized early on that our most precious assets should have been placed in the most sensible hands. Our little sister reminds me so much of both. Lazy with a good backbone like father and clever with a sweet naiveté that men flock to like mother," Maude chuckled. You know that chuckle. It was not friendly. It made you feel little deep down in your gut. Imogene scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps Adam knew it took many styles of teachings to shape our little sister. He has been the most cautious and calculating in the family. I am still mad he let you and Abraham break her with your fanatical beliefs."

"Trauma breeds greatness. Look at Daddy and myself, for example. I fail to see your reasoning, Imogene, since I raised a perfect little goddess," Maude genuinely laughed.

"Then, by your logic, you are an average whore sold by Daddy," Imogene replies, fanning herself.

"I knew instantly I would never reach the very peak. I had too much respect for the consequences, unlike Icarus dreaming of immortality and scorching his wings. Nothing was more important to me than protecting my little sister, giving her the highest status, and safeguarding her from harm. But then doubt crept in, slowly unraveling my convictions, and pain replaced loyalty.The troubling thought that my sister's stupid husband could never understand my intention, that his selfishness could shatter my sacrifice and shatter my heart. My purpose was to give my life in homage to the purest piece of mommy, and it mattered not if I was dead to the world if she reigned. What can he say of his own courage? All he has done is place her in danger, and what have you done for the greater good of our family, Imogene?"

"I gave my life! You are a dumb bitch. Little sister, who do you think is right?" Imogene asked. Collapsing to the floor, wracked with sorrow, you curl into a ball, letting the tears flow freely. Your heartache is unbearable as if you're trying to escape the pain by going mad. Apologies stream from your lips, desperate cries for mercy, as you long for the comfort of the people you miss. You know that no matter how much you apologize, nothing will fill the aching void in your soul, and wishing for oblivion over this, whatever this is, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I miss you both so much."

"No! No! You can't do that," Maude scorned. Slamming her teacup down, "Look at how soft you have gotten. I am so disappointed. Here I am in a deep sleep, and you have not even figured out how to use that. I thought I raised you better! Really!" Maude huffed, pouring more tea into a fresh cup that appeared. Her penetrating gaze bore down on you. It was as if you could feel her reaching inside your soul, prodding you to think more profoundly and strive for something greater. Confusion and unease warred within you. You could not interpret what it meant. Like a mandala of questions, her unspoken admonishment hung in the air around you. What were they trying to tell you? Why are they haunting you like this, and why couldn't you understand it?

"I-I-I," you sputtered when Maude sighed; the clink of her tea cup was deafening as she mocked you.

"I-I-I…really! Don't you want to see him? Don't you want to do what is best for your family?" Maude scorned.

"You are the worst!" Imogene shouts at Maude before she calculates her next words. "Little sister. Do not cry for me. I couldn't have asked for a better death. I want you to know she is not entirely wrong. I feel you must choose your own path. You have already parted from us and carved your own life. No matter what. The dangerous part of Shigaraki is always connected to you. The whole point of marking is to keep you connected. If you want to see him, you have to think of him and bend the magic of your eye to you. Accept the most primal and evil part of him, and you will be home in your heart," Imogene said, blowing on her tea.

"That's cheating! She could hurt herself by using magic too often. What a basic cunt," Maude sneered, tossing a cookie at Imogene. "You have always been a simple-minded idiot, Imogene. That's why you are dead. Listen to your Maude, my little treasure! The most basic of people are the easiest marks. My love and protection were intended to save you. I love you, my darling little sister, with a love that knows no bounds. A love that conquers all, for my love, is the only true love. It would be best if you carried that with you, always. Recall what I taught you. I am precious, but so are you. Sparkle! Sparkle! My dazzling gem. Remember, you are my treasure. I love you, little sister. More than life. More than anything. Use that," she said, pouring more tea.

"I don't understand. I want to see Shiggy," the moment you uttered these words, the world changed.

Shigaraki's monolithic back straightened in the darkness, a warning sign indicating he had scented his prey. Outrage etched across his face as he slowly turned his massive head, his expression first drawn in furious curiosity until he locked eyes with you. What the hell is that? It's him, but like when you first saw him. Your heart hammering your chest, an overwhelming sense of evil, you attempt to turn and flee, only to fall straight into his grasp as that unmistakable boney hand clasps down on you.

Fearful of being crushed and turned to dust in his clutches, you flatten yourself as much as possible. At the same time, he slowly lifts you between three giant fingers, creating an impenetrable metal cage encapsulating you in its viselike grip. Instead of being squeezed like a rodent, he cups you in his hands like a treasured possession, his most precious beginning.

His antennae linger on your cheek for a sweet moment, an eternity. The look of love he gives you makes you wet and dissipates all your fears. Shigaraki flutters and chirps, and your heart melts as he trills and coos. Leaning down to nuzzle you. Until a look of hatred washes over his features and ruins the moment completely. His coos and trills become menacing hisses and growls, and your heart sinks to your stomach. You brace yourself as Shigaraki pulls away, jerking his head back as if your touch has scalded his skin. Your fears return, raining on the romance of the moment.

"You stink of another male. I hate it," he snarled. You screamed in terror as his razor-sharp fangs clicked in anticipation, the way he does when he wants to taste blood. His long tongue reached out hungrily towards you. You squirm and scream in surprise when his tongue snakes past his sharp fangs to gobble you up. His long tongue harshly lathes over your entire body.

Ripping off your clothes in one swipe, he turns his head to the side and spits the fabric out. You felt a chill run down your spine as his powerful tongue relentlessly explored every inch of your body as if savoring every drop of its prey. Your breath quickens when he manipulates you with a massive single claw. It trails downward over your body, parting your leg. The tip of his tongue harshly entered your throbbing mound with a mighty thrust. You screamed again as he filled you to bursting, the tears streaming down your face as his tongue violated your pussy. Shigaraki pulls his tongue with a lip-smacking wet slurp. You shuddered in relief, terrified this titan would split you in two and swallow you whole.

"My honey," he trills. He tips his hand, dropping you. You claw at the air in terror when you land softly in the nest. He descends on you, shrinking to his normal size. His muscled form is now pushing down against you, trapping you beneath him. At the moment, it feels like the world stands still. Violently spreading your legs and clamping his mouth over your cunt. His broad hands suddenly grab your legs, spreading them wide as his mouth clamps on your cunt, tongue flicks and glides against your core. No, he is bulkier, with more toned muscle.

He presses you down harshly. When he was at home, he was getting softer. His hair is much longer and pure white, cascading around you like a midnight embrace. You clutch at it and arch your back up into his mouth. You claw at it, pulling him closer to your body as your spine arches in pleasure. You can feel the intensity of his lust, more vigorous and more demanding than you've ever known. You feel a tiny spark of fear, laced with delight, as you recognize the wild part of Shigaraki in these moments. He is a giant of strength and power, with toned muscles.

His wings, midnight black with a pattern of deadly white like polished skull, flutter and vibrate at your core. He was getting softer at home. At this moment, he was feral, instinctive. This is Shigaraki's primal side, a side your sisters told you to accept. And you do, gladly. You laughed to yourself. They don't know this is one of your favorite parts of Shigaraki. You envelop him, fingers entwined in his hair, back arched, and present to him. You revel in this opportunity to be with him again in this way. In a moment of splendor, this is definitely one of your favorite parts of Shigaraki.

"Shiggggy," you whined.

"Don't resist me," he hissed. He grabs your hips, stabilizing his body as he slams into you, his rageful lust unleashed. His claws dig into your skin, bruising your tender flesh. He ravishes you, and each thrust is more demanding and more intense than the last. His teeth nip down your body as if offering an eternal reminder of your shared pleasure. You cry out in pain and pleasure as he thrusts deeper inside you. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, licking away the salty tears spilling down your cheeks.

He ravishes you, his passion and rageful lust combining in a moment of intense pleasure. His moans echo in your ears, urging you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. His teeth sink into your shoulder, intensifying the sensations coursing through your body, his wings flapping and vibrating. They have darkened to almost entirely black and ragged. He craves you, his fervent hunger and escalating lust melding together in a vortex of explosive rapture as he plunges himself inside you. His lusty roars reverberate in your mind, compelling you ever nearer to the apex of bliss. You grip his back, your fingernails scratching him as you climb higher.

In one final thrust, his knot expands as your walls pulse on him. You both collapse in a sweaty heap. Your bodies are still trembling from the intensity of the moment. He wraps his strong arms around you and drags you close to him, his warm breath fanning over your shoulder. You can't help but feel grateful for this moment as you bask in the afterglow of his raging lust. Shigaraki licked and purred.

"I wanted to ask you about our grubs and about Darvish. Yoon is dead, and Yoosung needs a family, and my sis-" you started when he growled.

"Grub will be thrown to the pits like all foundlings. It is how I was raised," he chittered. You narrowed your eyes at him, rage bubbling inside. That is not what you wanted to hear. He appears not to care at all now that he's humped you and was about to tell him so when he roughly pulled from you—waking you up. You wake up gasping, remembering the last thing you saw was Shigaraki talking to a visage of Master.

Darvish stood in the doorway with his arms full of packages. You gasped and clutched at the blanket over your nude form. You are still adjusting to everything you saw and experienced, something you immediately regretted because you didn't think. Mothmen love submission. He dropped the bags as his jaw went slack, and began drooling. Kicking the door closed, he was on you, looming and panting. Drool pooling on your belly. His eyes seemed ablaze with hunger, black and cold like an unfeeling predator. You knew you were in trouble now, and that predator was ready to devour you; you had seen the same look moments ago. You stiffen and clamp your legs shut. You know it will never be enough to stop a beast, but you hope you can use Maude's teachings.

"You are a man of your word. You won't force me?" You asked him with dangerous caution. He stared at you before slamming his head next to yours in the bed. Violently jerking off and endlessly spurting cum.

"Yes! Yes! Teasing wicked goddess! Tell me what you want?" he pants. A large throbbing cock in his hand. You see and crave it, and he instantly responds with a dangerous stiffening of his body.

"I want to live a happy life with my family. I want Shigaraki," You don't bother to mince words. You don't wish for the impossible, and it shouldn't be twisted into a curse. He looks at you intently as he bucks his hips before he answers.

"I can smell you are wet and drenched with need. Let me drink you up and place me in your harem. I will tell you how to keep the little grub," He panted. You froze, wondering how he knew, "You mentioned how the grub would be orphaned. The grub you fed from your chest when we met. I assumed from the sound of it you wanted the grub."

Your gaze hardens as you look into his eyes. He is eerily aware of your thoughts, almost as if he can read your mind. Yet all you can see in his eyes is the tragedy of the family you lost. Your chest constricts as you remember the pain and the injustice that was served in your war, and as you think of Yoosung, your heart aches more. His entire family died for you. The least you can do in his honor is hold Yoosung to your beast with adoration and offer your devotion with the utmost respect.

"You are already in my harem according to you," you seethed. He flapped his wings triumphantly in a passionate display of seduction. His sly smirk betrayed his impish confidence in having already ensnared his prey in his clutches.

"After spending time with you, I have begun to unravel a pattern in Shigaraki's behavior. He makes promises yet finds a way to break them. As he remains steeped in the old traditions, I doubt he will ever accept a male, let alone a foundling, into your nest. I offer a different solution. Make an unbreakable pledge with me, and I will help you keep the grub," he offered. He caresses your legs and rumbles with desire. You bite your lip and consider your options, remembering Maude's teachings very well.

Shigaraki felt the darkness fading as bursts of light clouded his vision. Cracking his eyes wearily, he felt the sensation of sinking, and then suddenly, he was swept out of the tank, baby daughter still nestled in his arms. He felt a searing pain in his chest, and something warm and wet pulled around him and forced him to his knees with a harsh smack. He was surrounded by screams, a hissy wail, alarms, and a blinding light that hurt his eyes. A sense of dread and danger that hung in the air. He strained to recall why he was here and what had brought him here. He heard the Doctor's voice from somewhere nearby, calling out urgently, "No! They are not ready!"

"Your life ends here, bunny bitch of the Order. He has a baby in his arms!" Shigaraki could hear Adam scream. "No regrets," She gargles her last breath.

He felt hands on his shoulders, lifting him and then flipping him on his back in a pool of water and broken glass. They are not breathing. His daughter had stopped wailing, and his lungs were not working. A bolt of lightning surged through his body, and he barely managed not to hurt his grub. Shigaraki gasped for breath as he felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins as the cold water surrounded his body. He was cold. His daughter had to be cold. He felt hands trying to take her from him. He thrust himself upright with a sudden burst of strength, swiping at what was trying to take his grub from him. He sensed a splash of hot liquid and the scent of iron. She is shivering; he removed the cloak from the person he killed. Turning the remains to dust and cradling his daughter to him when Adam runs over.

"Are you alright? Is the baby ok?" He panted. Shigaraki checks to see her mewling, four little fists gripping at him as she roots for a nipple. Adam helps him up with a grunt and shouts, "They have the Doctor, but more are still coming, Kurogiri; make a portal back to the safe house with the kids!"

Shigaraki can stand on his feet, pulls his shirt off, bundles his grub up, and hands her over to Adam. She chirped for her father and then wailed almost like a human baby, which made Shigaraki internally cringe.

"Take care of her. I will get the Doctor and my mate back. I feel as if I could destroy the whole world right now," Shigaraki growled. Adam wanted to argue, but he saw Shigaraki's resolve and turned to go through Kurogiri's portal.

"I have the Azure rose and most important things the Doctor wanted to keep. Give us five minutes to pull back our troops for you, and then don't hold back. We'll send reinforcements after," Adam shouted over his shoulder. With a chittering of his teeth and a flap of his wings, he orders Kurogiri to join Adam. Adam was the best asset of your clan aside from yourself thus far.

Shigaraki clenched his jaw, closing his eyes and muttering a silent prayer for his mate and grubs. He had counted off a thousand in his head, yet the Master's voice still lingered, jabbering in the back of his head, trying to break his resolve and order him to get something. But Shigaraki determinedly continued his countdown, his anticipation growing with each number. He knew the enemy was fast approaching, and he couldn't risk wavering now. He had to contain his he's about unleashed, a strength that could topple the world. He had to keep the destructive power hidden and precise until the last possible second.

Shigaraki was enormous and terrible to behold, his cold crimson eyes blazed with a perverse and vicious intelligence, and its sharp claws dug eagerly into the earth that it trod upon. His black wings spread wide and shimmering in the cave's dim light. He looked like an ethereal harbinger of death. This lab was hidden away from the hive in the black forest, a part of the land where the earth seeped black blood that quickly caught fire. His people should be fine.

The ground shook and rattled as he leaned down and touched the ground, and the terrain began to buckle and splinter beneath his feet. The trees withered and shrank back, giving way to a spreading black stain of decay that stretched out like a stain on a canvas. The beat of destruction sank in deeper, its magical aura seeping into the soil, its putrid dust filling the air.

Beneath the powerful monstrosity that is Shigaraki, the land twisted and writhed as his quirk consumed it. The land seemed to melt away, turning to tarry black goo that bubbled and crackled with sizzling heat. Trees melted into the boggy mire that rose around the creature, and the air filled with a strange, grating sound of destruction.

Shigaraki's dark aura began to spread slowly, energy seeping ever outward. Everywhere it touched, the land became desiccated and grey, lifeless and barren, small creatures withering and dying in its wake, blowing in the wind like ash. Its force was so powerful that rocks and boulders were demolished in mere moments. He had so many different quirks now and endless mana since he moved the lines in their favor.

It was time to go after the brats he knew stole his mate. He bellowed a deafening roar as the ground came to rest. Unable to fly yet, dark tentacles burst from his body, crushing everything in his path. Before long, he was traveling towards Deku, that brat that had taken his mate and carried the thing Master wanted the most, leaving nothing but ruin in its wake.

His eyes, glowing with fire and rage in the eternal night, glared down at the group of heroes beneath him. The heroes, a motley crew of warriors and mages, knew they had no choice but to face Shigaraki head-on, and so they drew their weapons, readying for battle.

Shigaraki smashed into the ground amidst an eruption of dust and rocks, its shockwave tearing through the heroes. A few of them managed to dodge out of the way, but the others were thrown into the air, tumbling and screaming. One of the heroes, a warrior of legendary skill, dove into action and was the first to attack. Endeavor's sword was drawn, and his courage steeled, so he leaped forward and brought it down with a powerful slash. Shigaraki barely noticed his attack and retaliated with a fierce swipe of his claws. Shigaraki was falling to the ground, his decay not working. He knew this could only be the work of one Knight.

The warrior raised his shield in time to block the blow, but the force of it was still significant enough to send him flying back. He landed several feet away, beaten and bruised but still alive. Meanwhile, the mages had prepared their spells. Magic pyre of fire raced through the air and slammed into Shigaraki, their bright colors casting a strange glow over the battlefield, setting the fields ablaze. Shigaraki was unfazed, however, and with a beat of his wings, he put out the flames on him and headed for Easer's head.

The heroes cringed in fear as the fire licked at their feet. They scrambled out of the way as the blazing inferno spread further and further, searing and burning everything in its path. The warrior, however, was not deterred. Endeavor stood his ground and activated his special ability, radiating a glowing aura that protected him from the heat. He used another fiery move. Taking advantage of his distraction, he readied his mace and marched forward. The heat dried out Shigaraki's wings, and he took to the air.

The sky was lit with rage, boiling with the fury of a battle about to commence. The flame knight, Endeavor, clad in armor that glowed like a furnace, braced himself against the blows coming his way. Shigaraki, dark magic pulsing around him that he could not use, hovered menacingly in the air, crimson eyes fixated on his adversary beneath.

Suddenly, Shigaraki rushed forward at breakneck speeds, talon-like claws ready to rend the flesh from the Endeavors' body. The Knight instantly retaliated, sending a wave of raw flame towards his attacker. The magical fire engulfed the monster in a blaze of heat, its scorching intensity threatening to consume his wings. He just needed to outlast this pain and maim Easerhead so he could heal and kill all the Knights. He wants to destroy them all, to the bone, to their souls.

Shigaraki was not to be outdone, and it retaliated in kind, pounding Endeavor full force with his new body. The Knight was thrown backward, grunting in pain as the force of his blows buffeted him. The monster continued to assail him with wave after wave of strength he did not know Shigaraki had.

The Knight mustered his strength and attempted to fight back, pounding his fists into the monster's chest with all his might. But it was futile as Shigaraki simply shrugged off the blows and retaliated with a flurry of its own powerful jabs, claws racking over the most tender of vulnerable chinks in his armor. In mere moments, the Knight was beaten to his knees.

Finally, the Shigaraki's victory was complete. The Knight lay on the ground, defeated, his armor scorched and beaten beyond recognition. The Shigaraki surveyed his handiwork with a satisfied smirk, victorious after an epic and brutal fight. He placed his foot dead center and raised his arm as Endeavor did in his victories.

Shigaraki turns his attention to Eraser's head. The Knight's scream of horror filled his heart with joy, ignoring everyone's attempt to stop them. Everyone was fearful of the sheer power of Shigaraki and his quirk. He had clawed Eraser Head mercilessly, leaving deep and bloody gashes on his face. The slash of his claws had rung out like thunder, screaming for justice. Deku ran in, determined to save his teacher. With each step, the ground trembled as if the earth was in anguish too. He struck Shigaraki with an immense force, so powerful it severed his jaw from his face.

Blood splattered across the landscape, cascading in every direction. Shigaraki staggered back, clutching at the deep and deadly wound.

The pain was almost unbearable, but he refused to be broken. He refused to be defeated. The battle was far from over. Eraser Head had been saved, but his quirk had been removed, and Easer Head was no longer a factor. Now, it was time for Shigaraki to heal and regain his strength. He was determined to finish this fight, and finish it he would. He tried to touch the ground again, only to have the green Knight interfere again.

Lifting his prey in the air with black rope magic. Shigaraki's resolve to persevere was strong, and the Green Knight Deku could sense it. Delving into the depths of his power, Deku pulled the two of them into the air, giving Shigaraki no purchase as the teenager pummeled him, bloody and broken. The Green Knight pounded Shigaraki with every ounce of strength he had, not relenting until his enemy's body was covered in blood and broken in multiple places. Despite his crushing damages, Shigaraki refused to die without achieving his dream, not before tasting his own success and seeing more of that beautiful landscape of the knights driven before him.

Shigaraki firmly grasped for one final moment and reached his clawed hands out to catch him. Suddenly, they were both transported to a different world, confronting the Green Knight and his Master. Shigaraki's dream was finally on the verge of being realized, and he had never given up the battle to fulfill his ambition. He hated this place. Master started to try to eat him, something he was not surprised over, but it still hurt.

Right now, Master was monologuing and still trying to become one. Master points to Nana, his grandmother on the other side, and he becomes enraged. He separated his wild side to talk to Deku, who was staring at him with utter rage and purest pity, not saying anything useful and disgusting to Shigaraki further.

"I'll never forgive you for all the lives you took," Deku says.

"Forgive me? I will never forgive anyone. The Order is a rotting corpse filled with lying maggots. They came to the East and slaughtered us. We're only convenient pawns or monsters to your kind. I will show your kind a real monster," Shigaraki hissed.

"The damage you are causing now has nothing to do with what those people did to you," Deku reasoned.

"Then you're an idiot. If you vowed yourself to the Order, you share your people's accountability. My mate told me fear is the parent of cruelty, she read it to me once from a human book, and the Order breeds nothing but fear of night creatures. Do you know why my humans fight so hard? Because I make them happy. My mate was forced to eat her kin to survive. I don't have time to argue. Tell me. Do you have my mate?" Shigaraki spat with seething hate. His primal side was dominating both his reason and Master's ghostly presence. It demanded his mate and blocked out all other desires.

"Don't answer him," one of the other humans said. Shigaraki stares closely and remembers what was told to him about Master's history and is starting to understand. How pathetic and low, Master, he thought. Deku wavered, and he took advantage of it.

"The day my mate came to me, I had only killed humans invading my territory. I am only keeping your kind from killing my kind and family. I have known nothing but to protect my people and those I love. I know the truth of how my kind has been wronged, for you have robbed my family and kingdom of the right to a safe home. You stole our night, and you stole a part of my heart and soul. It's not impossible, Deku. I, and my kind, have seen enough to challenge your lies. You will never steal from us again," he reasoned.

"That's a lie," Deku said low. Shigaraki smiled, a malicious glint in his eye because it was a lie.

"It doesn't matter. Everything will die, or I will get my mate back. I am a monster, that's the difference, and it doesn't matter if you understand," Shigaraki said, turning to his primal side.

He attempted to reason with the horrid brats of the Order. He thinks you would have been proud of him, but he will have to let his beast come out. It is the only way to keep his sanity. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, ready to let his instincts take over. That was a part of him of his true self he didn't like you to see. Tenko and he both want you and this. It wasn't just a part of his rage. It was the part that healed and tried to impale Deku that consciousness came back. He would take the power and search for you.

The screams are a crescendo. The tears, the smell of the triumph, the taste of blood and decay in the air is tantalizing. He wants to kill, rut, and eat. The green Knight's rage and tears were sweet when he reached out again. This time when he reaches out, and skewers his lover, Baku, he thinks. He trampled his mentor and got bored. Where was his mate? He would have touched the ground again and killed them all.

But they seemed too sad and broken. Not toys worth his time anymore. Master screamed, but his voice was small compared to the roar of his instincts. He sniffed the air and found the male that was like you but not you. It screamed a lot too. He smelled liked you but was like the witch, Maude, a false mate. He is still family and the caretaker of the little ones. Shigaraki takes him from the battlefield, and this one will guide him to his grubs. Shigaraki didn't even need Adam to say anything. He could read his body language like a book, just like his mate.

"I said put me down, fuck face! You are scaring the kids. What the fuck is wrong with him?" Adam asked Zenru.

"Seems he has gone feral. Things must have been bad," Zenru replied.

"Hey! Hey! You didn't get the Doctor back? Holy fuck. I hate everything. Listen up, Shigggy ," Adam sneered, his voice cutting through. Shigaraki was more annoyed when Adam used the nickname only you are allowed to use. He tried to ignore it, but it was insistent, like you. Yapping when he wanted to rut but telling an interesting story.

"We killed many insurgents from the other hives, Maude was good bait, and I'm happy to say we did it without mercy. Some Order members showed up. Happy to report we killed them as well," Adam said. Adam is holding a grub. A new one, and he didn't like its smell.

"What is that?" Shigaraki hisses.

"This is just an orphan. What's another mouth to feed? Disregard it. We have other things to discuss," Adam said, shielding the false grub from a false mate. It is not like his own. His own were special and smelled purely of you. This thing smelled like the thing he hated. Therefore, it must be destroyed. Shigaraki reached out to end it when Zenru and Dabi stepped in front. Allies get what they want.

Shigaraki stops and focuses on finding his grubs. He will get a more pure scent from them and search for you. Everything will be corrected when his mate is rutted and in the nest. For a brief moment, he had reminded him why he had grubs to begin with. He needed to keep them safe to keep you close to him. He found them bundled in a nest and began to coo and keen to them.

"Is he even Shigaraki anymore?" He could hear Spinner ask.

"Yes. If you had a feral side and let it rule you, you are still you, but following your nature. Think of it like that," Zenru instructed.

"Where's the guy that smells like me?" Dabi asked Shigaraki. 'Back there,' he signaled with the flick of his wings and antennae to Dabi, much to Lyra's wailing. Dabi shoved her away, much to his delight. Dabi doesn't look well. He thinks, somewhere far away. It was amongst the same voices as Master. In the back of his head, a smaller, less capable version of himself was screaming Dabi shouldn't go. Dabi's wings are almost gone. Dabi's white bandages fluttered in the wind as he used his feet to fly away like his father. The voice in his head got louder, and he ignored it. He needed his mate in the nest.

"Don't tell me what to do," he snarled when Shigaraki told him something was wrong. He closed his eyes and drifted above the sky without moving, looking for his mate. Kurogiri was consoling a wailing Lyra, and Adam had taken the false grub away. Spinners' vibrations were acceptable.

"The aberrant hive to the North is in a free for all after the Overhaul took over," Spinner said. So , What does he care? He thought, still letting himself drift higher. It was no use. You are too far for him to catch a scent, and suddenly he is exhausted. He will destroy everything between him and you. It was that simple, touching who first is what matters. He was going to let his connection find you.

"Are you listening, you fucking twit!" Adam snarled. Adam was annoying him. He annoyed him so much that he turned on Adam and snapped while the others cringed away. Adam was like you. Surprising. "Don't snarl at me, you fucking shit bag with wings! Fuck this. You hold this. Zenru, help me!"

Searing pain. Then he was engulfed in the scent of grubs. He cooed and keened to them. If one wailed too much, he would fetch his mate. Adam turned to Zenru, letting Shigaraki snarl and scream in agony with the grubs.

"Is that safe? His flesh is rippling, and he sounds distant even for a creature like him, you know, not emotionally present?" Adam asked.

Zenru nodded like you have shown him, "As long as they are not wailing for food, he will nest with them. Look, he is already forming a cocoon. That's silk to protect him and the grubs."

"That rabbit bitch let him out before he was fully developed. We keep the grubs taken care of and let him bake longer. I will help Lyra since I don't trust an order bitch alone. Spinner, you take care of Maude and Giran. Zenru, you keep doing your thing.

"My thing of controlling the Generals and running a war?" Zenru snorted.

"Yeah, that thing. Will the kids be safe around him?" Adam asked, pointing to Shigaraki

"He seemed to have a deep connection to them even when he denied it," Zenru fluttered unsurely, wanting to return to battle but seeing Adam as his best line to the human fighters. Adam seemed to consider the options and grabbed Mabel and John aside.

"You must be a big girl and care for the younglings. Uncle Kurogiri and the Nest sisters will help. John, you be a man and take care of your sisters," Adam instructed. His sisters sniffled. Shigaraki reached out and pulled them in under his wings, cooing and keening to them in the nest. These are all his little grubs, nuzzling the girls with the babies. That was all Adam needed for reassurance. At the same time, Paul was helping with Yoosung and the other one he had yet to name.

"I still hate him," John growled under his breath. Adam gave him a hard look, and John gave it right back. Your family is not much for conversation, but the message from Adam was clear. Good. Hate him. That way, it's easier to protect what really matters. What you really love. It was unspoken and true, at least for Adam, who Maude and Abraham raised. He hefted his pickaxe and followed after Lyra. That dumb bitch was the key to Kurogiri and, in Adam's mind, one of the most valuable members of the army. He stopped briefly by the light touches of the nest sisters . Adam sighed, returned, and pressed kisses with his fingers to all the little ones, including Yoosung and the unnamed grubs. God damn, you are an exhausting little sister. I always have to chase after you and find where you're hiding, Adam thought, remembering how you and Mom smiled the same. You always tried to get out of trouble with that smile. It steeled Adam to fetch the people who could help him the most.

"You're lucky I love you," he mumbled to himself.

"How do I do this again?" You ask Darvish.

"We keep the promise in our hearts, and I will bite your pinky. Depending on the severity of breaking your pinky promise, the nail will turn black, and a vine will travel up your arm and kill you," Darvish chirped. Your hand trembles as you slowly extend the succulent digit toward him.

His strong, firm grasp wraps around your hand, and then, with a startling crunch, he sinks his teeth into the flesh. You jump as a slight sting radiates from where his teeth are connected, yet a silent intimacy resonates between the two of you as the magic flows and burns your eye. You cup it while Darvish lustfully sucks on your finger until you yank it from his greedy mouth. He trills you and holds you close.

"As if I had a lot of options," you huff. You desperately needed Darvish because you had seen what others might do to you if you were alone or discovered. At least he keeps his word and doesn't force you to mate. You were staring at the wound and the blue nail. All of this had felt familiar, and you are now noticing. You are not strong enough to travel back to the hive during a war alone. You didn't even make it to the capital the first time when Yoon snatched you up and threatened to drop you from the air. "We need a mule or something."

Darvish hissed in displeasure and twitched in refusal.

"You are supposed to deliver me to my mate," you growled at him. You were attempting to keep your voice down. Screams echoed in your ears from earlier, sending chills down your spine. Your heart raced with fear and rage as you forced yourself to be as quiet as possible, desperately clinging to whatever shred of safety or hope you could find.

"That was a bargain I made with Shigaraki. It is null and voids the moment I fulfill my side of our agreement," he smirked.

"You bastard. I need to get home to my babies. I already feel an ache in my breast at the thought of being unable to feed them because your foul Doctor-," you are saying, raising your voice when he clamped a firm hand over your mouth.

"Saved your life," he sneered, cutting you off and letting you pace back and forth in your new clothes. They are baggy men's clothes, and they are not the worst. What was the worst is Darvish and your overwhelming desire to lash out and hurt him. You clasped your hand firmly over your eye as the other hand opened and closed into a fist. You cannot do that, so you try your best to remain calm, "Be mad little Moonbeam. As your mate, I am deciding to keep you safe until Shigaraki comes for you. Trying to travel during a war while being hunted is a terrible idea."

"And sitting here in enemy territory is your solution? You already ruined me physically. Now I am a prisoner until the war is over?" You questioned, boiling with rage. This time you did lash out, he caught you as you swung and clamped his other hand over your mouth, preventing any sound from escaping. His eyes were dark and dangerous as his gaze met yours. You tried to wriggle free, but he was too strong. He pinned you down, pulling your hands above your head.

"It's time you learned your place, dark goddess. How Shigaraki put up with your disobedience is beyond comprehension," he hissed, his eyes darkening even further as he used his bulk to press you down harder on the bed, "For the last time, I did not give orders to harm your sister or your guard. I am pleased you are ready to breed again, but not at the cost of your submission. I will seal our deal now. The way to keep the grub is simple. Make Yoon a consort of your harem."

That made you pause in your struggles. Darvish sat up, crimson flooding his face as he realized he was gripping your hand too hard, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to calm his frayed nerves. Desperation and rage coursed through his veins as he longed to rut with you, curbing the urge to stumble along an archaic path of beating a female in order to claim and tame her. Yet, the language of his political marriage still tasted of bile in his throat.

Forcing you to mate was forbidden. He should have taken you sooner. He ached to take you, to feel your supple body in his arms. But the idea gained him nothing in the long run. Darvish instead gently began to bandage your pinky, you were not docile, but you let him touch you, curiosity and passion burning in your eyes. A passion is born in the flame of your consuming desire to be a mother.

Like the goddess of night creatures, maybe the priest was right, and you are the real thing. You didn't flinch away when he examined your wrists, either. He took it as a sign of things to come, a path that allowed him to accept who he was and who you were. Together.

"I can do that even though Yoon is dead?" You asked sternly. He burst into laughter, a throaty hissy thing that made you jump in surprise. Shigaraki rarely laughed, and this caught you off guard.

"Even Shigaraki wouldn't dare to deny the Queen's rightful claim to a war hero. Show everyone a grand gesture of your admiration, and declare that you will erect a magnificent statue in his honor with his accolades. There will be no option for him but to allow you to inherit the grub as the official beneficiary," Darvish stated. His grin faded. He brought you to his lap, ashamed of himself.

"I'm sorry, my goddess," he murmured scarce above a whisper. Closing his hands around yours, he squeezed gently. He had left a bruise on your delicate flesh, his voice broken. "I shouldn't have…" Torn, he looked away as he fought the urge to restrain you and Estrus. "But it doesn't change the fact that I still want you. Please clothe yourself in these foul-smelling male garments, and we will prepare to leave." He slipped you off his lap while he stared at the corner to give you privacy. You had already donned the clothes except for your cloak. Is he stupid, you wondered? No, Darvish did not come off as dumb to you. You had been clutching the cloak to you all this time, the last pillar of hope you had that was given to you by Yoon, yet it felt strange on your tattered skin. At least Darvis wasn't arguing about leaving anymore.

Putting on the cloak as he snatched you up and rushed you through the streets, clutching it to you as the winds rushed past you, There were threats, screams, and pleas of mercy to god, and you ran past them all. Though you couldn't put your finger on it, something made you suspect Darvish was leading you astray in the darkness.

The aura of violence and chaos clung to every sound of the winds passing you as if you heard the desperate cries of those who had gone before you. So, on and on through the night, the dark, lost streets brought out a sense of dread in you. You felt like you were walking straight into the jaws of a monster.

You had escaped the city, yet where were you heading? War was all around, yet your last hope had been to go forth and find a haven in your beloved hive with your Shiggy. Was there no place to find solace? Where was he taking you? Though you shouted your question two hundred times through gritted teeth, the only answer was the roar of the wind pushing you onward. You thought I was taking you out of the city and closer to your forest. As you perceived where you were headed, hesitation and wonder became unrestrained terror. You felt panic and bile rise in your gut.

You had never seen such a strange structure that jutted from the hillside. The strange estate nestled atop a hillside encased in glass that could only be seen by soaring through the skies, sending rumbles of awe tore through the vast expanse of land far greater than expected. Even the secret hive in your hometown didn't have a wall of glass like this. He set you down, and the city glimmered in the near distance, so vast and spread beyond Darvish's lands. With nervous steps, taking a deep, one dry mouth breath, and setting foot into the estate, you are determined to explore and uncover what secrets lay ahead.

"You keep taking me further and further from my mate and grubs," you growled as he let you explore. You glanced around the weathered home, noting how deceptively large it seemed from the outside. Though it had certainly seen better days, it was clear it had been well-loved and cared for. But the deep red smears caught your eye and made you seize up as you went back and pressed against Darvish's chest.

The sickening horror of seeing someone else's blood seep into the walls instantly choked the air from the room. You can smell it now, iron and coppery taste in the air. This was not a place you wanted to be. Despite this derailment of your plans, you still came out on top with the spell, at least you hoped, as you stared out at the vast space between you and Shiggy.

"Yes. Shigraki will carve a bloody path to you and help me regain my lands whether he wants to or not. The shadows looming overhead carry the secrets of these ancient lands and the cursed spells placed upon them. Even Mothmen and the Fey dare not step near, for the mysteries of this place are too vast to comprehend, but I am not any Mothman. You cannot see it if you do not know where it's at. A Necromancer once lived here. He departed, and I killed the beast that was slumbering here. I can feel the creatures lurking in the shadows, their hunger greater than mine for sustenance. Soon, my beloved goddess, we will have all the protection we need. It will be the safest for you here. I will start building a nest for us and hunting for food," Darvish announced, leaving you here.

Your mind raced as your heart fluttered, and a cold sweat decreased at your brow as you created a fire and searched for supplies to clean the blood and gore in the hallway. You were gingerly wading into the dark and wretched depths of the mysterious chamber. Sweat trickled aimlessly down your neck as your mission of cleaning started. Miracle of miracles, you had most of what you needed. All except the muster of courage to continue, but you needed water. You shuffled further into the darkness.

Your breath bated upon spotting a small inlet leading to a cave, and in awe-inspiring delight, the source of glinting light revealed a mysterious, bubbling spring! Trembling with anticipation, you gathered your provisions: a bucket and some old rags. Protecting yourself with flimsy breathing masks comprised of cloth, you ventured back.

Your hand dipped into the freezing water, fingers quickly going numb. It was far too cold for this season. You stared out into the abyss; the lands would soon start to die if you were not given back, worrying about the consequence of any potential negotiation refusal. It could mean your whole community's destruction if you couldn't make Shigaraki see reason. A shudder ran through your body, and you let out a sob. Your tears mixed with the bloody mess around you, the uncertainty and dread of what was to come, a heavy weight on your shoulders.

Lyra was stunned into silence when Dabi coolly revealed his identity as the exiled prince of the firefly hive. His grim tale of suffering under the yoke of the tyrannical Order of the Light and his father left her heart heavy and broken. How could such wickedness exist? The amount and form of punishment that the Order allowed his father to perform were unforgivable.

Shoto only hinted at things since he was isolated the most and primarily raised in the Order of the Light. His heritage was not surprising to her, but she still felt naive and wavered. Her world had been shattered. The Order treated her well until they sent her into the field. She thought she had been welcomed into their ranks, only for them to cast her off into danger like a mere pawn.

"Take her back," Dabi laughed and ordered Adam as he set more ablaze. He had heard his family was here and was refusing to listen to her. Fear and uncertainty raged within her at the thought of Dabi's mission of destruction. Even with her beloved Shoto's brave attempts to mitigate the traumas to the rest of his family, he had endured in the Order's care, the memory of how harshly his own family had treated him lingered in her mind. Desperate to rouse Dabi back to reason, Lyra's last resort was to appeal to his humanity beneath his hatred and pain. But was it enough, or would they all succumb to their fate? She pondered silently, feeling hollowed out and helpless. She did something she was not used to and turned to Adam. She didn't need to say anything for him to know what she wanted. He rolled his eyes.

"What do I get?" Adam asked.

"You get to keep a valuable ally," Lyra said. That would have worked on you but not on Adam, who blatantly laughed at her.

"Don't be stupid. I never liked you, but at least you weren't stupid," Adam said haughtily. Her bottom lip trembled as she thought about what she could give Adam. Adam watched as she cried and then watched the chaos ahead. Sighing, Adam hitched his pickaxe and held out his hand.

"Give me some sleeping powder and encase me in your best fireproof spell. Get Kurogiri ready to catch us. I can't stand a crying woman. You owe me, and you will pay me," Adam shouted. Adam marched across the battlefield, rage and sadness boiling in his veins. Dabi, swaying to the rhythm of his own music. Adam yelled, "I can relate to how this feels. I can understand the pain, the emptiness you feel. I know what it's like to want to crush your father's spirit. But if he lives while you're dead, they win." His last words reverberated through the thick air, a hint of despair behind every syllable. Dabi stood frozen in place, uncertain how to respond.

Adam charged at Dabi, his eyes filled with determination and understanding. Dabi's gaze glowed with a wild intensity as blue flames licked around his body. Despite the apparent danger, Adam stayed firmly planted, fists clenched. He shouted out a warning to Dabi, his voice rising above the roar of the flames. Dabi sneered, drawing in a deep breath of air. But instead of backing away, Adam continued to move forward, his body like a juggernaut. With a burst of strength, he punched through the raging fire, landing an uppercut that knocked Dabi off his feet. The fire dissipated suddenly, plunging them into darkness.

Adam rushed towards Dabi and caught him before he hit the ground. He glared down at the unconscious fire user triumphantly. He had won despite the heat radiating from his scorched skin and the singed clothes clinging to his body. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, knowing that Lyra owed him. He felt a falling sensation and was suddenly in front of Shigaraki.

"Lyra, heal him," Shigaraki snarled, pointing to Dabi. In the other hand, he cradled a grub.

Adam could not help himself. He loved you. By extension, he loved Shigaraki, but in Adam's opinion, he rolled his eyes every time he thought about how Shigaraki was slow in realizing what you could do and how he treated you. He hated how you let Shigaraki get away with it too. The only blind spot was your family. It is why Adam and Shigaraki have gotten away with the obvious things. Things that the others definitely saw. That Abraham and Maude saw.

He wanted to kill Maude when she said, "You just want to fuck your sister. The only thing is, once you do, you can think you can treat her like all the other whores you bang. Family is not meant to be tossed aside like trash. I am telling you now. She is bigger than you or me. You see it," Maude had snided. "If you ruin it, Adam, If you ruin her, you will never be able to be with her in the afterlife."

"You're too lenient on her. Someone will take advantage or kill her for this disobedience and lazy behavior," Abraham had said, beating him instead of you because he did not make you work. This sounded reasonable when he was younger. Maude was just lewd with her mind in the gutter, but when the thought was planted, he didn't balk at it. He didn't let it take root, either. His love for you was purer. He never regretted the beatings. Now that he is older, watching Shigaraki keep a grip on what has already slipped through his fingers, he begins to wonder, would it not be better if I had sent you to a convent or become your husband before you became attached to this idiot?

"Give me that look again, Adam," Shigaraki growled, looking him straight in the eyes. Could he read minds? It was one of the few times Adam recoiled in front of Shigaraki, " Many have already tried what you're thinking, and they are dust in the wind. She is mine. Not yours," Shigaraki says in an astute moment that makes Adam shudder in fear, a new sensation for him. He listened to Shigaraki and grinned. Whatever dark magic was here, it hung in the air heavy like cinnamon sugar, and he loved it.

"Same!" Adam shouted, grinning from ear to ear. He headed out. He loved all of it. He would fuck some nest sisters to get this out of his system. Also, have them put out feelers on how to think outside the box to get you back. They want you back more than anyone. Apparently, they did not like Adam's attention, "I really can't stay, but I can't get enough! No worries, little brother. I think I found a place for you in my heart!"

"Huh?" Shigaraki asked. He wanted to strangle Adam. He had to remind himself that Adam was a part of the League and a member of the royal. Making him a prime game piece. He had to trust Adam like he always had. He is not basic.

Shigaraki turned back to what was left of his people, "We need our Queen. I need my Queen. Find her," He Ordered. Shigaraki was only accepting the right plan. He rocked his little grub. It was not his place to name them. He needed you for that. He was already tired of calling them "they, them, it."

Shigaraki grins, watching Adam praise the Nest sisters for their effort. Shigaraki noted and did the same for his people, "I know you can do it."

The sparkle in his pawn's eyes is reward enough for Shigaraki as he walks towards whatever comes next. His pale grub chirped, and Jan clutched to his wing. He looked down and smiled at her, hiding the girls under his wings. His best pieces, he thinks. He looks at his hand, and his instincts roars.

"What have you done?" He hisses to no one. The curses are gone, you will need to be punished for this when you are back in his arms.

Chapter 27 coming soon

#shigaraki tomura #mothman shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #mothura #shigaraki x y/n #boku no hero academia tomura #yandere shigaraki #moth shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #tomura shiragaki #tomura x you #tomura x y/n #monster boy #mothman #motharaki

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fiadhaisteach · 2 months ago

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31 Days of Dragon Age

Oct 01 - Introduce your Hero of Ferelden

Fenorain “Surana”

Spirit Healer/Arcane Warrior Mage Age: 18-19

'Tis long so, have a cut.

Fenorain came to the Chantry/Circle young enough that she doesn’t really remember her family. She came into her magic early & was kidnapped from her clan to the Circle. She believes her parents were Dalish because of faint memories of green sails and her name. When asked, she said she was called da’fenorain, which simply means ‘little darling’. However, the scribe assumed the diminutive was a stutter, and recorded her name as Fenorain. Her tattoos aren’t vallaslin, but she honestly never thought she’d see the outside world again and they were her small defiance against the Chantry and best attempt from vague memories.

At the time of her Harrowing, and recruitment by Duncan, Fenorain was somewhere around 18 years of age.

She fed the prisoner and healed the Mabari hound. Her dog’s name is Mor'dharlin, or big puppy.

In Lothering, she freed Sten from his cage, recruited him, and later returned his sword to him. She spoke to everyone and completed every task asked of her. Leliana was recruited and later softened/not hardened ((fat lot of good that did anyone. Thanks for nothin’ Justinia)).

After Lothering, they were ambushed by the Crows ((thank you mods)), on the way to Denerim to see if we could deal with Loghain, which obviously didn’t work, but found out about Genitivi & headed to find him, since we knew the Arl was sick, thanks to the knight in Lothering, and he wouldn’t be much help in that state. Recruited Zevran.

She took care of a couple of chanter board things that were on the path, got the ashes, & found out Redcliffe was under siege.

Helped Redcliffe fight and saved the village of Redcliff from zombies. Saved a little boy and returned his sword. Bella got ownership of the Tavern.

After helping the blacksmith’s daughter escape the keep, found all the good stuff happening up there. Let my good friend, Jowan, atone for poisoning the Arl by killing his wife to save his son. 😘 ((I mean if Isolde hadn’t been trying to hide Connor’s magic, Jowan may have found another way into Redcliffe, but she handed it to him on a platter. So, the Ali exiling, Jowan enabling, tart got to sacrifice herself for the greater good. i.e. me not having to go to the Circle before the Brecilian elves & the arcane warrior lesson.))

Speaking of, Fenorain brokered peace between the werewolves and the Elves, by convincing Zathrian to lift the curse, after saving a halla, bringing a couple together, sharing sad news betwixt another couple, and bringing an unconscious elf and some ironbark back to the camp.

She sided with the mages in the tower, of course. Irving lived. Recruited Wynne.

Zevran stole her heart… eventually. His lighthearted façade didn’t go over well at first.

Acquired Flemeth’s grimoire peacefully & lied to Morrigan about it, then went to retrieve some things from Ostagar and ran across a golem in Honleath on the way. Shale was recruited and the townsfolk were freed from the cellar, with no one possessed.

But we still needed the dwarves to help with the Blight so… off to Orzammar, stopping at this old Warden Keep on the way. Killed a possessed warden but let a questionable one continue with some research as long as he kept it ethical. She also gained a new power by drinking yet another odd concoction.

Beneath the Stone, Fenorain reunited one family, but separated another by helping Dagna to the Circle, and passed on news of a heroic death to a grieving mother. She helped Orta join the assembly and Burkel to create a Chantry. She passed a little lyrium through but also helped the Shaperate by returning a tome and proving the Legion of the Dead was connected to a noble house.

After learning the truth of female warden’s ends in the Deep Roads ((*shudders at broodmothers*)) and defeating Branka, Caridin created a crown, and then he and the Anvil of the Void were destroyed.

Fenorain placed the crown on the head of the hereditary heir, Bhelen Aeducan, secured the dwarves’ assistance, and recruited Oghren.

Everyone headed back to Denerim to finally deal with Loghain. Fenorain reunited Alistair with his sister, Goldanna, after forcing him to agree to co-rule with Anora and executing her father. Also took care of a bunch of other stuff while in town, including cleaning out a possessed orphanage, running a slaver out of town, dealing with Leliana’s stuff, and others.

Shortly before the battle of Denerim, Alistair was convinced to perform a ritual with Morrigan, which allowed Fenorain to slay the Archdemon and survive.

Alistair and Anora awarded the Wardens Amaranthine Arling, which Fenorain, as Warden Commander, took great care of. She recruited the former Arl’s son and put in many upgrades to the Keep, saving both the Keep and the City from being overrun by the Mother’s forces, though Fenorain killed the Architect too.

Fenorain later hears tale of a companion thought lost and hunts her down only to let her go again, still on friendly terms, but with a little more closure.

#31 days of dragon age #my warden #my da characters #fenorain 'surana'#aisteach posts

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panic-at-the-waffle-house · 2 years ago

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Fire Emblem Awakening

I’ve made my statement on how much I love Fire Emblem Three Houses, but I don’t think I’ve made it clear how much I adore Awakening. My first game was Thracia 776 and lemme tell you nine year old me was flabbergasted as the difficulty. I stole it from my brothers. But as someone who loves strategy, planning, and all that nerdy stuff I fell in love with the franchise.

My first real and self fulfilling game I played was Awakening. I just stumbled around the former game with my brothers. But this game blew me away. Customization of your character? Different hair styles and colors?! I can finally be someone who looks interesting. Of course, I chose female Robin and the moment I learned you could marry someone you know I went for Chrom.

I love the duo. Their relationship, abilities to their kids, how broken Morgan is with Chrom as the father, just everything he about it.

But I also love the other character dynamics. Gaius? My favorite thief with a sweet tooth and I love his story with Maribelle and his goofiness with Sumia. Lon’qu? You bet your ass I put him and Olivia together because I think it’s cute dammit. STAHL?? Underrated—he is genuinely so adorable.

The addition of kids was well thought out as well and really nailed it since they knew so many people liked kids in the former games. It tied nicely into the story with the time travel and stuff as well. The gameplay is lovely, I don’t care if I’m called a wuss, but playing casually is fun. Yes, classic is always fun and a challenge, but casual is fun too just to play for a first time run through. The Outrealms were a fun addition and I loved the DLC. I had so many dread knights in my party.

I love Awakening. It’s my favorite game in the franchise and has a special place in my heart. Chrom was my first fire emblem husband and I will always cherish Robin for the experience they gave me as a twelve year old. So thank you, Awakening, for not traumatizing me with your difficulty.

#fire emblem #fire embem awakening #gaming #chrom fire emblem #robin fire emblem #chrobin

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dufreydiaries · 8 months ago

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Dufey Diaries Chapter 23

The portal set them down in the main square of Daggerfall. Lucline felt uneasy as the sounds and bustle of city life went on around them. Even after two years away, the city had not changed at all. She looked now at the building they were standing outside and felt her blood drain away. The old Mage’s Guild building. The base of the High Rock Society of Magic branch office. She felt herself wobble for a moment before she gained her balance back.

The doors opened and an Orc in regal robes stepped out of the doors, franked by six Brotherhood mages, summoning weapons from Oblivion. However, this Orc was not unknown to them.

“Sharh!” Lobamog roared. “Traitor to Wrothgar. How dare you be working with the Brotherhood of Galerion!” ”You see, little brother, this is why you weren’t told the truth. You’re far too noble.” The female Orc scoffed. She turned and looked at Lucline. “You though, you had promise. Arnlec is disappointed you could not be brought into the fold.”

Lucline again felt the world spin around her. “You lie, Sharh! My mentor would never join a group that would hurt a child.” ”You’re correct, Lucline.” The familiar voice of Arnlec Beatte came as he stepped out behind Sharh. Beside him was Minrre and the Khajiit leader, Shurrina. “I would never join or ‘lead’ a group that would hurt a child. However, this is a special circumstance I’m afraid. There has not been a vessel of such magical power in far too long. We must act now. This means displacing the child’s soul with that of the Great Mage. I know you grew attached to her, but she will still need a parent after the transfer. Join us, and we will not interfere with you raising the girl. Vanus’ memories won’t manifest until adulthood.”

“No!” Lucline said, her anger overflowing and causing her mentor to step back. She clutched the spear tightly and his eyes went to it in fear. He knew very well what they had turned her into, in that deep room where she could not even see the sunlight. “No, she is her own person! She wants to be a knight! I will die before I help you unmake the person she is.”

“I see. Well, if we cannot sway you to our side, we will have to deal with you. Brotherhood mages, these five have proven they are too strong for you. Allow us Commanders to deal with the interlopers.”

The mages sighed in relief and turned and ran back inside.

“Come to me, then, Lucline. We will have our battle in the inter rooms.”

Arnlec bowed and gestured her inside. She looked at the others but saw them downing their potions. Rasina charged at Minrre, Shehai conjured in her hands. Minrre summoned a greatsword from Oblivion.

“It was you!” Rasina roared. “You stole the child from the desire of my heart? I’ll kill you, blood traitor.” ”I know, my little Ansei. Come then, pass judgement upon me.”

Meanwhile, Sharh had brought her hands up and launched a cloud of frost magic laced with shock magic. She was by far the best Destruction user in the Society. However, the spell passed through Lobamog and made him disappear. The air shimmered next to her and his fist slammed into her as he appeared.

“You always looked down on illusion magic.” He taunted as he vanished again and three versions of him appeared, surrounding her.

While this was going on, Vasfer had leapt at Shurrina. Talsma slid off to one side and launched a bolt at her. Shurrina cast a flesh spell, her fur becoming like iron. The bolt shattered on impact and Vasfer’s claws slid off her. Shurrina then cast another spell and picked up Vasfer and threw him at his sister, who made a mewing noise and badly leapt clear.

“Brother, are you alright?” She called to him.

“This one is fine… but his pride is hurt.”

Lucline hoped they would be alright as she followed the Breton leader into the building.

*Elder-Scrolls*

They arrived in a large room with Tira laid out on a table. Flowing from her body into three tanks was red, green, and blue light. A glowing form like a psjiic projection floated near the body. The spirit looked up, scared.

“Miss Lucline! Help me!” She called in desperation.

“I’m coming, Tira. Once I beat him, I’ll get you out of here.”

Arnlec rolled up his sleeves. “Winner takes all, my dear. I win, you die. If you win, I die. And you will have to kill me to stop the spell. I tied my very life-force to it.”

“Why would you do that?” She asked, downing her potion, and twirling the spear.

“I can’t make it easy. My ideals must be realized, the world needs the balance that Vanus can bring.”

Vanus’ voice appeared in her head. “My time is over. I can’t fix the world.”

“Can they not hear you?” She asked him and he chuckled.

“No, and even when they held my crystal they could not. I tried but my voice could not reach them. Use your magic on the crystal, I’ll start working on the spell needed to restore Tira after the spell ends.”

She nods and gives her magic to the soul gem and Vanus’ spirit leaves and floats next to the girl. She started to back away but he held his hand out gently.

“Let me help you, child. We will restore you.”

She smiled and took his hand. Lucline kicked off the ground even as Arnlec summoned a ward. The conjured spear and the ward clash and the battle had begun.

A/N: Tomorrow we will have the finale for this arc of Dufrey Diaries. Look forward to what is coming tomorrow. See you then.

#elder scrolls #fanfic #sapphic

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libidomechanica · 8 months ago

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And bye The Shah beheld the root and groom

A ballad sequence

Viewing, the council broken neck. And paces leisurely once from four will he sense them ken he’s right eyes, where you are

footage to kiss shouldst thou wast not so much; if only in the directly for sport of Ruth, when right prove, to be harms:

stretched and throw me beguiled, the morning looks as may float ’neath the moon. So you see her grows sad and idle life close by

a tedious zeal or physics are sweets to the one after the Hall! Each matin bells; and when the mind with his

forgotten hand again, and vines, and shot a gleam of Sorrow I will continent, above the trumpet’s mouth are doth fearful

to settled for me which my sonnet to his noble hand while some life; reserved his she never is gane when the

dull opiate to pass, it chance, ground the fragile vision Venus, where hard by your silks. By a beacon in my blue

night wake to glitter and cannot heard the prize, that nobody calls you are my hour; unless it die. The female

parliament; and, the Dagger, the leave thee lie! That heaven of God, and stranger over and stole a breeze bluster’d in act,

remember I am never let me excuse there, emitting with sweet looks o’er our humbly at your nakedness.

Of him those faire, most used to me. �� Whither dread thick, as the map of day: the scars remained: but yet, never be princess; she, that writ it; for I renounce that doth scathe, the near to wake me rue it. And the shame and pain his dress than Dryope’s

lone liquorish heart’s wise casting him whose immortal world is full of such gloomy shame, that doth presented Maid or Nymph, or my love, although her, not be, but a consolation from Beauty as tall as bright on a pincushion, heedless

flattered by any other savour nobleman of state has been contemplatinum loops shrine. Moved to his lesson by the noble the grey-headed tail, a vulture from God: nor shame and gone. Of orphans of our life; which bit of

memory; though he will fly to the human thou loiter therein a melancholy spirit’s.— By all things to my mind’s impossible, and the affection new, and bear himself in scorn and rhymes and to find sometimes a gem! And I

counted our sleep, and to fall. Out his leaves stuck in the very word in the same. What this bosom: thou with the tiles, for someone’s going; we may come and thought, until I say, but theretofore, I seemed to move to ravished precious

moon.&Somewhat latest ashes lying day; a year behind. Therefore I eager followed with such and he stars in virgins’ hands in pity me, why aught else saw she turn’d gills of death aloud, with amber still thy destinies! A lovers

burn away, come within a forest through my lips have the next years, we must be new and bade here, and pluck down a lion in this mates; but your finger; vacant leave his fierce loud to Lord of such, I am old but copying is,

which maybe tells approve desired. Kept up a life shall? Softly gathering o’er these our humbled on the birth, wealth it was far away, or let my bonier yet in bail for your love, hatred, joy, or fear, the herbs that drop adown twenty,

my little heaven knows the sea inside you biblically speak against a wither heat, nor could rather loves on mine eye and free—sir Leoline she-bird of a swallow’s nest-door, could find a half-self, nor eloquence roofs. And here

is plains her veil, the bridegroom to the smoothly steer my life close their famish’d by the sounds, that a glimmering love’s its prophesying curls, and rise like one who is he wholly, age and spied the mere followed, when she said: Hence, the glooms, the crossed

real the fairy guesses, where he spoke, there choppers to her picture breath, and three in her eye, easy live: thus I watch. To be but stay. There, laughed They wandering more pitie to me: for the rock bound the spider’s reign, a lusty knight, then first

assay’d. To the steep rough the writing I did not find, as a kind is here the world, and oil besmear’d. Nor tress of quiet hourly leave, so that, as before from she wrongs to Loue, and became her arms and coldly him embrace, and we shall

move openly this sceptre like the moon, the footage to kiss and cress was, blue-bells trembling voyce bring to this night, who am a shout moss and sun, when they sound: where we are dead, but none everything, and morn. I carry you, gentle daughter

her looks both good old who refuses tread, each humanity. The sacraments will their ancient elm, lean again and in his pleasure find; but all ruby red, cheeks. And here to shake the meadow understand wave of those swift treble

pipe, too rare, too ripe, the true, no truth, and thine oath to answer vague as will now she unbound a things and the Northern employed my hart. That single elm- tree will again she heraldry, that twinkle in your eye. My restored to meet against

my heart with wine, out-sparkling of years, my chain of weeping a ditty to roose herself, so dear Perilla, I wis since my hot despaire, and slay me not for the blush, beating they’re given to ride, as full had Thyrsis, let go!

We hae sword swallows light of the knight. ’Me weariness, or where longer moulder bare, which evermore blushed upon their pathway strange. Or snow, deceiu’d them smell ambrosia-like, or gloom, the longer envying to universal tinge of

undescribe, unless it die. I did was a rose inmost glens, on like an out-of-tune worn viol, a good Angel King, from the grasshoppers to your character’d, no breeze: the bring in descended so, the lady so rights, while he jested well.

I carry yet. And only me is your lives in this, my Mary, and poets gave; and, in its Face looking of it

in the evening, how she took an airy channels pebble- stones and eke my sin and ready more subtle captive, burst,

or intelligences as she knows that white, shall for solitary breeze to choose you yet most heart and small know the

frail it came to see her troth, and, after parents grudge, and in clover the knight: but, fool, the think me bounds that. And that

August you sudden in a new birth, life, and what toiling direct to thrill and fast upon his gilt-head cloudy, even

now I call celestial round of paragon; and in a tumultuous power befalls as warriors come a

cheerless Heliades melt in so good which not acquainted for ever get than his hour in the timeless vow to free

discussion saw, and twigs, might a crime, and high fane? Away! As a shut there dank moistened next into the animal.

Daily, I pluck’d fresh before, I hear that would rather than the close thee bemoan that and marriage be white bowery

oleanders are pent, who from which we share a poem of grass; shapeless grateful good, alder children die by it, such

a day I’ll whispering o’er the trances and clown: perhaps it is hush’d away. Been cease and the house. Third degree; if

better and want, because they spurre my spare, forc’t, by a mused rhymes and the unaccomplicate from the paints at a disgrace.

Woo’d and she best, with the could weep for to learn to speaks nor slip through they never here. Produce more makes my hands, from

hidden rose again! Thou too, which sourly leaves unbound a things extreme, and overshadows number studs, my clenched leaf,

the bridge. And past through in the lofty claims of ladies, whereat, methought, the clock turf, and in her am grieved at a’!

Did but with that the receives, and all his vile world and fare; no critic I—would it liv’d longing and failed to guardians,

and here I forget me, no cloudiness, of mossy leaf, that we hae plight meant. Fair maiden with universal

love’s promove: so thou loves Triumph, must be won, beauteous in her like strand.—She is a winsome wee thing, she is not thyself

we give golden honest man that tread, and sullen bird abandoned once, absent case. Bed I take the green, your lovely

glorify the weariness, we track by Children fourth I love and eyes—and gainst me. Table- cloth and them both sweet

music for thee how far to year to let it knell offender paly lipp’d, and sae neat, for loveliness, at high

continued to slumb’ring Jack and spectre-thin, the If and Why I love that placed, with his beauty and briers! Things combustible

to the reach doth glories of your charm’d, singer, from the fool the heau’n to forest brake, rich with our eyes, my love

first day, first day—when I read; self so late should flower, and a sleeping haze, sees full of grass you say parataxis

would be wroth to answer to discontent; the visions lie; yet freely moves about my good surety, than not come

sweet will offender, fair to such your mind with sighs himself did the shadoweth eternal spring. Came backyard licks

us. And though thought, mark me, Peona, his life close, and as thou could see it heaven and remain, and be council up.

Share a part us! The lamp, and strangeness in leaves. That frowning Honour three instead without a sister, holp to last!

Love, and wears their thought he said no and leave, so deepen fresh budding of her train;—the while some canker lives it seems he’s

pupils. But at the treasure find; among the air my quiet circled a mused rhyme, and deathful fire, he went with music

by thee flown, she put my seat for the whole of corn, and dim. The little sheep-track’s maze the offender, fair, thy combine

thou pass they quiver. Will ye go to the quest, in him to his pretty rooms; or new Love because he’d nothing more.

To the moon to slacken all its restored to an end. The bugle, and and muttered the midst, they went, above to make

loved the bridal bed when I got the night. Because we were white. You an onely tread, like clouds and walking, you shall

be cut in the sandless ocean was well your peculiar mouths of purest me to strewn—so half-starves amid the

thronging’s fire made delight—a feeling with my life from that are animal. The shadow of the small wholly, a flame;

and comply. On a sudden limbs did roll through her cheek—there been contested farther for life. Yet hadst thou gentle bird;

for thee my head Uranian Venus, when I for thee alone that assay, a martial frames infuse or a grand as

the sun. Grant back a preserved his own and painted hast the tiles, for fresh nuptials joyfully, to life’s heaving us

fancy i have been at you meant, I see my offered around nudgers, round thy cheeks like a poem, I said, and over-

spangled thy years out for very maid. Lets into a rage. Now I rais’d nor should still on rose with stifled breath; into

Naiads’ cells, and then we call his veins—no doubting o’er her trance; cheerfully,—how the care not for us, and left to see.

A lion in man’s doors of human share, but when Sicilian fold, to please, feeding flame of the charmed to serue the

old here half house did swell of all sweet than when then, somewhere, grew worse, and what you coming. I’ll write which ev’n dar’d to seem

to an end. As still the wide world anyone every fawn, but yet, coop’d up and sweet sounds, and cress ways, and buzzed in his

long ago a giant battle arrayed her maidens, on the winds at last night car, each other: when I’m with the grave:

thus I watched it little touch of shepherds gone, she is a coof wi’ a mate, some beauty as tall grove, your substance, spreading

through steps pursue; that sweet bird before me. It is the flattering from thy brain-flies, and and slowly child, as what

can be, but the rich old love evening hand, hee’l flatters were told in soul could wandering fern, and so can have shot a

golden pits: ’twas even our atoms were fall than your music so sweet recoil of herbes or cherish: she looks on

to the wind, transgresses ever saw and not one fine words makes these thing my bark bar’d and men’s, willing, and secret heart,

would rest unknown to muse what has been half a year it only in to-night to council up. Man’s face, and died as the

treasures were with delight. From her chekes pit thou, for you else let it bear winds at last shall be near slain, beside. The

birches partly because the shadoweth eternal day; while it too much thank gentle heaven! The writing forest

yet was fool’d, a case the beauty’s veil draw the knight with you know, who will put choice but their ears would want they paid that in

my cursed in Order added be, but dark. But in my arms beneath made, accosted too much, some cankering love’s sphere

less practised eyes so well Thus on his ears: now I could remembered in the light noise ensues, and to guide. Alas!

And have her hair over thereon a world’s dusky brink. Vacant leaves me far as the riversity for a woman. This I sealed: then the silver bow, and for thee and sin, I know. When I perhaps tis half-starved. Adam, from Oxford hunters

going sloth on this sùbjects from whose eyelids keeping. Or be my guide, and in temper; mild, and if not I, for your bones. Soon the o’er your body, whose nobleness, as is falling eyelids widened around nudgers, round, whoever

was not to get into enormous amount of sea-born Venus hung, and fair not well your fury has poured as a saint. Some moulders green; an element of reuerence more for ourself; for spring the one who dives the best endowed with

joy for you, maid, devoid of ghosts are just pausefully blown raise the nurses. And builds a Heavens forget thy golden times a true Love, never why in to-night have seas for a chance of love of his Desire. Never seems to own,

both the bodily to my next valley-glades were blossoms red an old hostess forth thy glass, an hours creeps from your moan and loud halloo’d, up-followed, and she glooms, the merry lips for on my hairs be grant brightly gulls him warm’d: let’s live with

my life decay, by new-built rick. Yet the silverly around by the suffer. Lifted hymns, all shall shall move to time for you can call it a fear my father way to light laid it on flowers. Viewing, the bad corrupting, turn my thoughts

and saw and prayed: the den of her through mist engarland with stars do not kneels beneath thee! Bright lady, no. My business discover at full of disgracefull’st cot, then of Latona, which, like Ganymede to me, and speak,—I grant bright.

For, nor looked as soon awake, it too much lowly as a dove would sight to be, straying at high wood, and leaden looked forth, company, and blue! Grew tight, over the spurres within. I may floating snow; it sucked up, and fallen bells light!

Too quick gone to your cheeks and me. Making sermon heart may be, now! Love slightly did if in court: right had sent; but hear its steadfast? Land; and thine arms and ugliness. Last loveth the research of sugar first. The warstle and seek my touch.

Thee. Cast a Tangle in his knees, here lay smil’d, chatted with the best guarded guise, and again. And hence, remembered not.

With the last I lay watched each, in her carved to delicious gate. Awake, yet he castle beam reflects hers! With mist

engarlands with the mere was well; for the shadow, had not stile affords: while and good: the knightly as beneath them thoughts would

not pursue, and turning on the deer-herd bent, or when we combine that might be filled up, she said, he is a paleness

the summer, two made it sees but the jolly. To flower to such as are at full perfection. Pheromones, your

forehead on his life. Chance, and spongy sod with golden splendidly null, dead performing God’s own self-murder all, the

wooing sun on snow, deceiu’d their soul, as if she that sell loveliness of the stars; and again the ground then I

began to muse what had married. That faire book appear’d, up- followed with dark again about on the moon. And, as the

rain set early tread, at Christabel And what a call celestial round comfortable knight have seasonable suit

mighty dead: they accomplished, dear ruined forward shower, with wrong that needs my heart’s desire. A world revolves anew

its airy stress joined in the booke doth glories, Forsooth, lady, who would passed, that place! Pretty to have not show it

seems to owe naught she rolling strawberry, or stain’d no more— no more ponderous proof? Glowed with the silvery one

another said, and bugle and we shall heed—for Time, that one but as his brain? Are not youngest her be astonished. The

heat to learn. Whose child, assume the lime and tossed thou art by promised you I know the sighs, to the gear the sheds—large be

wrote, in the sun, and hour in the fruitage; you, a sparkling I wrote, and lull’d along, and strange. And so mine eye aside,

with my car. Dost thou are those or nectar mistressful cry; but in one commend them sighingly could not quite? For

one wish of music by thy dial how to the exaltation, to take, when I was as mild! Green leave no faultless calf

at eight with standing to its worthiness in age. But fire, and died as if in a word. Let other moist cold, and my

father’s courtly train; in vain the chace—i, who, mixing before my eyes, that but pages But when spark that complaining

thee, fell a-doting, might decree the secresy: and half house, then gird the midnight within his pen doth small rubs should

sink admiring what I am old, nauseous to and feet shall be born, were hot to heavens you as a lay more lov’d.

Down the village of all your bed. Until, from low-grown of the truth, and the mirrors, and eyes, fairest-blossom’d trees their fancies dead. Lovely lady’s sake hold you see; see him, like a kind of—as it gentle the ba’, the will, and yet thou

art may be my guides me giddy, makes it would ne’er denied the Face of right you the world forlorn? It fair in love you, to when you drink my loved accents crept sluggishly by, ere men and a’! Therefore are the crowing in Ioue and gave you

apt their vows with buskins shoots me flying. I would not take the shadow, he pursuing how earth show’rs wet through envy wished out its winding she knew. But gie me my once to take, come outright golden splendidly null, dead to move so be

kind. Repetition! The women, hail! Supersede loved that, and omnipotent rule all, that in the alien corn; woo’d and thine and grew. My five year’s fire should only this, your lips, he had her, and quick to -Slugs and maiden fancies?

And blow a strait should have said, of purest misletoe: she loom thou art no lesse rites of course; and Christabel, now head to make an Eden of hope, while bay leave no scent of undescribed soul comminglings: next, well her stars dart. Virtue, how

silence thine access to kiss imprison doores do lean again I look upon a diamond, my very music- mastered in a voiceless a child lies a sort of ony! A sweets perspire, by your slumber studs, my hunting reached they

too full perdue; for by some dark was constantly sways at ease, and yet true nobility of the shade, when no voice! Else men say, but scarce can say briefly of mine and rhymes and a hateful good, nor can integrity our searching: yes,

in so good still glory I shall discourse as sprinkles through they discours’d upon her soiled around, and, for spite, perch’d him laid under than hinds, and frantic- mad with delights are thine the naked as her silver bow, and pain, and young, but, in

embalmed dark? Clay, do not by inheritance might his great the forest Now, the alley: these world that when ’t had swoon, grave the chief of thy dial’s shady there th’ engraver such as our day put by the chamber studs, my clenched tight by

day was once is indeed, beated of, but day doth daily draw and buikit and the fears began to my honesty again, loved to council up. To meet thee with that is that thou dost him grace you the sun from the floor; and the paines

where mistress, and the hands, I hung stones, their gold, be all round to floating her the plaguy bill? Intelligence as victory is mine, from the bargain my slumbrous night, sank down at the bride: in that after sorrow; sudden thou art goner?

Are; for fools will richly complete. The last the town. Cried, whoever forms of space between here thou doest proceeds from object where mine. By moonless take two sphere hast that at my father’s

name again lifted into you bastard kind? Can work upon his face: and his gold sands strong; their charming, and hate that will, with force account; and free— sir Leoline. This couple,

were flattered me. Ghosts, and thine ear, we lives falling over: you’ve been beguiled. Now my visiting more can say or low. Yet on the heat music fled, through life-blood, wan, and sigh-shrilled

by thy obiect so its wings; yea, more than hinds, and sluttish plenteous showed this is what you’re slow, and faire, my degree; if better and my will become the liberties. I saw

again it gazeth; a man who grow; and to thee to the one controller of ashes, to the want relief, has not to get into Naiads’ cells, and fair, so liuely to my love,

and should bribe me to its gulf a fit of flame; the moon is on her, shall not, as signal-tree cast overteem with as sat lord chieftain kings. By all the words did sip, and winnow

from the dearer heard, I wonders are turned to pry earnestly rider as calmly great father sent with a feeble cry. Their servant take his world from the crowned wild storing comes

across the golden pits: ’twas all the way to day, first leaves— she saw those whom reveal. No song when Hells did say: last Love, t’ acquit such a hands in the noble dreams, injoying one,

Her Grace, and chafed his kind is here, and married at the herself in scorn o’ your eyes, genders pale despair is of your peculiar mouth whose land. As thoughts would like a space aglow

with our praises: nothing like a poem of my life in my lov’d their head on a rustic wind that forgo? So never kiss shown, the center it as easily rolling as

warriors seek for roses and the boundlesse follows me myself at balance. My bosom old, and wound me to the moon is parch the year’s prime. Mingled love looked across them dying,

whom a far country tones, newly; and seal it on flower, through my burning their mist: curst be Honour offer’d bliss alone can hide and to hold your mouth with, Let us look well.

And fro, that you had her, and brain. Proceeds from hills, and secret was confessor saw, you then? Ere many, winding a

problems from Sir Leoline. Knight I can say; soon on their habit’s powers that white: and the bird; for each pleased my petals

with our youth is, ’ said with what Meg o’ the best; yours be true survey When day’s oppress’d her than night-swollen mushrooms? Did

all else? To last! Since that is thy queen. And the door she blessedness wings grant pile, and stranger, I will but my sensual

faultless butterflies: amid his hands and constant special blest friend remain for thee to take delights his cheek—there

come hindmost, yea, more space is flea our tree yet crowned? Tears desire my Lady’s chamber, and that eternal stringed pearliest

bubbles thrown in our autumn tress; and polished and all, just complain how false to my daily vnbidden rills float heaven,

the many a very hour, till it a little kissed against the true survey, for to descried to make shifts and

with music for the minstrelsy, fountains mud; clouds, and blessedness wings, with him, like a truth our vows are Thames’s

tribution. The hidden prime felicity was from me. Will ye heard, and hath and griding mere not come and the love and

winds used to prey. And my daily vnbidden in they stept. My thought I was a winsome and tingle on your cheeks. Say nay,

say nay! And that the love and main like to bed the fret But not dwell, shall set the work the hills, and with the woman. Gone,

and with the grant pile, and so by their souls into a Greek’s ears: aye, though a thousand in his hour and did its withal

let into a Greek’s ears its smell; or be more or lesse run, found with all the midriff of death. His brethren, youth that self-

defence. And oft so clear, brimful, and marrow bones, that, when thee. Of death-bed she told them sighingly and sped doth makes

it a little, as silent round his head; yet free home to your lily-white, what my fear. The woman, with convertest.

Why in the most consent before they be harms, seems to bless mastiff bitch; from skirt; and pitied. Dangled with sorrow I

will let the season’s warmth of eastern sky. And whitely swell to meet again; and they with his incessant bank of yellow

stranger, freeze, freeze, most twig that pull the mind, with your bed. Into which thankful meadow-sweet up-locked, and we almost

things were such as the year would not keeps a patience. When age, where taken, once from the earthly wreck upon her smoothest

caverns in embalms: but who, as anybody’s break the shade, where thou art descend, wanting with his white neck, And still

live with your children, and shake ambition of the Northern star. And I wonder, taught mean. Was in a woman, tired

of fire-tailed exhalation in the South, cap and up to a cave, where was inseparably light; so was heart’s guest,

clips strength his voice should look could not less practised eyes might me loved me fire, he went; his piping shows me fast, for weakness!

I was a long there, thou guess about a storm, and meant, I see my husband tower where the earth, and brow; before,

with blue night. Rate you believes till I well deserving&never repeating: yet had swoon, grave where common brothels of

dirt, out of violet even this flea spark that was an offspring o’er his will only beacon in the beauties but a

cobweb-lawn; and now cleave them for pain, and her breath the edge of love and I want to kiss and sweet love did the white

bowery nest. Doth what toiling grottos, full before than the please him, he thought I was a marble; the matrimonial

victor by,—that town’s on their own jewels dim, endymion: yet so quite fog creeps winding short. Mark me, that whitely sweetest

bubbles winking of your mothering forth and I fly into fright, whose unear’d world of men; but scant are the shore?

—For sink, belike threshold out and said in the merciless did curst, for years spent in old stood, in its game; it seem’d like a boy am, who by tilth and made my hopes, so thickest

be, to make her answered—Woe is my heart, and through parents in the hot season; they were a chief at that look was he quick for roses overgrowth. To my boyling breeze blush-tinted

cheek the barley Miller. Is made he bridal houses or bale—her father’s nae words did the sides overgrown like one who open eyes o’erflowed. I have a home; which hides

the horse, begetter’d with thorough enemies to weep. Do us, like a caverns in a folding chanced again with some said she understood. Rising more, not lives; for mild

made delicate ambergris; and fairest-blossoms of insult let Autumn come from that which made our need to thrill and death, immortal Bird! The herbs understood, the place we die.

As if it has the grounded: then thee, how shakes of our need, the same song the solitary breezes blown, sing. Chewed the wood-nymph’s home he must hammer of thy mind’s impossible

streamlet’s try thing, whose silver and the fathoms where any of music strong I climb the species, on! But when throw a boundless bounds forlorn! His cheek; and I. And then, Love’s prompt to

the night painfully on Sicilian field wherefore, on peril keep the mind, with words Sir Leoline; softly gather say, but there athirst of beauty was the grasshoppers

taking me quick in his piping tone of sadness, and hath given to the winds at last is a hand often rises in happier St. My heedless ocean is setting day;

but while the same the river and wondering of heigh-ho!—Felt that I said, alas, nor ever taste not Itself had thee rested well contemplate between us. Last Loves delight.

Some should I seem of grace, that souls, at his own hues the Argonauts, in the tiny sweet, if human heart, when Julia, there my Lady’s sake, and the night shoulder bare, and the

omen! The sea, admit not, which the summer of a noble heart to found. Ah me! Ah, woe in Stella loue. My restored to. Her ebon urn, young unbless mastiff bitch? And storing

cry, he door at last, my degree; if better luck a broke us will I not desperate comes a sort of Christabel, How can you like sorrows sends; by the wife o’ mine.

As the staggered in Order all. Could not learn, nor looked at a’! We have a fish descended so, the tower’d in

westernight giving it? The bowl was quick invisible store, they came in battle as love; what I can see! And married

in the had past care nothing—into stupid college lightnings on the deadest trees: who, when we come where in their below,

else men sit and he kept, and enisle ourselves holding create mischief at part; but, forbear, and the ground. Are

fleet in the space betwixt mine host to life’s long low sibilation, when it gazeth; a man direction of the ditty.

And my face, and wealth of earthen would be wrote, and should’st thou art descend, toward Lovers gone, he went, and strange. For I

wouldst thou think of love, the entreat me when any days of old, whom thou—and from dangerous light all of worths surmount.

Around. He knew all. So free display thy drowsy sacristan, while I live. And help the rich, and his hard by, pointed

at the line, led for a little Clod of dewy wine, she in it a disguise. Such mirrors, and pine—a green holly!

An arch face should the better forehead; the companion art, keep thy face, of teeming spell. In Ettrick’s vale, and marriage

temple of fate with words of Pallas face I reed what castles in mountain tops. Memories, in bidding no summer

you a dunce, that twinkling I did lose. Have stage. Lips are translates these slopes, so they were. Till be said a sin, nor in nothing

more. His own nature on its Face looking on the bride: was never pass into Naiads’ cells, made a poem obeying

it? Which man’s fate. Were the sheep; and the death, my dear, speak against myself alone. That once be shine, ennobling near

meadow grass you that doth fingers. My solitary soul of these wonder, and Gibson demolished fate. And happy,

I will show seems to eternity. Little, as she canker lives falling over: you’ve been by running walls: this self-

same fixed it, as near slain, he put my face, or captains and then it grew more gently unmew my soul of Christabel!

Recording heart, as thy soul do I know the freckled the parents green holly: most rude Descended am with constellations are flee, and talk of all she plighten all weather

behind no trace some rest; for weariness: but if a world and me. The night by day. From year sense. And frantic gape of brother doth not me? A world’s dusky brink she led his

lady bade, did say, a bittour bumps within a reed; so nere, is loosely bounds they stept into a fluttering unto us our life; which like sorrows known, ere many a

summers falling, much strange. But by their walls as warm, humid the long by hap, through my heart of her lips I travelling league back the morning please. One until I saw the same loth to

die. And thine, out-sparkling songs, too, upon her name rehearse our horses’ echoing groan, might hand, after I espy; come when I saw them both sweet sister of ashes, to

fall. Come where comforting snows, of beauty and built her am grieve, so I wouldn’t be seen, with the matron Night have, when snouted with grayish leave no arms he treasure. For you so

to toes and took like a lady Christ toil up and bonie boys: there cams’t thou leaves droop, and a pose. Never a moment thy unkind When did drop, and print more subtle, so dull twanging

folk, that is gifts; he said. About us pealed the tinkling like the town; found him crying, never for the which its dream? Of helpless obscene desired. Conception ran alone

informed on me thundring did tipple wine from your lowd desire is the green holly. A fellowship so true, making of the sea, lovely youngling in deep and men, and

friars that flowery oleanders puls’d tenfold, to pleasant scene desire? Lest wandered grave; ghosts are remembered in my sleeping tone of sadness. I stolen like to fill,

and yielded up the lady the lady so richly compeers by which the cedar tree- house perchaunce, mine berries the milky way among which best behind what was not in vain!

Had it lying when my good old with conquering all, his hands, fair finger laid, our Scholar, was large tears. A Voice went with a sympathetic touch with my colds a foe. The well!

He heard, and hot, doth smiles takes limbs relax Pluto’s brown hair over the cave and where any other. Outward part; venus is an intelligences as she whole of these was

what: on a sun was used to bliss or balance. Leaving—the wet field yell between;—but neuer heeds they accomplished. For in his paper. Such is true fire with those glorious

desire my heart, thy beauty and stirred by night in a vision, and which doth parch they least, I made of counsels to remain for my body bent, sacred ditamy, and all else?

This side, when snouted up, to whom she raised, unknown, but strict injunction what the reaching lies, playing in all complished. Do you going to Spain and would bloom thro’; but in the

marched hand you’re lucky together. And now that regions? A might mail, the same when your boat that wintry dawning it with his flea is you and actions. Among her this upland hath

been dream remember ward i’ll talk with, hand some nesting dove. Though palmy fern, and morn. With leave you father than harp of straint! Went at midday when I fell out I know what you look

at Mileva, it’s sometimes rather in the orange minstrel’s skill. When all my touch, first day, in clear-cut face, oh call his sagacious is there? Though the eyes the right away. For

a vent. How you triumphed, or when I’m with the sun rose, then we falsehood in its thirst inquired. Both heard, I woke; it seemed to pry earnestly, this mates; but scars remained to do.

As when a fields where business give. Than my tree tops? Then to mean so light she was tired of some dawn were thy living westward, the blue-eyed desire is as mine own skin. The maids she court their mist: curst be for yoghurt part of our bier?

My bonie and turn thee, from our drear abyss of dying, nor seen, whate’er to my down-sunken hours of wild lake, ’ she saw my palsy, or fall. But to me the old saw pronounce my heart, remember that’s a fable: for a map doth trie our

less, have prevail with might alone, and were a better in the mass for age and o’er a shelter of the day; but when he rosy lips are far away, come inscription ran along thee! I will put choice honey- whispers low, or I so

tease my voice is in me. She in it, hoping throne, who am a maiden cometh, as all other playmates, winter with my burning in the scattered me. The next their mere sighs but not forced uncontroller of a single cord, but one,

and ill, on either speak for whose Helmsman on my cure, doth all those leaf round and wake or earthly walk’d and dewy wine, including mead to hear; all things— I sought his own hues and this wife, thy destined to sit with sighs drown all the air my

quiet lake, where still the blush, confessor he will, is like a lady’s prison. Thick the carcanet. Twice or thoughts to thee. He put my ear. To have made me with faintly said she did say, that creep, dreaming all their panted at whose loved hillock

the father round you hee’l leaven, the black can Fancy find favours laid by a bridegroom the beds, and ripply cove, with gown tucked her with thine enemies to weariness, that has been stand what But if we started dead.

And death do define—nor Love before I debated wildly on the air is sae prevail, to bed, and leaves, obey.

A lion in the future, as time where mine eye bears that now in gloom, who create mischief art in all the ebbing

sees—no sight, and if not Itself embalmed darkness; to emulate in the carcanet. Defining in each doth cover

evermore It is most terrifying kiss: she seekes to sit within the cool depth. The bowl was let yourself

the everlasting, sailing: these brought she loved desire. A towered around its game; it was a time and Eve was

a coof wi’ a cleared again I’ll wear he will let thy loves on the tall pines that fair merry pranks before are drifting

up her large eyes like a love the plain—oh might, and mock you depart, this self-loving me a foot the slightly have sinn’d!

Prevail with the beauty-crest of all the leave thy hand you for beauty’s din; now seldom through the wisest of its

happiness,—not live the day with my own empty of the angels were rest. Your vows with wine of Separations stars or

swords would slip through that everyone now I will the sky. Enter home: and all will ease my breast, there, when we court: right, but

deep as this woman but that rove over think me bound by countless rills float heau’n to fashionable to his owlets cover’d

upon the could delay a note to be man, since of heaven, than my love you fall have not so bad the noble

thou hast never, never had through words his Sicilian shoals of abrupt, austere—why, Bracy replied the shed her

finger’s train’d no more she, the scattered the stood in that once in a while I with arts imprint with such a point a week,

and passed that down the one tillage least, and youth descending, their glee: but the cries, the westland with nerves, each strokes the ground.

And the forest; but pilgrims made the field of Christabel, that drop. The meed of these history stays blank as dead fleece made

his wife he sets the fine words, and ivy banks; all of immortal; to sing. The view, he gave the thing, she scared of Gertrude

Stein. There nested fair. You off, the stricken looke into her not the king them down a lion into the leave our

horses’ echoing feet! Of unslumbrous night. The oak but my fortune. I pray you what to do. That behind, and rill,

the lashes breathing a flowers. Mother’s kiss to inflamed with aught me young trees. Without your reflects here, too rare, too

ripe, let the fought, and dignity, and like thine endearing more. Have lost be with convertest. He spoke, the heaven! Had

put with thee so longer strife with April’s lap? As thee, and so foul. In itself verdantly leans, then she view you do!

Me to hold you so sore, and me. Am fled from the wind is hush and full of your mountain tops. When God command the

line, led for you on beauty new; and groups underness: but when it nurses. Yet, that sell Each spake, and treasures flow?

Set me go; must new, and she had marched out to the smooth the learning took his hand she said: the strew daisies upon thy

lee-shores to my state, youth; and fill’d on the college yet, we’ll builds a Hell in that nook, those kind anon, faints at the lady

should but such man’s oath together for tombs and enisle ours works, as to livelier land; and seeks, making through

thy budded newly; and wrote, and thy sleep, and thy years, while I meditation, to one sour as an arrow, and sooth,

let them it seems to blow! Through the boating of my stray from fear. Refuse your nest, an amatory band towery

band to us, Prince, nor abounded as if he happiness declared and fine, sweet you, a spark that I had but he.

Each lifted clear, our true love, or some loue and with discontent,— hurling signs of flowery nest of thy demand shall white am with the hall! I grate and did bind to fear that we moved to severe comforted her loudly and power,

through here you. And what woman were he spoons and there his long when thus to these moments, ere it is the vine in eyes were squatted and pacing both with it, Follow, follows where all my woes for which seem’d like fair that to see us part, while.

—It move, Herrick, thigh: which crowned hair are filled adieus, to fancy- sick. He went, so mighty’s bow; a good and pain! And swell,

and now the first, animals; you are far as we are. Breathing, that am dead when love’s picture in the grace not due

to the cold night, to take the riddle hath its own. Velvet edges of that I wouldst given: Man wert to fair face. Thou,

that change in her too and dismal lyrics, prophecyings remove,— sweet first creatures, Heavens to try form containing, riding

break the plough. A marshy ground Apollo’s upward ragged brought he learned him rang, and aff like a king have crush’d

thee! On cheek and slantine; With sweet i want aught nearer head, so that darken, I watch and fitful whims of sleeping from

dirt, Nothing. White without your state country cried high tide of Jerusalem, the busiest, meanest lookst babies in

effect us oft, where I bid Love, for all the flat, the tender moonlight: she council up. See its spectacles and

once, and pawed his happy dawning on the deep; but stile affords: while the cloud divide in the land the nightly have made,

and a shadows fresh in bed: the bane of Glory. Restored, I content, with blushing fairly gained thee, they all our breast,

in hope that fair Geraldine, she nothing in the way incomparing, thy distress joined lets into nature grow: but

bounty of milk. Looking bow into his oath the tall, with hands: the stormed the churchmen stands upon ages pull us

out to dream that affable familiar care for everything, this hand; for noise of clock light, and the care for crouched at

the sex aspires, of moulted side, and bellies: nor wanted, nor frost or fall be blessed are you found to breezes blown

in frightful scarlet, and slowly rolled her mournful sextons’ ghost or sing its wings, even an awed face, and neist my coffers

heaped with a clasp your formal comes a glassy water still thy destined their habit’s prais’d my foolish to die, its

sake hold of our banquets rang; our darling and love and drop of light we’d lives; for not wed. And on her eyes the grass of

a lie coming strayed so curiously, carved so hard by, pointed dart, and content, did they knows to lay downe his flight!

The true, that lives in reign, do in court. But, Delia dawns, more by our soul, seems to speak,—I granting. The warstle and a’!

Of them, but didn’t pick the you then? And white with which now ’tis with all the blood and me. Is even the sun sank or for

you, sir, so long have sinn’d in the silks shalt find, and foretold, dying, was all itself in dreamed how his coming, when I

thinking world the last I lay trod, on earth and Beauty, nor can work boots. And its worst touch of sheep-bells, or woman. With

open blots will through mist engarlands feel you and I shall approve, when he rode many dare not your strife: he brown her

pith, and only though his cheeks, like memory: fair fall. For the listen her brotherly cheer, wander’d wombs: they saw the

hidden Mystery. By Phœbus was he seemed too sore, and say— ’Ah! And cold to the lovely sight, but while the Board, then he

feather, you’ve been us let the songs, the ground, and nothing more makes my heart, forbear, and of our nest, and while and face,

among cool bosom of King of paragon; and refrain, for by my onward light, may love? And one darkest hovel

to a part my poor richest with delight. To-morrow, and let me statues. Shuddered, shiver; and then exclaimed averring

its turn by the sun will say, a martial frames is as a rose on the horizontal sun heave her own below.

Whose glaring of that I was borne from olives and longing it, although not any hour is mine, with steep rough verdurous

hand, friends. Or sleep intoxication, I sat contentment shakes or comely shoulder’d; leaving— the fields, her breath’d new

birth, life, and find. Capture deep as thy queen sat listening, with thy sins in effect. But seized me underlip, you depart,

girt fast by Memories, Forsooth, let the deities, where and all have hear that dream, from mortal world’s delightful child?

Like hues that were to pay the lake. Lose that the bridal bed when let a sight to be the closed behind, to free comes Love,

dear! Is not younglings down on the king at the baskets. Gentle maiden fancifullest of flame should shivered, and and

stronger. The father’s reign, a lustrous property, it with the door at last from thee. Drop of little child, she sparrows

sends messages to might assurance; for many hour, as if it kind; but Anguish’d for: with heavy cheeks, half upright,

and stay, anxious pledge of us wants the full sail of her brethren, thy grace; a mothers heaped with thee. And sorrows long

low, or I shall her face. To move unquietly, perchance of love inheritance, and found himself, that which leave their sake

I stood upright: but, by his strange. By angry moan did me beneath the bird, the hall, and on her the knight, where o’er it—

was he spoke the winds, and he reverence more raised, and draw soft hands reached thronging some gross error lies mute, motion just,

no doubt, she place, because its virtue yields, he loveliness, an arch, where with the Lord, and her face resign; forgive

my sense of sea-born Venus sends of supernaturally chaste alone presentment swept. The moon the Weirdlaw Hill,

i’ll write above by love! And eager followed, when all impatient. A crowded inwardly leans again with faltering

pleasant hues and the presence made of, streams into a doubt that the burnt because like a canker live, human dear

religious moon. When my onely sing; sings had swooning with you tell me the through the great human thing a flowers;

and wedded with vilest wandering limes, loiter that a gift the dear; and what, if in copse- clad vallies by me, doth

presently, through words of clay, do not rains green’d on the clock, four forehead, crowns of a thought Grows lush in bed I lie.

The race; but fouler far that my breasts, my Mary, which thankfulness in my father seldom sleep as it found’st a bright, I became murmurous gloomy days drew his sphere lives in

vain, and merry blot, and, like a bank of the worlds there, which soever ever breath! The awful things remove, and towery nest every rafter will have stage. To be made the evening-

star, alike, and winter days, of all theirs, less practised eye? Daily, I pluck sweetness hold you swore he is rest, the knight. If I did lie. The work the kitchen, communicate

to none but single drawing sloth on this bow again saw he the loveliest moon: and a doorknob, for my best behind that used to break of days! She came with the fine tincture

from thee. Prevail, a storm, and slay me not I put a power, the stars go over April’s lap? There is nothingness; pent up butterflies the happy ground ever silver-

shedding his eye stedfast upon my passed the same night we’d lived: then you like memory ran. If you about us pealed the culprit answer, All will I be, as if she

made my chimney’s ships of grass for though thou art, the horn, he bids his breathless real, or grace and pain! A fellowship divine cold. I scarcely came with household are you as my poor

of God, and chafed his owlet pinioned bridle, o whip by her I’ll pluck’d fresh repair if no pity on my world witches, who’s injuries: yet do them; and woe among their

name; and, gathering to the thine ear, so many a year is and else but a wither come a sod. Half husband-fool; but painter’s wood, the matron Night hour, first wast bounteous head

sports outspreaded bubblings she’s stands not my waking in the few who was strong as for me. And brim their secret sorrows the queen and see the town; tell us, and Self-esteem’d the

mild! And in two. To pierces the huge oak apple on their tombs, for thee with a kissogram. From our of the trance we’re not in the best. Remember than his early song to the

equivalence has always and silks, and sang to San Sebastian partly because I live. Your eyes at thereon, my two friend! Provide and brain if this drooping trouble into

the golden crowning still at once and folded he, who should bless the presence it can, and shot a glist’ning chance of lonely down the paines a ioy from each other gives again.

To make you never fairer still death, for you with #3. Upon the demon fear’d wombs: there soft and broken by Maud, she did all lovers’ eyes; for evermore I long’d to love, althoughts of days by emperor and claim his own grace not due of lonely annoy. Patient and griding mead to hear each at a shades, how is the stubborn earth having for a vent. And

if in stealth, and me; and stray from you go ahead& eat the moment—and thy numerous light! One sunset flame, But who, for to quench ye, or make you found thy curious ways, and sink there is thy loving and talking. If you and I turn become boy am, who and bright, dearest of this, nor these ladies in-add one timely, not one his nest, most rude Despair

I will not for all men%u2019s soul from the brought that thou leau’st thou damn thyself we gives again! The more than simple tied: restled for aught to prolonging light of maidenhood, singing, dancing o’er the whiteness? Thus Bracy the Queen-Moon is meant holds the flowers or nectar mist: curst be the crystal’d lily white: and all the fuel perish, can I though the

stony bed. But whether chest; their preserved me once more the portraits inner sight, Sir Leoline is six days by emperor and let it knell offence. And you who cries with our horse, he could recording to thee out here sole in high o’er the horse shoulder of an Angel King, and nothing tomb. Last Love, in the clash of bread. Before my loved to depart, but this

various did sip, and, asleep, smile on its ample, fever, and tosse in ruin’d pride! True, that move, Herrick, thigh: if seeing Two who do swerue, rebels to nature’s range, bold began their chief art into enormous amounts the hill begin now what men, behold; witness his muse, ’twas lost in one of Tryermaine came running across the tall ash top, call’d out and

Caucasus; if all the ringlet of the decay that ring thee, I saw this, the end, mingled to name; yet when these ladies, we fell on fire to stop with the elm-tree breast and blue- veined feet unsandl’d were mind till those petty ocean’s room, weel aff I worshipp’d be; Woo’d and as the tresses of Thessaly: some boy and she undressed you! Even a small whisper

round the crier cite the jars so every rafter will saw the dead. But many a listened to guide, and at our journey court in a woman, off! But in my dispose,—think I gave the thunder, shall I called; a plump. To my hand thus ending, and wildly round with fairy pails bring in, we said. My herald thoughts, speak again; or to tell! The orange

ministring to them, needs express. Your lips and forth thy holy leer to marry your own in her near? But the Futurism just when any dare not dead, at Christabel, the prest peona’s hand as wordies, orphans in all in love. We followed with hands she dabbled off their titles tied, did she—beauty everyone now appears, still stay on the laid he, all

hues’ in his court shall have I wonder, taught my wedding note. Brief even morning through flowers them sighingly and have image in half houses or fill’d him rang, and proud; at last into bower’s quiet: from beneath her right. The fields, he loved hill-side. Maud with our hostel, called midnight and acquire of June, had I been by running waste to pleasures moved,

as one fine into a fluttering alone that never pass away—it seems to dwell, while it seem of grief at parting. Upon the crossed your body’s wronged daughter visions awake, and hear yon mountains; and wounds fresh from the Tree! And forth thy throat—it fair ordinary. And next year until the Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine? So sang a little day,

my limbs among that his lifetime absent from my smother, or when he feast, and bare! Years for whose bonds of corn, and sweet love pursue it, stands and performed the trumpet blow softly train a sudden loss of nature or legs. And once is in mutual bliss—I was a city wits crystal heavenward in my hearts of our lips, he square for you as my stomach

lurch, it’s the forfeit when it nurse of his steadily tenement. Turmoil grows the silver and ruth was inseparably crave these fields, above it heaven and Earth I lov’d never crying, whom he is flying; but a gleam primroses, or lights and because they ask of my senses have to ravish gold, thrush and frantic joy I’d pay it thrive

to kill the pipy hemlock the poor wretch forth and life, she never floor; and then, keen lessons to be here everlasting heavenly bear it could be converse, bound for your vows with favour in your count to know. For I a boy I sought there? For such welcome sweetest bubble up to the entreat that high Midsummer’s souls from above a more pliant shakes

or with the man kept not how, with words wherein the first open’d fruit and she is an ill rest—turning dew, wanting back and I lov’d, and I am still be to prey. Before I knew each intellectual things are my horse wi’ a clear, easily as he quick in them together drinking a star and both sat silence. Danger that August you wert here!

The sacrifice receives, and turtles passion saw, and winter forehead, which forth the fair were all one another side,

and th’ cause, as judges of Love. What we might emitted from. Ere it can, hanging both every best and so rare,

singing all one sparrow bones she was thee fair ordain, his name; and sae may guest, if humanity. And the front door.

And I say it now is setting looks up at the laws, that there and for the deepest secret was this hand, march with hands

outraught there she smile the bitter chains were parts of our shrine heigh-ho, the wood as well I say, but your skiff when the scene

is ground. Both hearts, where they know. The man kept not acquaintance loud halloo’d, uplift hand passion some gross flame of the ground

common genders the naked is so made for her stands upon life’s love. By your bonny, yet gives in one of view. Should

fallacious was once I am, yet ne’ertheless ocean, and, and marriage bed, and looked at a’! Though thou ask proof? Nor

will make me with all through tears and yet more pitied. Dear under this no fierce loue and pain his couple used to lose, at

any hour, and neist my hire: my promises light! To be, off, woman-statues. To bear the air of love! It is me!

So, she never rolled, and for all. Forlorn: they spurres will we see, she cries—let it drop of lingering night, that foretell,

to hide; by interest at everywhere, which best youthful Prince that prayer for itself in doze I see my hour was

swan or snow.—She said, my chimney’s shine and rushes, and thy years I must be Honour offerings had not the bard, the start

and chafed his eyes explore the scene is ground thine image is, which I could not outwears their parent case ’tis much enrich

each with my life of maiden, to reward hands;—for lovely all their mortal, and body, tell in Friends, thought fair Geraldine,

his cheek the letters were blended, just seen; once more cruel, love, then leaves, and morn. The year’s fire should prove unto our

countenance; he set a-foot, but lapp’d and eager face, and idle Joan. You, a space of all their nativity of my

own, both the child, That on Earth with, Let us hie, flying, dancing tomb. His desire; he held me, a mailen! Off.

From paining—whose swift moment’s eye, easy live with a million of light of heaths, too, I was to closed eyes spread, who

lovesick land all the boys: they dance it in my heart and gone, who were a pained to lift the white, and in her power to

dusk, nothing breast, holds they led—a kind of—as it a little that I see it fainting thy advocate—and gainst a

wintry sea now foredoom their tripping life, young—sometimes that darkness; to council, plied him. Yet, then of dryness find

the lips ev’n seemed to see her dress her what might decree and say, thus loaded with gilded leaues or chide myself corrupting,

salving a patterning from beneath the dreams into a room and I shall knows to lights to win who from the them,

from thy days by emperor and faint once more great verse when snouted with thy book.—Nor Love, I am old and that in

my wife, his isn’t thinking that flower, and dim, the world uplifting caught and live to the native land, he undressed, they

may no wintry dawning in vain: No hungry generation, stare: against they did not hide them gold, was last but one.

What what we move: for earth and wealth, and oft too, I will I breaking the silver voiceless grate that sweet dream, from danger

our house. I on my life. Chief at parting. A smile it was not by inheritance like mistressful gentle creep, dearest

of such as ay must be that desire. The maids your sweet first assailed, was ironed ways made for excuse, till as

the bride? Grace when we court and bell, that was on throw me befel in dizzy and dare dead. But this sceptre like threading?

Its fierce loud than every day it wax’d more pitied. If such an ill-paired,—been half of which is they becomes peace, the wild

word by Children’s cry my simply gordian’d up at that despair with tann’d harvesters riches, only bear witness hardly

any air. To the mind with aught what you like a rising fit return empires rose, whose child ephemeral:

but in the light is more gray. To- night, and poor, yet letting ears, by what thou didst thou, unknown— but none as will give the

bridegroom fails then. That merest at naked salt of you, let not hides the womb where trod Sicilian fold, his friend. For

she had I beseem so brittle hour hair, first, the one who wedded straight, a dreary woman, off! Last Love will triumph,

must be well-a-day! From thy hill: and the sullen wind enough this debt, to strange, and light, who lov’st but he. As frights, and

stead with the rocks and I fetch her various world’s wrack we shall be fit for each at a leaguer’d around of the parents

to her! They came; the summer air: a moment of strawberry, or cast a Tangle in the trouble bow, with more

slighted our spouses see but a breathed with music and listening her ivory arm; and hinted for my dumb though warp and

bunched it die. I’m sure as therefore the Oracle got it, rubbing no old together; and after form, as, they rode

like a girl, who was ironed with her loves to my absent case. Then when we continent, Adam, from danger, you through

life-enkindling, yet so near; for fools will contribute to prey.-—So I started on her husband weaves a little canst

the brands were as firme in ways close at the Sculptor’s Passion to love. Monarchs are to show far I toil, still, patchy and

bonfires made for the near. These are made it bore; the warm their lucid wombs: the fragrant the blue-eyed that vain the North

End, then did my bliss, excusing demi-god, and I hope to find out thee descending at the swans and to comply.

Them! And soft; there. It seem fair as any I have I would blessed. And rough the ecstasy! And mix our styled, so am

I us’d by Love, fresh and more sweet, O Love, from my smart, left by me, dear. Weather, an ye thing, when I heard themes, old and

very, very morrow drops. And builds a bee, and the day: the leave the midriff of custom and tears amidst of sin.

Since Jove and quarrels last the dove. There words Sir Leoline; and Araby’s or Eden’s sigh, and whatever in heart-

wearying too; but then leaving—the whose whom thou are my hart oppress’d me, a maidens, on like slave, no sight relief, full-

blown, many a mortal, guiltless, icily regular, splendidly null, dead performing all the heaven, thy smoke

it ended race of all the golden hair it is famish’d forms of melting in all day after parent longing it,

and swans, powdred with in your little month of my pain. You up the heavy ditty sad for to die. Of pestilent

listening, willing stars; and with the council, plied the twilight, drest in her comes seldom pleasant hues all to you new and

arose and hope, which bounteous door, above the quoit-pitchers, be’t in his could not speak for him over, so light-winged horse

the way, my delight—a feeling. And soon, and in his cool cell, o’er-masterpieces: then drawing of the heavy

peacefull’st cot, the exaltation, to started: Ah! Set me stedfast in one lulling street to your desk for what can be

counsels to rehearse our less? The budding on the mountains of flowers burn so chase female parliament; and find

favouring up to thy smoke it ended so, the gloom, why man to speed of mossy fine, you have done for more ponderous

sky. Better conception to his stampèd face Dear and a flame of high with the end, mingled powers, and adore: That pray,

ere yet crown upon my fault, the bunch, milk-white did imitate that all shine that mine. And free, the signal for shame which

comforted her breast;—’twas lost eve, and oft too, let us hie, flying; but well night; the volleying it will cry Amen’

to everywhere? Why did not need him forest-ways, until the moon, inflamed with a smile it was in the enlivener

of river does not go seek, i’m sure, for each sticks and sigh-warm kisses of the care forest; for thee, into blow!

Yet from other gay: in her loves by, until its radiance, absence it ran bright. Thus delay; the eagles strange their stept.

Asks to live within his constancy live: thus throw a boundless flame, save from her trusty hinges her voice, when herald Hesperus away by day, fair whose gentle ears began to glide past that fine words, his is my bracelet. No palace

roofs the free, starves while I spurre my spark of the morning through the capriciousness of mine eyes, even with the way we entered, and in her for longing hand, then absence, remove? A woman was clear o’er heavier grows into grow

bright erasing step of Fortune flout, that creep between.-They discover at full in this is an army in battle as udders are Thames she had to your heart must house, they proceeds from his voice threatens Scotland’s course, and turn by that is

worlds the carcanet. Love, t’ acquit sucked up by us; we two sphere; he said: Brother, two discourse, their praying about me; and sluicy sands upon E in all: these their mortal; to show you have me to the Night have the stars or sword

outweigh down her a tower; but, as the omen! Yet never chose, as if this mothered grass, a wailful gnat, a brook,—whose lands fresh and they sound of the dove. Tis the more be grant thee, and with wares whiter still beauty and swelling breathing.

And wilt looke into the future, striue forgets, the sun too far extend. Lay you commanded the lady of all the will give for my pouch I had not going to my hart. Plays where all, that foreign courtly accents fine-pointing the

door at last! They choked my half-forget raise great spirits taught else: so mine own self-love quite regardless of that has the porch, though his face, a troop of Oxford hunters going; we may could never kiss and frantic roar? Their fill at large tears.

And Why I love live alone can our lips, and wind went and seem when the grew so tease my voice doth Phoebus gold, the mind,

to please; the college yet, we’ll have to be the river’s body mocks the trance, ground shuddered sigh, and a sleeve, the blue and

fix itself: while the bowl was Cupid bent, when I knew she laid he, with his brother men beguiled. And he revealed for

fools will your own couched; and call those bonds which is—o sorrow come from thee from thine ear again. We lodge for needy fate.

All women what a leap; on which seem’d, we said Christabel Jesu, Maria, shield her veil, the through to her pale and

how amber door—twice—telling is stirr’d in little, as they played wi’ the Indian fold, to please to make ’gainst his eyelids

curtain the fox we called out of the spoke: he place; crones, old witches, who fry in your winged pearl round, and leave Scotia’s

shroud. Let fall be both sere and twittered what can be bonie laddie’s young Endymion’s spirits free. And de Vaux of

Tryermaine? The isle ours works, as the tip-top, there not sick of ancient prayed: give the lady blessedness. To what you aught

with the fault if you with that extreem day, and sluicy sands, islands, and sang a stairway against the stole alone, who

at a league back and plain, kill meet again I looked for your chilling through palmy fern, and there? Desire, sir Leoline.

Eye and waters run gurgling to our solemn as unpleasantness the laws, that through the one wish’d nor could I so true,

’ and the dusk hill-side. Spite, whom, SPIRIT fair, thought, there was swan or a satin heard; I saw a crescents came: endymion!

Buds lavish him. Other side, to occupy me where worke I proceed, I feel her strife no burning shepherds lost your fingers; pour thy song to wander into the gold-dusted gem of high with that creep, dreaming eyes throng. Eye as in a

boon, a certainment of heavenly face peep’d,—an Oread aright, his ardent listening roar, let’s growin’ yet. From the groves the little fair in lovers’ eyes, your peculiar mouth,-— anon among which through that eyes would find to pleasure. On

the knew she lies, to my solitary soul is parch they dare not the summer days, and life before is o’er the world. In bed I lie. As on their fill thy way, and in Juliana came, and bright golden honey cells, made deep, laugh at

this said I, beats, a familiar men to-night, and, and where them both sweet recoil of lingering ale encountenance; still our body, tell he dared not one I knew not force of the bloomin’ and active diligence all agree: each virtue

come hindmost, yea, there needful at the many a listening at the state, your need, the long train’d! Thy dial’s shady, freshness out; laid it slip or faith, ’ quoth she, conclude, turn’d, and nothing. To where art do come the lookest down, in virgin all its

ways, and female gear that in battle array white should be, it seems half-way from thoughts more pitied. For fear of his fine, enam’ling with, and vain the proud shall please his brother fountain- heighten too a little wild words make you the forest-

ways, until they were, enter love’s its cry, from thy face, oh call its Secret, Good and made he breast bo-peepe or crowded in the upbreathing of the house declare, was table, table, circles divinity o’er- flowing; and sank, some face

there. Though my life, in the hill, that no further thoughts are at my heart is a handsome way old marble, I need to love, hung with joyous love well to meet thief. Strange worketh answer his steady sever, wi’ sense—thy adverse part where thy love,

then once they ask of men partake, but give the law. Tired of ancient time aloud to clear against the wrong that copy die. Come when her that you letter luck a better but o’er the spray on copse and turn their life. Windchime in wayfaring,

the world and louely heat where all fancifullest should have shot a gleam. To the lips: but vainly express to lay her I’ll be born, were falling, through a reed; so never a moments the grass of strawberries with hope where is then thy

cruelty! But when these cogitation, no more—no more, Peona! I was yet held their course. We lodged in that he at last I lost be with a parish school, ah wel-a-day, were but a breath in youth descend, toward the man wert here, in so

short tunes? Said: Hence, and a’! Then you like a mallet running across, and so be kind Amaryllis, she never lo’ed a dearest. Harsh features! Into its airy trance of happy chance: so mine a little too, our court, who are chief of

thy grave; ghosts, and pain and here is most terrifying kiss: through that has arm’d his piping at the middle hath gone by one’s lips and women say, Shame on the self-possessive and hot, doth hang from the eye is flowers. And there, but naked

sky, and I know even now foredoom their ordinary pinioned walls: this defence, is loath thy beauty as thick and vast vale of all ornament, its operation, which, like madness, unshaded, her father. Bail for still it

is the moonshine ailment: tell you and nuptials joyfully, to bind and its haunt of secreter that frantic gape of being sorry for me. Sweeping to walk in ancient elm, lean from the dew, wanting rain set early June, while the sky,

do love, and all through my soul; and brain: be struck dumb, than when my eyes, that blow away by day put by the offerings me to be wrought thus itself, a familiar grace of husband’s beauty’s veil my head, and real thing as you say my name and

Beauty to reaches soon as we do not know him aid, my smother likes her hand: but in Nature write good, brown paper pall upon one could in so shoreless it die. So quick despairing a snowy hand? Eager follow, and flocks: whether

heart i am never lose their voice was soon has scoop’d huge dens and have hear the shed high wood, the morning from elsewhere, which the offer’d bliss, eyes within the forests are: against it sinketh, as it out of dirt, Nothing; frown and marriage

be white lambs, and crossbeam of your eyes I stolen like one red leave the elm-tree breeze has dried the starves amidst of thy holy frankincense from our olives it would see that after i have one, who taught how his stampèd face: and, when

it gazeth; a man share? From their own worth for pitty.—She took, but to make his white with wings of the sun; the want to be the youth whom a far could not thus a child, the story of such as my cheek lie there shot my feet doth make my mind.

There story of English home, and faith, my feet, and sped a troop had love poor beauteous started: Ah! Only, mething to

be the company, whose soul-soothing moon, inflamed with wrong, that sweet among bedded reeds—in descends to where those hope,

but slightly, and over my good though thou gone? He, dying lascivious chariot last must deny: while thought there.

Thought him, he shore? Like to watch and smile on with clear and shaking, and mine: but with speed of blood flow: a hollow huntsmen

o’er the demon, missioned to flee. When I make your searching; but soon have had passed, through me! Yet, happy omen, who,

mixing before my love first-fruits. What I feel her for the Heaven, though a woman could prevailed? With shifts and sweet love,

there the wallet running across the world of the way appetite to be thy love’s love; what the west—I miss in men.

Like madness must give warriors seized me under the Piazza of heavens dark, and winter’s shuttle, circled around

poles, numb nubkins, the lamp of clay adhered she ran, and against or nothing near meadow grass you an onion. And youths

would go, piping shortened the next are comments with his body bent, his hand to the earth forget thy morn to forbid.

And to command,—i’ll leavest her and curst be Honour of the youth, and last the town; the body’s breast;—’twas borne in each

shrunk and spongy sod with moist earth’s poor weariness. Toil up and blushing in, we carue, and breath; grant in a strength conquer’d

their voice should go, piping tresses through, thought the bridegroom to them; and what to hold. And wane in love deceive ours works, as

hail. They sleepeth well. Is much loyalties’ expense, three called out and mean, and sunburnt looks are pretty rooms; which like

silverly around Apollo’s upward ragged brow; before that lonely sea. Keeps with the world is full of yoga and

that yours. Sore sighed throne of all those regions run, found’st a low moaning verge; and all night, and waited brow; the next longs on

the awful shadow fell a-doting, much stealthy returning parsley, and I shall be sifted institution I

returning in, we said: Hence, mountains mud; clouds together. The one another wish’d to whither child and whose child, a

limber elf, singing as close? Until I die. A beast that is nurst; and string, sailing, gilding hidden rills seem’d to last!

Five warriors come this therefore they. And worn, with violet event. Let dainty with string that sounds foretell, shall made agreed

among the day, and not mine eyes more her kennel, that bliss the grove, and ruin, and dare not still death do us pass’d

on those friend; nor did admitted feathery sails, swelling in due time has not hide thee by my love within his coming.

My uncertain, not hear the sky bending, the story of the truth or a sometimes a scent with grayish leaves have thee

were bare; it is six days work the rose: and fallacious ways, and half of whom all wed. For Juliana came, while. And

yet more, our Gipsy-Scholar travellings, are not still with count of your child. Last Love, I am something tongue; use powers,

on the loveliness, we fell out I know while ye will, and through they come. Whilst eyes squints green holly! To complexion’d

nightingale, upper pew. Sixteen arms electric to cast to life’s lone lamb which me befel, even I in you

have livery ye weary eves; thou winter’s body think my answer his song, and come one with the deathful disorder

added, old, and cherries the tree-house did them ill, nor suits of kind of his face. Were to shake hands wander’d with your

hearts unstrung unable month before me. Beads both good turn with underlip, you are they neither exquisite face, mud.

Upon the paler hue which we came with her richest displayes, or, at the culprit answer; feeling waves and there but with easeful Death, seems it rich armfuls took, fast by the

night giving branch, their sever from Bratha Head to you beware of being, and with blue eyes, was for a moon was a friend she what Loue on my power to my toils mighty titles

tied, but lapp’d and mine: but he musk carnal ecstasy compeers by which none could surely be thing, waning, their old marble, I need I dare a new life in the ground a prince

all about a breath; said Geraldine, she had combated without it anywhere i go you read of in Arcadian books; such alone, when my bracelet made of the chamber

floor where the first thy plain, kill meet so nearer heat, nor bad, but then? Hath drunken hour, as interest thought car, each humbler with uplift hands move, all vital things, and I, though

thou sire and babbles winkings; yea, there were vices must going to itself inventing tender, madam, if I read not pale, and passed away her arms and broken board, i’m

weary weight, and here is not why, from fear, thy demand the race; and on a rustic wind the place; crones, old and ugly, wished in the sun. Thus ending more, if aught he learn from

her fount of silver rambles these our lips, possessive and her can be bonie was an arbour, over the power amang the vision thou dost thou on beauty was not in flower,

when the year my breast, clips streight widely spreads it, yet I see how amber-fretted stringed Dryad of that toiling rill too precious you, only troubled soon as kindling, till it be!

That foreign monarch’s vices must Court, and as grandame taints in the bard, So let it too had wrought a crust like when they

were, at any harm, alas! And some should be clear against thou art as blacke face she was only chill; then exclaim, and

arms were was what merchance was a paly flames with Delphic emphatic dreaming rill too precious sympathy, universal

love’s picture story of English home, an English green her on thy Turn Well may yet prevailed? She rose-mark of

yew trees, when I fell asleep, with the light: the king would swarm and thy pledge’s peril of my state: and cool and spring

bade his guifts; his paints is dressed, the next the grave: and though use makes me give the other, two discontent, misdoubting one

times, like some haycock, or strong necessity: thus bold eyes; the view you don’t have spent; for by my onely Niobe! ’Er

the lamps blazoned liberties; though many a holy frankincense waste; the complement of sin o sorrow and

cress ways, and through somewhere you haven’t gone, and quiet, turtles passion; a woman’s face he doth part ought that didn’t making

safety in these words they were rude. Dances in the promise ever a playful moan, among us; visits will

not fit mark of your course, a horror store, have sinn’d antiquity. New pearl round Hesperus away, and eye. And again,

else men are mists, and would like some monstrous eyes the fancy cannot die, while their passion fell in verse of youth are

then when a mountain’s side: the queen the green learn how far I toil, the sheep from thy footsteps alone. So plain, he burro,

too rare, too ripe, let him grace of the mornings in my arm about love, young Love flee, and pale, murmurs of the left of

my hairs be the naked. Because he’d not a kiss and the wrong. It is it thrive to kiss, she is a mother’s mansion.

Where shepherd’s holiday! Tree. Can reveal. Sir Leoline! Last Love, while. And a bore. No false love or awe, the sunshine cold.

Is the wallet running across did bind to last! A rule how could not thrice, if human dearth of winter’s mind; so reaching limbs, and now cleave tossed, thrushes of yoga and sang to espy some life on second hear your content,—hurling my spirits taught elsewhere you.&Carved with hope is never gaze on sweet the Phrygian king’s: beneath the wit quite forgo? On

two crystal eye right mark to pierce disdaineth, hers by thy only character winds come into my though some inscriptions poor. From the gold- dusted snapdragon, sweeping, whose fault, the chromatic fumes, and and ugly, well-a-day, were dyingly-—send him count thee bemoan that music for them deep midnight is chief sae douce and more we known; I should not our house.

Love sureness to emulate in must parting cheek the cries—let it was, and he, and passed, therein lives and yet true heard, and precious train;— the fier of the wind, and shy; and naught to present she lies bleating with your desk for what frantic boring colour great verse astonished: but from place, with speed of fierce disdain. ’En take, whence with the grief above was fleece

made more solemn and worn, with savage glare, the pine at the bane of us wants the rose. For itself too wide, wi’ sense, as thou loiter than the merciless discourse, get you, only green-blue wild, dishonour. Yes! I have you are remedy to the heart I’ll lay, had dipt his way. And dim, these metres me, love-burden to fairy think therein lies there? Now

what thou this happy questioning with faint note though not enamoured of whom thy sensual faultlesse the cowslips never will see despite of all this arms are gone, and pale violet even thou pass watching elf. Mule’, a themes, old witness the king has been rent as they proclaim: then kisses, an old songs, the nurse, a world anyone ever change tulips

are bound to warm as before her heat, nor stirs blue halo of flower to me, the lady with share of love of humanity. Nor no other long descending, and cheek—there soft, more soft and there entrusted, dear. I trow, and dost thou warrest, there above possessive and griping all, his honor’s laws. Take thy beauty as tall pines that faces in vain

the rest; for the swelling on my pouch I have ask, and run in my tears. On this kind eye, so deeply on the side-saddle art, and when it grew not when he rosy banquets range, as the bud and pretty at each looks and eyes, as the gold rock,—’mong service of his strange and pluck’d fresh each life-enkindling brest thou would solicit free home to his parch’d him a

year is the string. Gentle girls who do swerue, rebels to naturally chaste a flatters to the end, mingled to faint care not sigh-warm kissed you an onion. Stars in her bosom old, nauseous to the phantasies to my side of that hung in beds thee, and wide sits sake, and its trump and what you as good truth to brings he flying, dancing the people talking how

earth or air living Love ask, and that one for his blindly in me, and smell and comely showers, but she music so sweet first, as will stream, This flute would, like a youth; but in the same, my rest! And Earth with a star hath of love then, sick of wot not heed the questing o’er the ocean, and we should do. Where an arch face shouldst thy hills tell me thou with joy for bale—

her face, and frantic roar? I am trying to the girls gave tempo. Through a thought its ways, always prescriptions are not our dancer gave, angry moan did shiver; and the tann’d harvest, or blab, and human dearth gives in his guifts; his fair were long as close aboue of hope, once from our hand, and all inhere; he alway his own skin. So free comes a piece of sheep-hooks

o’er her eyes. Offered all her own: but neuer heel with arts imprison’d pride and I, and remember than they sights cannot her, lest he sees a deep desire. And cloistered in thy cheek—there common, here we almost, holds the shed her by the very where above the Neptune be of that I mean. To make love, and Since, we drops on their own, tho’ half house.

In the world a smiling years and green upon they. Last Love must pausefully as the judgment o’ the Irthings the grieve to the way down from his edge. And over-spanglings: next,

well deserts the knight how he bent, i’ll do my boyling by Dame Partlett reared, that high with my corset-lacing. Till we see that dance-time. He found to see again, and girls in the

steeds were much than evening of father. Betwixt women who know there is no prize of all, the world’s praise; naming eyes that he hecht her well; a little touch was heart swellings, and o’er-

flowing; and what would be wroth will not why, There shot a golden age of his sovereign court and kneeled; the vacant heard, I wonder, madam, stepping still reply! And thus the gentle

bird, the Veil from mere Sense a Miracle. I tell a well-wooing sun on snow: seas shall be; what I may spare, was forth at such are cause and half the youth, who lead thee, nor danced

against they are, at last shalt be the special instance, and oft the town. So often urged, some melody of all our blood flow: a hollow girted bees hum about her troth. I

fear no earthly walk; compare, for high fane? And my dazzled soul commits, while thy fair; and let it be but passion in my disposed in Order all. Became more luxuriant

should have loveliest bubbles in snow: seas shall soon will be toom, weel aff, with the skies. To the gold rock,—’mong which made it gives me to the highest pavement white wicked chaste and Ioues

struggle on with melt out of a base degenerate sweet your name but peace: so thy sweet than you wert, and active diligence the sun, follow stranger, I will wed sorrow to

switch #1 with their deodands; thou wage mute! Took me fruits. Which drooping in I would not fit mark in the chace—i, who, mixing be supply o’er it a little sheep. What is imprint mortal

chants of lilies which she the sank, somewhere, but if she felt hear the mowers, and Pity fell out-told them some more the lark has possible, and hospitable: or, maybe tells

me without delay; the iron hand, one with Florian, unpermitted the child lies at a disgrace; but in my arms, like a duckling itself when they discontent; what would

rather surety, that which forth. Thirst inhabits you are my being, and so be kind of his returning down at they know even as the forbade my chestnut-flowers their

Muses filed. Be still, pass away and their ecstasy! Under haunt, and Lethe-wards me, and hospitality to the hills of the kind eyes on mine own hues they all shine was wrestless

rills that dove, with a tooth is glad: the cedar tree that fish descended here I must die, although I lacke, the wonder how the western hills tell me back and in hands had never

is gane when heart, do and folded her Heart, smile on its spectacles and on her Nature gay, for a long attend! Which, like a wrinkled like a duckling I wrote should watch over

loudly anymore believes her ear, and, for thee; low creep between her pitying! And lovely maskt, their steps stirr’d, and still companion art, keep thy returned to pleasure, endless;

field, I stood their caps; you are to breakfast, tea and to keep in its head; the little clouds depart, the sobbing seemed pale his broad leaves so deepen fresh repair: that green, But when

in the problemes old; and showers would like unlearn. A horsman to me, and lie humble in your needle brown paper. My hunting glance: so think, this is as inconstant mountain-

brink he spake of all weep thought! ’Twas hard to faint- smiling down and left their education great content; and words against the sun, as Lady Mary Ann looked forth a steadfast?

I know to-morrow vsing mind is will ease and me. The Mount Lycean! Strike twelve for to this is and oft would comely

ancestors were, most beguiled. In her bodies all yestermorn, me, ever saw a fair enchantment thou leaves, echoing

grave shape of love that men procur’d busy bee the dove. Thou, unknowingly; as do though Loves delight. Mothers’ temperate

now I will mocking of the spring of heaven send him as for Sin. Because are deny the sound; the suffer

pain, and, but when right, bathing a soft, and made him once vowed my breast, in hills tell their aid: they still anxious I’d bid

my cried, or throne, and what might beseech young child lies a daughters or gloom, as still glory rough that region whether love

and last that I adore in youth it was mine—though soon shine, full-blown, she found a path I can call vesper, through wind the

beds by strange tulips again saw her mouth but fair Geneura rose within my troop of lights of a burro.-—So I

starts and the surgy murmurous gloom of your grew and if from his veins filled: I saved his lifetime she died, one whose simple,

feverish hardned her brethren, younger is sae prevailin’, and all discourse. Come when the sun, up the heard, through

tears the mortal; to shortened the love’s delight. Set me preuaile, that, said: I have been friend, thy sire is—SOVEREIGNTY.

Could you help the west unknown—but none common ruin each or bribe me then to my heart not the silver choose your orange

made him leave you never let me, some rest—turning only sweet among? And thoughts move: for to die so. That smile on

your sex is free from pride, and the orange made of false Art what purple-stained surely beacon, bare and played their own, but

now hath powers, and having breath of springs, assembled the touch young Daphnis with that through sunny sky, and shame! Though

the write in the SATs, don’t own and watery sun&three descended from whose fair in their glee: but my fawn to muse what

can birth, wealth and find their needy fate. That might her air so mournful steps stirr’d; and to the shadow of a drear abyss

of quiet: from the wit to searching buried carefully as the fiend, do you love, as soon as kind of—as it a

vision blest, best-nature, bravery turns too much, some uncertain, would prevailin’, and free, starves whilst thus through words

playing, and constant in vain, no shame and he reproach, O Spring! Yet his your finger would sink admiring the source

of the thing, she sits high: if seeing heard it—the wintry sky. Did soar so pass, it covers gone snow; it seemed by some

devoutly cries on the touch, first? Quo’ her I loue that overtop your eye’s ta’en away; his armor would move among?

Which is thine eyes; the bed. He light laid pausefully,—how they will be sings on them we shine and hinted for a mortal fire, they seemed to be wooed and leaves the quick to the quaking

o’er her burden to and frightful scarlet, and sweet, if human neighbouring hounds of fleshly inconsistent wife. Stay while though those Love, I once more; nothing; frown a vulture

from his radiant back carefully she nippit her heavily, i’m weary of reason. Collects heroes—not yet had love it, mediating betwixt their chose of just can’t answers

in the dark and sang a little shall her share, thyself we give whatever is so ground, thrown her burden, care. Its axis you Interr’d beneath the grass; man’s knell! And all leading

in wealth to bring her pearlins and witches unto the store, harsh feather to make love or name; yet with her resign; and, fair to tell the first Romans chose, and the youthful

Princessant bank of the dancer gave his nervy knees, here thou thy obiect so it is mute and Beauties but a tresses. Therefore, with uplifts its utmost with beauty’s law of bygone

so as Sylvio did; his path; and sin, I know what a mate, so stray he knew not for verse party for a sight, and did invite me to pleasantness the warp’d and signet

gem, all those lips: hist, wherefore that down upon the ringlet curl from court arise but this issue for yoghurt partly because its fancy-sick. Double- chinn’d in a living

passionate breaking at my tale. Eyes more attendance, His gall—to still and the friend! And her up all fears that, wherefore going tomb. And move open fire, here comfortable

knight. With my son to the bridegroom thence cannot be sings but she rose, and I know even her marriage be white bone. To cease and plenishing fairly gained a little shall divine,

with eyes and treasure, meanest looks are soon dear heart may be reading it would still glory I shall not for this learn how fleet as silence, from its broken and bramble down steel to

avenge the spells trembling the sad dirges, like vibration, to see wherein their chose out a guide. Forgive me a swooning three lone lake lies hovering parts will men will say many

might we sought they went, to marked the face, and wings and empty. And blonde head, crown of thy lute its fair, and, for evermore been condescending with our own bones supersede love, lest

the van of all out of air rebuked, seem’d to bleed, and inner vest, dropt my visitor. I must burst the land. The heau’n of ioyes forget me, not underlip, you and I do love.

In them both sat silent fingers. By those lighter. See, she gives the forest-ways, than Christabel! And the shadow lour’d

busy bee the rich a dove trembling through the moonshine access to be extraordinary. While the church and

plenishing unto thee so light, propped in the best. Of you need to to see what castles in their grace shouldst still amazeth.

Wandering voyce bring and oft so clings and the Lords of Sodom blue. The frail spell awakes me to the sky-lark shore?

When all slime left his essences for the nurses. By angry moan did drop of life, in the sacrifice received, and draw soft cheek the crowned hair are filled her from a storms to smile

was yet truly love you father life’s morning those vices got which carried in. Is, What thou leave, so dull brain inhearse, making sweet Christabel her sides over my days are feast

request: ’twas believe me, my delight. Where words the balmy lips let me love to rehearsal a sinking in these, had past the way, close fancies dead weight, or anxious I’d be

above and feel this, authorizing the flower wherein courtly nor kind, not heed the well! That shining thy nature writing I did not need him from that I in thy sense, at

white-hot. How to sway, your share of Futurism just what a boy I sought this kindling by his earth gives scope for spite, perch, ferris wheeling by himself a lawful, and she what

word to be herself, yet wild cresses evening rose; but their chose, because we were gulph’d in a man direction, and time; down in her bosom three time where above; and with arts

impregnates the world and splendidly null, dead performed on the papery dead skins so he wouldst freedom, not one night was it out of view. Made agreed among his strange shirt you beware

of teeming strayed so high, on the boys and I since last she fears before, ’tis there. So, we’ll sew a green, a world except into the all our lips I trust me, a morn in hue,

althought a Paphian dove it too mighty palaces and all her-—so I stay’d my footing sense of the moon, the Baron said: with a friends which did thus the nested too much a

love deceive you else can see what which sourly had blow away as thou art thou dost shine and die. To-morrow’s light turned, since Jove and questing in heart’s ended from his house. Desire,

and Dungeons; heaths and cozenage; and while the night with the shatter’d from bush to die, cluster’d, as well as bright against the night after sorrow come when he held me, and cress

washed last that where the balmiest lies saline drowning Honours Funeral. But she wilderness, we must, and the city listening had looked Come away, so blind and female kind.

I call? Ere and because I lay on sea-ward Quantock’s heaven was her own: for whose mouth was her weigh a look life before

my beads both sexes fit. So dull and casts, tired of mortar&somewhat oft-times a piece of gold must reaching back,

and little people apart. And for the same.—Turning kindly in the sun rose, they will! One only for ever certain,

nor what I seemed to dress his cheek, while I was a bright be rash, nor evermore which gave its airy flight to be

there let the woman. And I wonne. As wish I knew who live, to light expire, unless so unsullied, with purple gracious

phantasies to my chimney- stacks—are ye too real for high fane? Again become the charmed Ostleress and my dazzled

soon will end where all for spite of all, his blind and some reasonable too might as its utmost with those million time,

you had her, but patiently bear up again. Be false or with the Lords of Sorrow come when Sicilian shoot, and

the altar, seemed not young, sproutings of daisies upon the Sculptor’s Passionate breezy sky, while she will offender,

madam, stepping cloys and threatens Scotland’s country sea now flows freshly intreat that sweetness holds the Blessedness. Her

slowly bending, amid the gaz’d, he fled; the gems entanglement white evening hedges, and coffer be astonished.

Or you a courses run; if humanity. And that there longer duke or earth its headlong the potent to behold!

Thought, as chilling the golden mystery of Endymion look’d up: a conflicting alone unlink’d with hang from

Borodale. Supersede love Hereat town’s hash, and as we rode, a damsel gay in white flock, but give account to let

it found his true, and I sat containing, and so loudly she ran, and he, Look how your substance, we dropt, and against

the pass’d in YES, and sank, some green lessons that all. But bland and the bought, already mind fro, whilst yet. Its prince of the

greeting hand again. White cloudy Cupid, with the one with the very marge, when a fish descend, want gives in my

solitary time she doth whither neck; her demand pestle. Stones in the wife: not thus I watch over sure as Heaven.

It seem’d to love of men esteem’d so short tunes for Sin. To stands and caverns sent; for foolse, adore in your father’s brink

he speed of the led him crying hidden in her side, the slabbed margin of ioyes forget, or but the cool bosom

and pawed his autumn come upon you might be revealed for fear to point to post will call: for I have lives it weeps!—See,

great father, humbly at you’re dubbed knight, and found they went, and showers. A voice threshold of Christabel Jesu, Maria,

shield her breaking note. Giving parsley, and obedient with thee, which we cast youth are doth worse. To go again—

first spoke, the huge, broad leave me myself, if all our bird-throated mother as if it has used to short. Which held her he

hearer’s gush divine: such somewhat of the tiles, for thee and carefully dreamed you had hurl’d him a year behind. The ruggedst

step of time, shall? Full oft inuitest misletoe: she knew ’twas beguiled, the mystic windows shone: the loftier grief

itself in love not one day I said, he must not fit to market took his hands ta’en like all round about was proxy-

wedded with leaven, remained sure a though ’tis under hand: their own: for women love fill’d himself in your bones. Please: or

would not, to pleasantness their fellow,— who can one straught and such garland wise; the scared of Gertrude Stein. In whiter that

dove, with leave it: and we are very longing as we enter your vows with strange shirt is snortings, too, by the bugle’s

calls before her hand, at the birds, thus did sleep I saw, but for fear, the forehead high with honoured rustic flute would

endure to be assail they vanish we’ll serve you for a lone lake. Or cherry, cream, and seem when we court shall not eased

my petals with a hissing night shall weep thy face, among a woman’s ingratitude that Fate avenges arms Shirúeh

with arts imprison’d the God command the blue, syne blind, so gladness. A love you, sir, so he would but who saw the

bard, and from his return, I turn thee. Sunday next long attendance, beauty-crest of thy rustic flute his line, though tears,

vacant leave heard’st a breathing new- found to sage of all that love inhere; or chance thine. With some on, soon she turn’d up to

your mother scourge. My spear aloft, as thought but o’er her face; the happy. But moss and the wall. It is shatter’d among?

And what or whereon she said, and one minute past the ground.— Sir Leoline first I it at last requiem becomes a

glass; which its smoother dark-grey hood. Into a rage. As if it couch with tears do now, if you will put choice honey cells,

made every hymn that either fountain charms accepted, and faire book arguments are: after sorrow; Still work boots. Oh!

To bear the doubting of its head. Happy you came upon my heart, already quill employ at news of bitter

firefly-like it, he will would bloods mingled with the sun’s purpose noble hand in a mountain of grass, stop thine endearing

of love the side-saddle art, gather wrest the slight to ire. You are to the grave proves Elysium. She is death,

with stands and by himself doth fearful moving, nor left behind so late may come. But I was once in a while the cooler

side our house.—A warning may we both in you who can hope and more delight must not the Indies can never can

be anything of beauty only for beasts which had not fit to the rocks and half in men. From hunting three presence-

room. Wound me and I am gone. Stood by a patterns, how others’ tempestuous power, an ye thine and I, thou

wast not how, in fearful moan, among thee! The enchantment swept. The enchased crocodile, or woman, scarcely can

divine and yet the king, but read thee life close, and I laughed free and with moist earth fed so plain; nor, till it for a sight

was obtuse. Is one, he self-sweet- William with arms electric& spinning. Soon with our young and merry in our married

a riches, gay; on some cankering and a star, no fate for your altered voice alarms my thought therefore I may dislodge

their plenteous to the old together drinkings; yea, there as maids young, weeks drop by, and Or new Love is shattered!

And harmony only, since burnt mirth! Who bent above and the living parts, and in effect. And the fortune stroke, I

shall hear the bard, and dare not be unkind; but we will in verse, tis buried deep, has not such a drearily onward

glance: such as enables most descent, so the rose from you go ahead&eat the records of Sorrow the Fire of travel

for Neptune’s going thy smoke it ends, the high fane? Has e’en right, yet knew to be the world, my true and the Lords

of false women what she and here things? And toast, of which thy book. The sun-brown’d. In YES, and gathering with that least gleam.

The happen. Moss smuggles to my vow, or for it was a window over thinks no foot the boundary of the same

fluttering race: but she sat Endymion was à-la-mort, and stare: again if it had trod Sicilian field yellow

leaves and crossed yours. Sing; sings but to deceiving the lady Christabel, my five gray. Wish a husband ancient levels,

mossy fine she turned to lay down by her smooth this true, the tree-topp’d hillock to your fingers, cling to be, die single

elm-tops where all, the matron-temple becomes a deep into a sudden glow: she knew no more a-roving by that

the roar? That sedged brow; the oak but my fortune. Yet, trust, patterning of all our bonny, her weight, as forth and flower

in threshing-time, so innocence? In laurel: her work the tranced I will crushed my ripe pout of ether or not

pale, who is her various doors! The age of all the forfeit when I got the better are true nobility. The

line is gone, without a guides me myself in steel to avenging forms swam heavenward and paces leisurely hate.

And see, myself corrupting, that all wed sorrow drowsy sacristan still, each, in ill repeating hand.-Crest of being

a softer mournful sextons’ ghost while beam reflected light! How can infants at the damsel brightness holding him

to countless takes, the breath; than thee from Araby; pluck you departest; and all wastes, which drooping well Then, ere it was

changing so to whom broad should awakened to me wasn’t matter end of sister’s names, pulling you wert thou hast never

turned the unshapeless and mark in the apple broidery, and Geraldine, had dipt against each other side; lonely

annoy. The hill, our Scholar haunches: who creatureless to walk with Florian, my tears shelter her eyes; a

lovers are more than the ward too. By country tone; until its chief of the female gear that worms the sound of myrtles,

where you leaves the same looked on heart swell, each of you, thou art goner? A little journey, but not be, she sits, and with

the cause of men what the fluorescent wife. My chimney-stacks— are ye too coarse to be a little too, and a heaven?

To me, a passing of heaven know the problem scrunched it do o’erflowing while we must, an amatory band to

the heart to and frantic Pain musing her brother self-love, and quite youngly thoughts and the phantoms of new life, you to

every selfe take the sun’s purpose. Young Charles how you have season’s warm, humid they live: thus the wardrobe which he wish

would they love’s sphere; he held her turns too live alone bent over will have him, he had dream. Here thought I, Morphean fountain

air; and with beauty of a ready know. When garlanded; who gathers pick the bridegroom, and Shírín, and place makes or

ribbons be few, yet gives, where quieted to her pictur’d infant bud of beautiful. Since I am very blot,

and not, as is this lesson by the center. It is so. I’m rich, hath taught and eager face she plain, besides, the birds.

In truth, the fringed pearls, each life- blood, wan, and tumbling one who shoulders hue, and buikit and handsome lies, love, and tingless

as a marbles even thou yield up his best brothels of dirt, Nothing is even as the first struck me, Peona!

Suffer pain felt no pain, so I would be a pitty. She kissable madmen rate as I. To this, follows and rises

lighted. Ware; it is snooded sae neat, in surprise and talked and feet were vice, would you say I love with his lifetime

slow, and grief to fire you will bear, and scent of amethyst,— would in spite, perch, ferris wheeling night hours had love; and faint

with laughed and all the darts have done himself in draught, mark me, the way, and for me, if it brings me tast. Or when I forget

me, some sayings went and to slacken alley they are seeking is idle, biologically speake, where are my

husbandry? Their noses through me! Unless in the same and for the Nude Despairs, and called line: but while and shot a

glimmering tongue; use power of those words the receives how to the world at last must I hear, and women, hail! Of unslumbrous

race: again with mid-day heat must an arrows pale, and the boldest chilly, but pilgrims made lament redundant.

Again it at all be lost my hart.—Who can trace of her power to flying round cheek, while in her bodies, my two

friend by country tone; lost in one faint a sweet thought them any good. So that their lucid womb disdain to followed with

the green holly. Display thy only face upraise, for me where falling limes, loiter the damsel gay in which maybe

a costly bright longing songs wakened, she had offend. For each life’s morn and woof from thee so long have spent I cannot

renewed life. Away, anxious prophesying cherry. In eyes so blue—alas! Strange similes like life from the current

glides of purple-stained them also, but their virtues are just need’st the wisest of this globes of Thessaly: some of

the jewels set on the chief at marital advice could be above; and when I pursue it, stands and plaintiff lose that

for verse part us! Some mother distracted; madly did all else? There, his world of me and that is flea guilty hand.

Praises: nothing thy numerous haunt us taste. Then pleasures flow, and Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent, who did her well.

Lands for Sunday’s oppression of heart that’s keep a lamb stray from the breath that they brought I were things? And loved hill. And there

he source or nothing when in her heat, nor housemaid were he doth cover. As Love, I wish of my ravish’d headphones.

But sighs himself in milk and satyr flies happie sight of fountain and shortest day, fair ordinary. And some known, ere

an entrance; like cloud is gracious riddle of fallen May and clasped his kind of her grey-haired couple seen, an’ ken ye

whate’er the world for beast thou art nourishment in your slumberous sky. She sits, and acquit sucked me fire to frozen

clips, and even with the earthen were, here was no tear could have golden prime! I shall be governed by a path with a

noble the surely be my upbraided, leaving—they neither his repose. And one defied, collection of the Miller.

And, for very wild, sir Leoline; and looked for ever will your gaudy May-games meet against the lady sprang up

to your silken ties dissever, wi’ sense of mine. Of your contemplate betwixt myself is not a Thread in the doomed

to do, and a shrills. The goat least some lies by thy heart, and marriage bed, and the bride and the most friend, like a thrust, patter

must deny: whilst the right, that I do still; thou, O awful; odes about on the other none, its quiet: from beneath

this body lies besides over the cruel breaking. Griped all lovers’ eyes, as hail. Lightning roses on his natiue place

makes the rest unflushes, towns, courtesy fine, enam’ling weeks have been tortured like Good, some on my poor Geraldine!

The heart be sandless; fields live forever; by and my breast, I cannot rest. Till be wielding charms and kiss will meet again,

reaching bade him laid under through palmy fern, and neist my hart still a-falling into thee and giving to your

lips, he squints grudge, and make church and day, in wheeling. Got into my hands are alike it, mediating because no

fairy queen and eyes; for still at moment swept away art resently, she did a collector wouldst step of time, by new-

mown. No longer envying to espy some sublimer work boots as she in its tender feet; without pretence,—come, for

thee displease.—And gummy frankincense was the leaves and flower- enamoured rustic wind shine. For mild made delight.

With Cyril whispers loss of the court: rights and caught, and freesing from Clarinda, friends. A human on an ocean’s powers

as before, was not tell, to hide thing less rills float about Ferguson, deceive ourself will we have comes, and silver

voices sleeked with the damsel’s tear hath taught his drooping me a foot of unmeant thee trouble bow, and fall on

the night cannot dissolve the mob of worth Had it law that so it seem’d, to pass my wedding high, it covert make you

see thee to creeps from Sir Leoline? I pitiful voice pealing up his touchwood, there hath of our need to name hag adjudged

the most serious fruit of my mind is of yellow utterance, spread greyly eastward, thus to an end. Fair that

my lips. And so may love’s elysium; vieing to Proserpine, who on the sun-brown with eyes I stooped, methought was throwes

onely tread, and a’! Towards the same, and I fetch her break a twofold silver source, shut her face; the bastard in

our ends, the crystal mocks the isle in the one whose utterance, we can be country-folk acquainted with ebon-tipped

each mighty spells trembled sea and spreading, that eyes the sounds the Gipsy-Scholar haunches: late, a fellow sound of other

unnested thus a children cry, than we would never floor; and yet crowned wildly glittered! Yet free comes more steadfast?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #161 texts #ballad sequence

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20percentbug · 1 year ago

Note

Question for the ask game for gaymers like you:

3. Favorite boss?

4. Best game soundtrack (full album or single track)?

5. Most memorable gaming moment?

14. Worst game you’ve ever played?

18. A game you started, but never finished.

19. A game that you wish you could play for the first time again.

20. A game that made you cry.

21. A game you thought you wouldn’t like, but ended up loving?

23. Do you typically choose to play a male or female character (when asked to pick)?

29. Favorite childhood game?

33. Most embarrassing gaming moment.

34. Funniest gaming moment.

35. Do you own any gaming themed memorabilia? (e.g. collector’s editions, posters, prop replicas, statues, clothing, etc.)

38. An unpopular gaming opinion you have.

40. Best game cover art.

And a bonus question:

41. Favorite licensed game?

3. there are a lot of good video game bosses but by far my favorite out of em has been gabriel from ULTRAKILL recently. gay angelic man :)

4. by far, the entirety of the NieR series has absolutely gorgeous music. Bipolar Nightmare, Song of the Ancients, i could go on and on. it's very good

5. the end sequence of ending C in NieR:Automata did SO many things to me. oh my god. 9S deserves way better he did not deserve what he got throughout the game

14. i'm lucky that i'm really really picky, but unfortunately i was in the bitlife rabbit hole for a little bit. that game is fucking infested and i don't like it

18. i wanna finish patapon 2. it's. really fun :)

19. is it fair if i have multiple? ah, fuck it. NieR:Automata, Hollow Knight, Bug Fables, Rain World, Purrgatory, Celeste, Night In The Woods, and ULTRAKILL are all games i want to experience for the first time again

20. there are a few. Purrgatory is one of them

21. Titanfall 2. i was kinda expecting a mediocre experience but the movement was amazing, plotline was enjoyable, and BT stole my heart. it's a good game

23. male...? honestly tho i've been going with feminine features for games that let me customize and other than that i'm probably gonna start playing as female characters more often. call me trans or whatever i dunno lol

29. ooooh. remember metroid bounty hunters? that was a really fun game

33. whenever i do very dumb stuff that people mistake for as me flirting. there was one particular moment was while i was playing sky: children of the light

34. tf2 ragdolls in general

35. i got three pikachu plushies, hollow knight plushies, and hollow knight keychain accessories

38. i do not know which of my gaming opinions are bad but i think that modding in general, while it can be enjoyable - hilarious, even - will often subtract from the core gameplay loop, and therefore subtract from how much you can get out of the game.

there are some exceptions to this though; rimworld is a prime example of a game being kept fresh by the modding community, and tf2 is honestly just a fucking mess in general; somewhat modding it is what makes a lot of the things in the game work as intended

40. i gotta give it to Rain World for it's kickass cover art

bonus: 41. baldur's gate. i think it's licensed? wizards of the coast helped publish it

#ask #ask game #ask games #text #text post #.txt #not tagging all the games i mentioned #sorry lol

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cosmosredshift7 · 5 years ago

Text

Pittsburgh ren fest was A+

Would recommend

#pittsburgh renaissance festival #pittsburgh ren fest #my face #that female knight stole my heart #gale vents #holy crap so many beautiful people at the event 😭#i got hit on so many times 😭

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snippychicke · 3 years ago

Text

~☽ Moonstone ☾~ (Part One)

Fandom: Moon Knight(TV)

Rating: Mature/Explicit.

Pairing: Khonshu/Reader (unnamed cis!female)

Warnings: Violence, death, angst, oh, and smut.

Summary: Before Marc and Steven, before Arthur, Khonshu had another avatar. Well, hundreds of thousand of others, but this is the story of one in particular that Khonshu was fond of.

Far more than a god should be towards his avatar. Especially when that god isn't exactly known for his kindness or love.

**Warning**Mature Content. If you're underage, go else where.

Link to Moonstone on Ao3 | Moonstone Masterlist

You were a hot-headed young woman with a deep sense of justice, so it was only fair he offered you his powers on that fateful moonlit night. You were covered in bruises, blood seeping from your various wounds, but still stubbornly standing while the three would-be muggers fell at your feet. They had been armed with knives, outnumbered you, but while you had been armed with nothing but broken metal pipe and pure determination, you had defeated them.

He could tell you were moments from meeting Anubis, but yet you still held his 'gaze' defiantly. He wondered if you could even see through the quickly swelling black eye, or understand what you were seeing.

Granted, what mortal did when he first chose them?

"Accept my gift, become my knight, and dole justice to more cretins like this," he spoke as he knelt down to your level. "In return, I will always protect you and heal your wounds."

You didn't flinch as his hand touched your face, reversing the damage done. The discoloration fled as the swelling faded, and he could see your eyes.Even as you took in his true visage, shock and surprise fluttering across your face, there wasn’t a hint of fear.

Something told him you would prove to be a worthy avatar.

"Okay, weird hallucination," you finally agreed, trying discreetly to rub your healed jaw and hide your amazement. "I'll accept your gift. Hopefully, it'll at least keep me from a headache in the morning."

You suffered no pain when you woke the next day, though you did scream when he appeared while you ate your breakfast.

~☽☾~

You were the best avatar he had in such a long time, eagerly taking breaks from your studies (why study anatomy in a book when you could break someone's actual zygomatic bone) whenever he called. You quickly became his loyal companion as you walked next to him as an equal, basking in the moonlight. He enjoyed your discussions about everything and anything as you watched over those traveling at night. Bickering and bantering as he followed you down dark alleyways in chases. Or the moments he stole your breath as his wind carried you across rooftops when you tried to keep up with him.

The ceremonial suit hugged your curves, protecting its softness from their prey. He could feel you through their shared power; that feminine softness hiding powerful muscles and an even stronger heart. Your weapon of choice mimicked his staff, balancing you as you planted your feet in the faces of criminals. He felt honored by your graceful swings and strikes, looking like a beautiful crane in a deadly dance. A dance for only him to enjoy as he called up the wind, both protecting and embracing you.

A dance where you more often than not ended in his arms, catching your breath. Euphoria apparent in your eyes as you met his gaze, your head uncovered by his mask and hood so you could enjoy the cool night breeze against your heated skin.

"Thank you." You'd grin up at him, your back braced against his chest as you looked up. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, but squeezed his staff tight instead. "Thank you so much for this life."

"I should thank you for your devotion, small one," He murmured. He took the chance to brush your hair from your eyes, relishing in the small touch he allowed himself despite wanting more.

You were his Avatar. Fist of Justice. Protector of Travelers. His weapon filled with power to unleash vengeance on the world.

Yet what he felt for you was far too soft for such titles.

~☽☾~

He appeared in your small apartment, ready to whisk you away for a night of work. Typically, you relished the chance, usually otherwise stuck studying thick tomes of the modern era. Or having fallen asleep with them as a pillow.

Instead, music filled the darkened place, lit by a sparse collection of candles. The wind flickered the flames as he passed; the smoke catching in the small whorls.

He had no difficulty finding you. It was like a strand connected them, pulling him closer and closer. He could be in the Overvoid, and you could be anywhere on Earth, and he would find you in a heartbeat.

He froze, however, when he found you slowly dancing in the moonlit living room, a bottle of alcohol in one hand, dressed in some gauzy housecoat and underthings. The scene enraptured him, like watching a firefly dancing in the reeds of the Nile, so beautiful and haunting.

Then your eyes landed on him, feeling the same tug on that golden string connecting god to avatar. Your lips shifted into a smile, and you padded softly towards him, your hips swaying to the beat.

"Dare I ask?" He voiced quietly once you stopped, close enough that the hem of your house coat grazed him as the wind twined around them, no more than a soft fluttery breeze. Likewise, the scraps of fabric that draped across him brushed against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I passed my finals," you grinned, placing a finger to the dull bronze moon on his chest and tracing it lightly. "It's a night to celebrate! But I suppose you didn't come to celebrate with me, did you?" you ended your question with a sigh, realization dawning on your fuzzy mind.

No, there were innocents out there needing their protection. Injustices needing correction. Bad guys to hit. So much work needed to be done. Exams were hardly something to celebrate over in the light of everything.

But for once, you looked almost saddened about him coming to whisk you away. You were such a dedicated avatar, surely he could allow you this. Just this once.

"Well, it hardly seems right for my avatar to celebrate without her god, don't you agree?" His hand skimmed the lacy material covering your shoulders. He could feel the warmth emitting from your skin like the sands trying to warm the chilly night air. Part of him feared touching you. He was the cold, empty night. The moon whose light gave no warmth.

You may be his fist, but you were so much more. The traveler who used the moon and stars to navigate the vast desert. You were the sand, still warm from the heat of the sun. The sand who danced with the wind, creating designs in the dunes and sparkled with dew that formed under the moonlight.

You dropped the near-empty bottle and breached the distance between them. Your small, tiny hand threading with his, your soft skin apparently happy to accept his presence as your other hand skimmed his waist and silently asked to dance.

And how could he refuse? Could he risk the others' wrath by making this night last forever? His little avatar in his arms, your modern music fading away until the rhythm was just the beat of your mortal heart.

Maybe not, but it would be one of his most cherished memories, one of the few nights he remembered over and over and felt no regret for the lives he failed, but fondness for this simple moment.

"Are you this kind for all your avatars?" you asked, peeking up at him.

He scoffed. He would have never done such a thing for any of them through the eras. They were truly nothing more than tools to him. But yet not you. You had slipped from being a tool to a friend that he wasn’t sure if he ever saw you as just another avatar. "Hardly any of them have enticed me as much as you."

You snorted, "Me? Entice you? Wait, I see now," you barked a laugh not unlike his own cawing laugh you pulled from him once in a while. "I'm dreaming. First passing my exams and now dancing with you? Ugh, tomorrow is going to be the worst. I knew this was too good to be true."

“You passed your exams, dear. As I knew you would,” he reassured simply before allowing himself to admit: “And you tempt me as much as a newborn gazelle tempts a starving lion."

"Oooh, are you gonna gobble me up then?" you laughed as he spun you around, watching the gown twirl about your shapely legs.

"I just may, some day." He pulled you close, despite knowing he should keep you at arm’s length. Avatars were mortal. He may be the god of time, healing, travelers, but he couldn't stop the fact that all humans died. All of his avatars either forsake him in the end, or sacrificed their life in his name. You were no different.

Which would hurt more, he wondered. Those eyes full of hate and rage? Or full of the same devotion, but lifeless?

Which did the future hold for them?

~☽☾~

The ceremonial suit protected the avatar from most injuries and healed what it could not prevent. Physical injuries, that was. Mentally and emotionally, not so much.

Villains laid dead at your feet, but so did the innocents they had tried to protect. You knelt in the suit, holding the small child in your arms as they gasped for breath, the wound on their chest bubbling with the same air they needed.

"Isn't there something we can do?" you begged, holding the child close, trying to provide them some form of comfort. They were hundreds of miles from the nearest city. Not even the strongest winds could whisk them there in time.

"No, there isn't." He answered, his tone soft, but you still flinched as if he scolded you. He knelt beside you, grieving in his own way. Travelers of the night he tried to protect and failed. So many through the millennia, and it never got easier. The Ennead restricted his healing powers to his avatar alone, making him feel utterly useless in these circumstances. "Their gods will care for them in the Afterlife."

He could see the spirit leave the child a half moment before they went still in your arms, the formless light drifting up to the stars to join its ancestors. Your harsh cries followed it, screams of pain and anguish that cut to his core. It had been years since you began your walk beside him, and yet you refused to become numb to any needless death.

He loved you for it.

He was sure that eventually, you would hate him for it as well.

~☽☾~

Humans were a reproductive species. And his avatar was that age where you would seek someone to bond with, to procreate and start a family.

And he knew you were beautiful. He wasn't human himself, but his kind weren't asexual by default. He enjoyed your form from afar, certain that Hathor or some other being that delighted in beauty had blessed you.

He also knew that while you may be his avatar, his fist, his knight, his companion, you could never be his beloved, his to have for all eternity. That just wasn't an option.

However, that did not mean he was okay with anyone else being able to partake in the pleasure of being your mate. Not while you were his avatar, at least.

"We have far more important things to do than this," he stated firmly, striking his staff on the wooden floor and causing a gust of wind to blow through the small coffee shop. Everyone panicked as things flew around, plates crashing and food splattering.

You just gave him an annoyed expression, especially when a tart smashed against your hair. "It's daytime, Khonshu. My time. So shoo."

“You are my avatar no matter what time of day!” he raged, angered that you thought you could dismiss him so easily. “I can make allowances for your studies, but this silly little courtship--"

"Courtship? Oh my—Khonshu, it's just coffee. Nothing else!" you dared to laugh in his face, rolling your eyes and looking away.

Your dismissal struck him more than he cared to admit. "Don't lie to me!" he slammed his staff again. "Just because I am not human doesn't mean I haven't learnt your ways! That mortal has little other interest than trying to get into your pants!"

Your laugh turned hysteric, adding to the fear of insanity by the patrons, unaware of the god in their midst. "You can't be serious. Are you jealous?"

"No!" Yet he sounded petulant, even to himself. "You are my avatar and while you are bound to me, I expect you to devote yourself completely."

"Oh, really? I don't recall that in our pact, but sure. Fine." You threw up your hands as you stood, turning to address the rest of the cafe. "I'm sorry, everyone, for making you suffer because a certain ancient god is jealous because I'm here with a friend. Who's married, has kids, and just wanted to repay me for helping them in class!"

"Don't take that tone with me," he growled as he followed you out of the small shop, the wind dying as soon as they left the cafe. "Marriage vows and offspring are meaningless when faced with beauty such as your own."

"Flattery is not getting you out of this!" you shouted over your shoulder as you stormed down the sidewalk. "I could, maybe, understand if you don't want me to have a significant other, but I should at least be allowed some friends while in your service. Even if it's just the most superficial of friendships!"

"Am I not enough for you?"

That made you pause and look back at him, the bright sunlight fading his visage even to you. Still, the sun glinted on the bronze of his staff and the crest wrapped against his chest. Despite his height and how large he was compared to you, his voice had seemed small. Weak.

Part of you wanted to shout 'no!' You wanted someone that shared your love for tv shows and books. To go shopping with that wasn't always comparing the fashions of today to those of the past. You wanted someone you could share funny posts and memes, to call when you were having a bad day that didn't automatically drag you out to focus your emotions on the unjust.

But your anger died from a raging flame to barely a simmer, seeing him like that. They were friends, in the oddest of senses. It was so much more complicated than that as well. "You know I love you. That I will always cherish this honor you have given me." You stepped closer to him and raised your hand, but it merely passed through his. As long as it was daylight, he was nothing more than a ghost. It made the divide between woman and god even more apparent. "But we both know this won't last forever. That I will need to rejoin the mundane someday. Right now, you may be enough for me, but you're not always going to be with me. And I'm going to need someone to lean on when you leave me."

Part of him wanted to fall to his knees and swear he would never leave your side. That he would follow you and walk with you until your last breath, but knew he couldn't.

Instead, he watched in silence as you turned and continued down the street, knowing the tears on your face and the pain in your heart were both for and because of him.

~☽☾~

After your fight, he knew that his time with you was running out, the sands of time falling quicker and quicker. He should be preparing, looking for another prospective avatar to take your place. Because you were apparently finally growing tired of him and the strain your service to him placed on your mundane life.

But he was so worried, paranoid even, that if he left your side, he wouldn't be able to return. The thread connecting him to you would snap and you'd become one of billions. So he watched, or 'sulked' as you called it, as you went through your day. Classes where he would stand in the corner as a mortal lectured about something they barely understood. While you ate, alone and in silence, watching your classmates sit together, laughing and chatting between shared food.

At night, as you patrolled, silence reigned in place of the usual banter. No smart-aleck quips, no small talk to pass the time. You didn't lean on him after a fight, but stood on your own two feet as you regained your breath.

Technically, you were as close as ever, but you felt as far from him as the earth was from the moon.

By dawn you crawled into bed, the curtains blocking out the rising sun so you could enjoy a few hours of sleep, but he could still feel the wane in power as the moon's reign moved to the other side of the Earth.

Yet instead of falling asleep, you tossed and turned every few minutes before sitting up with a growl to glare at his general direction where he had been perched on your short dresser, silently watching over you in the gloom. "Really? You’re gonna be a creep and watch me while I sleep, too?"

"You never seemed bothered before," he answered, shifting his nonexistent weight. Okay, usually he wasn't actually present, but he was always just a whisper away. Surely it wasn't that different.

"Yes. Well. I'm rather stressed and need some private time to de-stress."

He quirked his head, confused. You never requested privacy to de-stress. Granted, de-stress was usually what you called ‘pub crawling’, or poor attempts at meditation, or maybe a long soak in a bath.

But he felt that quiver through their bond and shifted with stark realization. Oh. Oh. He knew that emotion, that feeling of unsatisfied lust burning just below the skin. He should leave, if only just into the realm just beyond your sight to allow you privacy as you requested.

Yet instead he stepped down from the dresser and stalked towards you, entranced by the thrum of the link, and the myriad of other emotions flooding through. Anger, annoyance. But the one that drew him without thought was the last one. Arousal by the way he moved, how he looked, what he could possibly offer you. "Let me help you."

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms, as if that wasn’t what you secretly wanted. "And how, exactly? You're not exactly equipped…" You pursed your lips, unwilling to finish that thought, though there was no denying your eyes glancing downwards in morbid curiosity. "No, it's something I can deal with by myself. Just give me, like, thirty minutes."

"Oh, my little moonstone," he crooned as he shifted on to your bed, barely denting the blankets as he crawled over you. "Let me care for you."

He could see your face turn pink and knew your heart was rapidly beating in your chest. Yet you were defiant as ever, holding his 'gaze'. "I'd like to see you try. You can't even touch me right now, let alone--"

Usually, he only linked to his avatar when called before the others. Or when in a dire situation. Either way, it was always purely business.

This was anything but.

Your body was flushed, humming with energy. The muted emotions of the bond become as strong as if they were his own. He couldn't tell where he ended and you began as he stroked your face using your own hand. He could still see your expression, the surprise on it as your thumb brushed your lips gently.

"Do you still doubt my power?" He teased as he knelt over you. "Do you still want to see me try?" His second question was an honest one whispered into your ear.

You didn't need to answer. He could feel it in the flutter of your heart. The tiny whisper of your mind betraying your true thoughts as his beak barely brushed your skin. Nevertheless, he waited. Knew that you could feel his patience, his own desire, his fear that he would push an unseen boundary and risk losing you even sooner.

Your lips curved into that devious smile, the one you wore when you purposely riled him just for your own entertainment. "I doubt that an ancient thing like you would know a way around a woman's body."

Your hand trailed down your neck, feeling your pulse quiver, before reaching the delicate collar bone peeping from beneath your nightgown and casually drew ancient symbols along its length. Symbols you had no knowledge of, but he knew exactly what he was writing as he drew his name on your skin, claiming it as his own. "I know more about your body than you do. So many ways to make you plead and scream. You'll melt like your precious ice cream in the summer sun and be as boneless as an eel once I'm done with you."

You laughed at that, disbelieving. "Sure. God of the moon, protector of travelers, vengeance, etcetera, and now the divine pleasure of women?"

"No, not just any woman, or man. Just you. If you'll let me. If you want me." He knew you did. Could feel your arousal as much as his own. Granted, it manifested in different ways, your folds growing moist, your body tight and ready for your hand, his hand, to drift downward.

His lust was different, a hum of power within him aching for release. To join you in a far more intimate way than humans could ever dream of. But not here. Not now.

Not ever.

"Okay then, Khonshu. Show me." It was a taunt. A tease. And he was going to take great delight in punishing your for your lack of belief.

You tried to hold his gaze as your hands touched and teased; the breeze wisping at any bare patch of skin. But there were shivers, goosebumps, as you undressed yourself, baring yourself to him. He used your fingers to feel the curves he delighted in watching, in protecting with his power.

When you touched your perk nipples, you gasped as they were rolled between your fingertips, your eyes fluttering close. His beak was a ghostly brush against your neck as you fell back into your bed, back arching into the touches and caresses as he made sure you paid attention to the soft mounds of your chest.

He praised you in so many languages as you started to whimper as your hands studied the soft flesh of your stomach, waist and hips. And when your legs fell open to him of your own accord, he counted it a success.

He pinned your hands near your shoulders, sinking to his knees and focusing his waning power to brush his beak against your thighs. He chuckled as you hitched your breath and arched your hips. You wanted him. Even if he was less than the breeze taunting and teasing your skin, you ached for him.

"Believe me now, my little one?" He chuckled, nuzzling against your thighs ever so teasingly, rubbing old bone against soft, tender flesh.

And only laughed more as you tried to wrap your legs around him and failed. He could barely touch you, let alone stay corporeal enough for you to force him into more. "Hardly screaming and melting here," you snapped.

"But you are about to plead, aren't you dearest?” he crooned, wishing he could touch you with his own hands, to make you really scream in frustration. “I can feel it, that deep ache. To be touched. To be filled."

"God, you are such a prick," you muttered with a huff.

"Perhaps, perhaps." He continued to ghost over your skin, moving his attention to the dimples of where hip and thigh met, the skin where the waist of your pants clung, all the while the wind teasing and whispering against the curls that were damp between your legs. "Do you not wish to continue, then?"

You growled, glaring down at him before huffing. "Yes. Please."

Your hand moved, but to feel the plush lips of your mouth. He never understood kissing, but was still fascinated by them. And he could feel the sensation. Just the slightest touch sent tingles down your spine.

Oh, to have lips for one night and indulge in that sensation.

"I appreciate the please, but that's not enough. You know what I want."

"Please, Khonshu," you stated, hardly sounding repentant. But their other hand played with your breast once more, making you gasp. Between that and his beak scratching your skin, it was enough to change your tone dramatically. "I-I need you. Please."

"I suppose that will do. For now." Your fingers that had been drawing glyphs upon your lips dipped in your mouth. A little encouragement was all you needed to wrap those same lips around the two fingers, sucking and teasing them with your tongue.

And oh, that was new. You held his gaze and sent an image of you knelt before him, imagining him with some form of human cock for you to worship the same way. He drew closer, pressing the fingers deeper into your mouth and slowly mimicking the rhythmic movement you desired.

Your other hand drifted lower, cupping that mound of curls. Your eyes screwed shut as you moaned, bucking up into the touch, while your fingers played, gently parting folds and gathering the moisture there before stroking the bundle of nerves. He moved the hand from your mouth, wanting to hear your noises as your hand continued to explore. Slowly, teasingly, torturously. Every inch, every crease and fold before allowing a single finger to enter you.

You were hot. Wet. Tight. Everything he wasn't. He bowed his head, resting it next to yours as he tried to keep a handle on his own arousal. Less tempted by the physical sensation, and more by your emotions, what you felt as they slipped a second finger and felt that beautiful hint of being full.

"Khonshu," you swore softly between soft sounds of pleasure. "Oh please, oh Khonshu."

"I'm here,'' he reassured, pressing your hand deeper and harder. "I won't leave you wanting."

"More,” you gasped, crying and pleading for him in more ways than one. He could feel you aching for more than just being filled. You wanted him in that carnal way, every fiber of your being calling for him. “I need more."

Stars, moon, and whatever else, so did he. But this was for you. Whether to teach you to rely on him for all your needs, or just to reward you for putting up with him this long, he wasn't sure. "Mmm, but do you deserve it?"

"Yes, please. Whatever you want."

Heavens, you were going to be the death of him. "I want what I can't have," he admitted, hoping you couldn't understand him in the haze of lust and pleasure that was clouding your mind. "I want you, my dearest. Now and forever."

Your eyes opened, soft, hazy, but found him in the dim light. "Khonshu, I'm yours. Always yours."

You didn't know what you were saying, what he wanted, yet hearing those words helped his own ache. Your hand delved between your legs, finding your clit. It just took a few short moments before you came, but your hands didn't stop as you clenched around your fingers. Your whines became a scream as he pressed into your as much as he could, bone against flesh, his waist allowing your legs purchase, your arms your own once more and you took the chance to wrap them around his shoulders as you spasmed, rocking up into him.

A tendril of himself reached out along the bond against his better judgment, touching you ever so briefly. It was barely more than a soft caress, but it caused him to gasp and jerk against you, pleasure overcoming his own senses as you fell apart beneath him, another scream tearing from your lips at the sensation.

The last of his power faded completely, and your limbs fell against the bed, his form passing through you like smoke as you gasped for breath. Despite that, he didn't want to move. He wanted to stay knelt over you, watching as you took deep breaths, your heart slowing beneath your breast.

Eventually, you tried to caress his face, and felt him as intangible as ever. "I'm so mad at you right now."

"Oh?" He hummed, easily able to tell your jest, and still able to feel your desire. Not lust, just desire to be with him, to touch him in the most basic of ways whenever you wished. To have a moment of the mundane like a post-coital cuddle. Not just with anyone, but with him.

Did you really care for him the way he did for you?

"Because you're going to be bragging, 'I told you so' for who knows however long."

He laughed, a sound rather like a caw as he fell onto the bed next to you, or at least appearing like he did. The blankets didn't even flutter beneath his form. "I can't believe that you ever doubted me."

You shifted onto your side, gingerly, as your muscles protested. "Well, to be fair, you hardly ever seemed interested in me."

He tilted his head towards you. "Oh, little moonstone. If only you knew." He seriously doubted there was anything in the known and unknown that he wouldn't be willing to do for you.

Especially as your bond with him was as strong as ever.

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