#the guard and the priness

[todayisafridaynight]

Crack AU where Majima and Daigo are princesses but Majima keeps flirting with dragons and running straight into dangerous situations while Daigo keeps getting kidnapped, was pushed into his duties and some high and mighty rich society guy keeps eyeballing him

it's a nightmare in this castle none of these bitches can get a break !!!!!

[thefcw]

Open to: f & m (if m only bottoms.) Plot: medieval times. after winning the war your muse, a royal family member (prince/priness, or close relative to the previous king who has a claim to the throne) has been caught alive and brought back to the palace only with Joseph on the throne deciding on their fate. Joseph can be your muse's uncle, cousin or distant relative

War was thrilling but also exhausting business and Joseph was glad to be done with it. Without much work members of the court made their loyalty or disloyalty known which made it easy to get rid of the trouble makers. Most however recognised Joseph’s claim to the throne due to being of the royal bloodline and even though many did not agree with Joseph’s methods some were even glad he was victorious.

The only concern left was the remains of the previous royal family, the members who had survived. Executing all of them would have been the easiest way but also unpopular. Giving them mercy, and using their royal blood for his own gain, would help raise the public opinion in his favour. They were brought to him after the court was dismissed, leaving only the guards and a few of his carefully selected men to admire them with him.

Sitting on the throne, an uncomfortable one at that but the previous king always had an impractical taste, Joseph looked at them for a moment in silence before smiling, “Now, what on earth should I do with you?”

[mononijikayu]

chapter xi.

chapter xi.

Rating: Semi - M

Warning: Some depictions of violence and implications of violence;

Summary: In which choice reigns over the heads of MELLARA TARGARYEN and her husband DAEMON TARGARYEN.

[there were many who had wondered if the marriage of the princess of blackhall and her rogue husband had been a marriage that was truly perfect. the mummers act on the stage with such precious courtly love and the singers sing of ballads that detail their defiance in order to be together. yet, it must be understood that while their marriage was of love, their marriage was full of contradictions, of concessions and anguish. priness mellara had married another man, which quelled the prince into anger. the prince had contracted lovers in the street of silk, which had forced the princess to question the love her husband had given her. yet in each turn, they return together in a warm embrace. even if such love burned the two of them, they endlessly yearn for each other.]

- maester aeron targaryen; adust

A D U S T   m a s t e r l i s t

< you and i burn together or we shall die trying >

chapter i  / chapter ii / chapter iii / chapter iv / chapter v

chapter vi / chapter vii / chapter viii / chapter ix / chapter x  

chapter xi / chapter xii / chapter xiii / chapter xiv / chapter xv

chapter xvi / chapter xvii / chapter xviii

It was something to behold to Aemond Targaryen, seeing a woman in the courtyard. But the sight of his aunt Mellara Targaryen in her breeches, sparring with her eldest son was a sight to see. There was such ease with her hold on the grip of the sword, her back drawn lower by the gravity. A devilish grin echoes on her lips as she rises, swinging against her back. It was now prince Aemon Targaryen’s turn to dodge his mother’s thunderous response. Aemond could only watch in awe as his cousin swung his famed black mace against his mother’s space. 

The thin Valyrian blade glistened like a lightning rod as it clashed against the blackened steel of his cousin’s Valyrian mace. There were words he could not hear, but by the laughter of his aunt and his cousin’s shaking head, it was not something the son of the rogue liked. It would seem that just as he had his mother’s honorable grace, the prince Aemon also had his father’s shorter fiery of tempers.The princess of Blackhall continued her offensive, at each turn deflected by her own son. Each clash seemed like a song to Aemond, a song of grace and anger glistening into one. Like a roar of dragons in the sky, antagonizing one another. Two fearsome dragons were battling in front of him, giving no quarter to the other. Soon enough, the courtyard began to succumb to the folly of many spectators, intrigued and awed at mother and son.

Many had considered that his aunt had no liking for the sound of clanking blades, just as much as she had hated the sound of armour. Aemond had heard in whispers that in youth, the princess would be with his uncle Daemon as he inspected the city guard. Yet, Aemond Targaryen could not find himself to believe that his aunt would ever partake in such world. The city guard were the most brutish of men, he had seen some of them at the keep himself. His aunt would never suffer such sight  Aemond understood the truth far better, even as the child he was. His aunt’s father, prince Aelor Targaryen, was had been the one to teach his only child the way of the sword. People say he had no mercy on the training yard and that is what had made his aunt resent the sound of metal clashing together. 

Aemond did not truly know, but that is what he would believe. All those moments with her father in Blackhall’s courtyard had paid off. Mellara Targaryen was remarkably swift as a swordswoman in her own right, mayhaps she could best ser Criston Cole if she tried. The bards do sing of swift and beautiful Mellara Targaryen quite too often at court. Much of it fawned over her, even at some points adding boddy movements that offended his mother. Queen Alicent would often tell the bards to play something else as she glared at them. His aunt merely laughed at them, telling them it gave her a good laugh. His father would agree with his cousin, at times laughing himself. But his mother had found distaste with the way the bards had corrupted the court’s morals. 

His half-sister had argued against that, arguing that  if their aunt and father could humour in it, then why does not the queen do so. His mother had frowned and argued, but the king refuted her displeasure. And yet, Aemond Targaryen found himself liking it when he heard these songs. They were well told stories with harmonious tunes.The young princeling could not help but feel reminded by his own childhood for a brief moment  His father had used to tell him tales of women from old Valyria and Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, Visenya and Rhaenys. Their grace and strength had led the blood of the dragon on the Iron Throne. Though, Aemond could not help but think that his aunt Mellara had been more of a beauty than any of them. Much more when she smiles ever so happily, or when she was full of mischief in the corner of her eyes. Her cheeks turn color through like a rosebud, her eyes would shine like the starry night sky.

The princess coaxed her son harshly with taunting words in their native tongue, beckoning him forward. The heavy mace seemed almost but a wooden stick with the way his cousin Aemon Blackmace lifted it and spun it around. He stared at his mother determinedly, before he slammed it against his mother’s space with all the might of the warrior. Princess Mellara found herself laughing as she jumped backwards, eagerly languishing in a teasing tone that her son missed. The young prince curses at missing, lifting it up the heavy metal rod with ease and clashing it against the princess’s Valyrian steel once more. The princess of Blackhall cheered her heir’s determination, holding the grip with one hand and the blade with another. She pushes her son and he does the same. The gasps and cheers started to rouse excitement and anticipation.

The sound once again resounding across the courtyard, people’s gasps grew louder as the princess of Blackhall pushes her son backward slightly with all the weight of her small body. There was struggle clouding her eyes, her son’s broadened figure overshadowing her. Mellara turned to look at the muddy ground and swiftly pushed her son’s boot with her own downward with as much force as she could release onto it. Prince Aemon Blackmace did not react but he noticed how his heel had lost its footing. There the feet stayed stranded into the heavy mush which caused him to look. Mellara then pushed her son with a kick and soon saw himself down on the muddy ground, groaning as Mellara let herself take a small breath, before shoving her sword near her son’s face. 

Aemond was awestruck as the princess laughed and retreated her sword from her elder son’s face. His cousin Aemon huffs the dense air, catching his breath as he nodded, accepting his defeat. The crowd of nobles and servants had cheered at her victory, her son soon laughing with his mother. Mellara Targaryen turned to her son’s squire, a Karstark lad, at once calling him. The older boy rushed and shifted herself to surrender the used Valyrian steel blade to him. The boy became squimish with the weight, red faced as he straightened himself. Valyrian steel was heavy, that he knew too well. The poor boy was approached by his cousin’s knight, who took it from the scarlet faced child. The princess gazed at her elder son, who had already sat up. Aemond watched as his cousin felt the sun against his face, closing his eyes. Soon enough, he opened them once more, he too asking for his mace to be taken by the knight. 

Standing up, the young heir of Blackhall was taller than his mother. Aemond knew that his elder cousin and he were only a few years apart. But he had heard that his cousin was near his age when he had retained his knighthood by force in the Stepstones. His imposing figure occupied all the space as he towered over his mother’s body. Aemond wondered if he would ever grow as mighty and tall as his own cousin, but he prayed to the gods that he would also be as swift and cunning as his aunt. After all, together they would seem to be a deadly combination. Aemond watched the two converse for a brief moment, the mother gleefully gazing at her son. The princess was very close to her eldest, perhaps because he was her only child with his uncle. But Aemond was certain that that she was just as affectionate to her younger Tully sons and her grandchildren. How could she not. when her heart is warm as the hearth’s flames?

In a few moments, the two of them embraced. His cousin smiled at those that greeted him and headed away with his entourage. Aemond thinks that he would see Rhaenyra and her children, he was certain. It was only a matter of time when his aunt Mellara too carved her way through the crowd of courtiers that surrounded her. Aemond observed that many of them were the lords and ladies that crowded his elder half-sister at court functions. The Blacks, his mother and her retinue called them. Mellara greeted others briefly, shaking their hands and showing pleasantries. She did not miss a single one. Aemond watched as she made his way to his side, where the ser Criston Cole stood behind him with silence on his lips. Mellara stopped when she saw her nephew and smiled curtly, bowing his head to young Aemond.

“My prince.” Mellara says, turning to Criston Cole nodding at him. “Ser.”

“Good day, princess.”

“I did not expect to see you here, nephew.” The princess quipped to them.

“I did not either, aunt.” Aemond admitted to her. “I was on my way to my lessons, with the grand maester.”

“Ah, I see.” Mellara nodded swiftly. “I hope you did not mind, nephew. It was a rare occasion. My son had asked me for a spar.”

“It was a good spar, aunt.” Aemond replied to his aunt, still awestruck. “I had never thought to see you do such a thing before.”

Mellara laughed. “Tis but a one time thing, dear boy. I was but a replacement. Your cousin dearly missed his father, and of course his brothers. Unfortunately, they had all but returned to the Riverlands with their father.”

“You still did well, aunt.”

“Oh, dearest nephew, if you see your cousin against ser Laenor or ser Qarl, it would be quite a different story.”

Ser Criston raised a brow at the princess, but quickly rescinded it as he stiffened from attention. His aunt Mellara still noticed, causing her to laugh bodily. “Oh, do not feel so terribly, ser. You have duties to the court, do you not? I am certain my son did not wish to disturb others from their routines.”

The whitecloak turned red in embarrassment. “I didn't mean to react in such a way, princess. My apologies.”

“That is alright, ser.” Mellara shook her head. “I was not offended. This a queer thing to see a woman fight in these walls, after all.”

“I wish to know more, aunt. How you fight!”

Mellara chuckled at her excited nephew. “My prince, I do not think I will be an effective teacher. I am sure others could teach you much better than I ever could. Perhaps we can ask the kingsguard when you return from your lessons, hm?”

“But, aunt-”

“How about this, little prince?” Mellara says, taking his hands onto hers. His aunt’s hands were warm, but firm with the texture of silk. “I know more about dragon riding than swords. If you wish, after your lessons, I shall come and teach you about them. So that you will be wiser once you get your dragon.”

Aemond’s eyes shined with anticipation. “Do you mean it, aunt?”

“Yes, but only if you finish your lessons swiftly.” She brushed his hair with her fingers kindly. “Now, I shall have to go. I will have to meet with my good-daughter.”

“Of course.” Aemond nodded, watching his aunt straighten herself. “I shall seek you out later, aunt.”

Mellara gave him a parting smile, waving. “I cannot wait, nephew.”

In that moment, he watched her depart with her lone figure.

Aemond Targaryen could not help but admit he felt such warmth.

His heart fluttered alive for the first time in his life.

There was much to be done, such work she detested. Mellara Targaryen had not been one to like politics, but it was something she could not avoid. Much so in the capital. This was the center of power, of intrigue, of debauch hunger and greed. Her father had told her much about the ‘life sucking vultures’ in his rare visits at court. Mellara had been uncertain if he was talking about Otto Hightower. She was certain, though, that they were many sycophants at court. Now more so from the queen’s faction of Greens, who were determined to challenge their influence at court. There were fun games here and there, Mellara can admit. But soon enough, she became exhausted of their repetitive arguments, full of dulling sounds.

It was obvious there was no righteous cause on their hearts, they were here to be blinded leeches, playing the game of politics to finally find satisfaction in their greedy hunger. Mellara was sickened, how corrupt the games had become. It was as though weeds had infested her home, rotting the red walls until nothing is left of it. For a moment, she wished she was not here to deal with these problems. In her dreams, she dreamed of Blackhall and the laughter of her father and mother as they danced in the solar. At times, it was Driftmark she longs for, with sweet Laena leaning against her skin as she carressed her  growing belly. Daemon and Aemon playing with the dragon twins in the shallow sea. Mellara yearned for the peace she had happily indulged in these past few years. 

Yet as she sat there dressed in fine red and black silks, filled with ermine fur across the sleeves, Mellara Targaryen feels like her skin was itching with irritation. It was as though the weeds were everywhere, even against her flesh and bones as it eagerly takes advantage of this moment to strike against them once more until nothing was left. Mellara had a duty to her niece, she knew that too well. Her pledge was always to never abandon her. it was what she had sworn to Aemma at her deathbed. Still, Mellara resents that she was far from idle. Her own aged body has started to enjoy the dwelling of peace, one that she had not enjoyed in so very long. 

Mellara could not help but envy her husband, who sits across the sharp strip of sea separating them. He now languishes his part in self-exile in High Tide, happily sitting in the sun without the concerns of the politiking of the capital’s vipers. Mellara thinks this would be an easier voyage, had her husband and sister-wife been here. Daemon himself was a shrewd mind, filled with his own routes to escape the political turmoils that would cause the headaches. 

But over the years, her husband had grown to detested the life that he lived endlessly placed at the center of greed itself. Blissfully, he had embraced the seasoned laughter of their children and their grandchildren, when he gets to see them. Mellara could not blame her husband for relishing in the peace. They were not getting any younger, and for so many years, the quiet had been robbed from them by too many storms that had been thrown in their way. Peace is what they deserve after all the sufferings they had endured, Mellara agrees too well.

Elmo likewise agrees that their sons should remain in Riverrun. Living a peaceful existence, playing in the warm waters of the Trident. Daemon too had heeded his wife to refuse any summons for their grandchildren to be at court. He has been refusing Baela and Rhaena being brought to ward at court for a while now. Viserys had been urging Mellara to help change his brother’s mind, but Mellara Targaryen shut her mouth. She agrees too well with her husband. The Velaryon boys were already at the center of the game, as much was the younger children of her kingly cousin. There was no need to bring more of the children to the stirred poison of the dangerous intrigue children have no need to know about.

It is difficult to argue with herself that she was frightened that there could be more troubles to come. She was a mother, a grandmother. Of course, she was was afraid of things going out of hand, of seeing agony in suffering, or even of intense brutal clashes that swiftly erupted into the worst of conflicts. After all,  she had witnessed first hand what the pull of first blood entailed. She too understood the smell of blood, the taste of it, as very few do. All of it would be awful.That meant death, a brutal one. For too many innocents. And many of it would be unaccounted for, that she knew too well.

Yet, Mellara knew there would come a day when this would happen, and she realized it would have been soon. Far too soon than one would ever hope. If her family would suffer, then.... Mellara Targaryen has had too much knowledge of what fear looks like and she could feel it in her veins. Mellara couldn't help but feel sorrow burrow deep in her when she closed her eyes for a while. She could not help but remember people who lived beyond these confines. People who live only for the pleasure of life, in abundance of peace and quiet. Summers that never seemed to finish. She was aware that many of them will be gone in the future years. Mellara breathed in deeply and pondered what may have been beyond this. Beyond the existence constrained by the squabbles of those who occupy power. Above and beyond this insanity that humans had made of themselves, almost like gods that dwell with wanting more power, of endless shamelessness pondering for greed.

She was tired of all this. However, Mellara knew that abandoning her family had a deeper repercussion. Rhaenyra was the king’s heir, anointed by holy oil and the grace of the family’s proud name. Mellara held the train of red velvet cloak herself, acknowledging her niece above all, to be the queen to be She felt no shame for her devotion to her niece and she should not now. Mellara frowned as she squeezed her flesh brutishly, as though telling herself to wake from her fear. Mellara knew that there was no other way. 

No other way but to put herself in the front, a servant and warrior. She would not be the cause of Rhaenyra’s weakness, she would not weaken the resolve of her niece’s cause for her fear. She pursed her lips hard, feeling the weight of obligation flood over her. The weight of the mantle she had to carry. Her father wouldn't have wanted this to happen; He would have never let the fear fester in him. Not if it was for the sake of his family. Mellara needed to be tough, strong. Like the dragon she was. She had to be the person her family required of her. The blazing candle light is a guiding beacon in this darkness. If not her, who else?

"It was very sweet of his grace to allow you to utilize the gardens for your leisure, princess." Alys Stark said warmly, she gaze fixed on the little royal children as they pranced around the gardens. "It is a good day to stroll outside these days.”

"Indeed, it was my suggestion, cousin." Rhaenyra retorted with a whole smile. "It's a good change of scenery for the children; after being cooped up inside the chambers. I'm delighted they're finally out and about to enjoy the beautiful weather."

“Much too many green roses, I must say.” Alys touts as she looks with disapproving, sitting beside her amused husband. “It does no justice to the keep. A horrid mismatch, indeed.”

Aemon Blackmace raised a mischievous brow. “Then shall we paint them with the maester’s ink, to blacken them?”

Alys smirked at her husband’s response. “Be my guest, husband. Command a maester inside now and we shall begin.”

“Save yourselves the trouble and bring the black roses from Blackhall.” Mellara suggested, a goblet in her hand. “Do you not think so, Rhaenyra? They would suit the garden better. You have seen them in person, after all.”

“I am sure they will do well agains the reds.” Rhaenyra quipped, causing the princess of Blackhall to laugh. “Just as Aegon the Conqueror would have wished.”

Mellara smiled. “My dear, all of Blackhall is yours to command.”

"I've made sure the queen’s servants are gone, your grace." Ser Harold Westerling whispers to Rhaenyra, bowing his head.“As you had commanded, Prince Aemon’s own personal guards had been placed across the dwelling, princess.”

Mellara turned her attention to the swinging of red cloaks stiched with black maces. Her son nodded, pleased as he watched their heavy armor of molten black shone against the sun like a blackening night. They stood firm, holding long silver pikes with edges spiked with heavy nails. Swords sheathed under their tunics, they stood with endless pride. She turned to her son, who was focused on one of the men. Her son’s eyes pierced through the young man, the way her own husband’s would. He was not standing firmly, she saw. The man gulped, shifting his posture sterner than before. Finally, her son turned to his mother, smiling gently.

"Thank you, ser Harrold.” Rhaenyra nodded to the whitecloak. “You may guard the children now.”

The knight of the kingsguard bowed his head with reverance, walking towards the Velaryon boys. Alys could not help but smile against the rim of her goblet.

“It’s quite sufficient to have soldiers on hand, truly.”

“We have my son to thank for it.”

Aemon snorted. “You should thank yourself, mother. I have the delight of your treasury and your confidence, of course.”

Mellara shakes her head. “You were the one who found the men and trained them. We are most grateful for your hard work.”

“You do deserve it, cousin.” Rhaenyra says, smiling at him with the most genuine of smiles. “Your presence is much to be thankful for.”

Aemon shook his head, bashfully drinking his wine. “Not at all, cousin. It is much needed.”

Alys took his goblet and drank from it. Her grey eyes swiftly pondered across the garden. “We have no time to lose though, good-cousin. There is only so much we can say without the queen having one of her spiders crawling in.”

"They could be anyone. Like bothersome moths to flame." Aemon’s eyes darkened for a moment. "I have yet to find the culprit behind the queen’s farce.”

"It's quite alright." Mellara spoke clearly, handing her goblet to her good-daughter, who filled it. "I will fly to High Tide today, to seek out your father’s expertise.”

"Uncle Daemon?" Rhaenyra raised a quizzing gaze. "Are you certain that his exile would not be enough reason for you to refuse you?”

Mellara laughs, thanking her good-daughter. "He will not refuse me. Not that he can."

“One must forget the strength of my father’s devotion.” Aemon says with confidence. “He will heed her request. Even if it is finding his old friends for help.”

"Very well.” Rhaenyra nodded back at them. “i shall trust he will find a bird to rid us of the troublesome spider.”

“Cousin Laenor should return later,” Aemon straighten in his seat, looking at Rhaenyra. “We must speak to him about sending the boys to ward for your good-father.”

Alys looks at her husband in thought, “Perhaps. I think that would get them out of harms way for a while. Lucerys is needed at Driftmark.”

“No,” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened slightly, “They are too young.”

“They are old enough, cousin.” Aemon replies to his cousin, smiling at her. “Lucerys was around Alys’ age when she was fostered to us.”

“And it ended up for the better.” Alys nods, grinning against her goblet. 

Rhaenyra eyes her aunt, who sighed and nodded. Mellara could see it in her eyes, her niece is not yet ready for separation.“It should be well, if you talk to Laenor about it. Mayhaps speak of a trip first, to see if the boys shall enjoy Driftmark for an long stay.”

“Very well.” Rhaenyra pursed her lips, before slowly nodding. “When he returns, we shall talk.”

“I must bring up what happened at the small council.” Mellara gazes at her niece. 

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, her eyes shining with fright at the thought of today’s happenings. “We shan't speak about the delicate nature of it.”

“Of course.” The princess of Blackhall nodded. “However, I shall speak of the delicate matter of the Brackens and the Blackwoods.”

Aemon shrugged into his cup. “My stepfather has heard their petition in Riverrun. I heard he tried marriage matches too, but it seems the Bracken girl kicked the Blackwood heir in the shins and it started a brawl in the woods.”

Alys Stark snickered. “It is not of the nature of either house to make peace, husband. It was destined in the stars.”

“Yes, but one would have thought only for the loyal Blackwoods.” Aemon says, nonchalantly.

“You say that with utmost confidence, my son.” 

“Well, one would if we have to be bored by Amos Bracken’s nonsense.”

“Regardless of our bias, a good united Riverlands is needed.” Rhaenyra reiterates, looking at her aunt. “You must make sure of it. Use your influence on the Tullys, aunt. It is the only way. If the worst comes to wear.”

Mellara pauses to look at her niece for a moment, pursing her lips as she nods. “I shall see what I can do. I will send a missive to him when I return to my chambers.”

Rhaenyra took her hand, squeezing it with appreciation. “Thank you.”

"There is no need for any thanks, niece.”

“We ought to speak about the Reach next,” Her son continues, emptying his goblet swiftly. “I am certain of the Caswells and the Beesburys willingly support you.”

Rhaenyra stands to fill a goblet. “As they are. Beesbury remains to be our faithful friend in the council.”

“Isn’t your former lady a Rowan, good-mother?” Alys asks, raising a brow. “Surely, they will follow suit.”

“They shall,” Mellara nods with certainty. “As will house Tarly. Lady Jeyne has been wed to lord Tarly for a long while now. They shall not forget a promise.”

“My trouble circles around Highgarden,” 

Mellara raises a brow at her son. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Lord Tyrell supports your claim,”

“But he swore a vow to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim.”

“As a promise to you,” Aemon reiterates to his mother, “But not to Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers drifted to her rings. “I....Aemon is right, aunt.”

Mellara shakes her head at Rhaenyra. “None of that. Should the day come, I shall go to Highgarden myself and treat with lord Tyrell. You will have his loyalty in the end. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

“I truly am thankful for your support, aunt.” Rhaenyra slowly calms. 

“What is family for, my darling girl?”

For a moment, the sound disappeared from space.

Mellara Targaryen dreaded outcome of the future.

More than anyone, she knew she was the one afraid.

It was in Daemon’s arms that she found herself finally able to rest. The way his touch calmed her, as his hands scaled the bareness of her back soothed her. The way his fingers made constellations through the smooth surface of her shoulders. The way his kisses upon her neck beckoned her warmer, almost as though he was taking away the storm of winter snows. 

The fire crackling in the distance, the loudness of the silence was profound. But the two of them never needed words. The way their warmth yielded for each other was all that mattered, the way their hearts beat spoke for the both of them. For their love that has lasted the storms of life. High Tide was a respite to the duty that burdened her being. 

When she had arrived in High Tide, it was nothing but relief that had come to her. Laena had been the one to see her, owing to her decision to enjoy the cool sandy dunes with the twins. To embrace Laena again had been such a delight, the smell of seafoam against her skin had made Mellara feel a sense of relief. The babe in Laena’s belly had grown larger than ever before. She was nearing her time, she had told her sister-wife. Any day now, the babe would come. Her sister-wife was happy to know that she would be there by her side at the birth. 

Baela and Rhaena were happy to see her, just as much, jumping on her as they saw her come through the mouth of the cavern, where Blacknight decided to lay for their stay. By her estimates, Baela had grown out of her dresses and Rhaena had longer hair than ever before. Mellara was delighted to know they could be together once more, but to see that they had grown so much in her absence had made her feel mournful at the thought that they would not be children forever. 

‘Oh, how I wish they could be.’ She thinks to herself. ‘But to see them grow is the best joy. Father had said so.’

Laena and the twins had led her back into the keep, conversing about anything and everything under the sun. There was much catching up to do, she knew too well. The girls had been asking questions about the capital, about how their cousins were. Most of all, they asked about their brother. Mellara had answered all of them smiling, although her body was now weary. It was tiring for her to be on dragon back this time around, owing to heavy winds that had caused her trouble on the ay. But it had not deterred her from making use of the time to enjoy the beautiful sight of the sea. Throughout, Mellara had thought of Daemon. She thought of Laena’s soft touch. How she had wanted to feel his body against hers, to hear life pass through Laena at every laugh. She longed for the life she had left behind and now she had returned to it, all of it had felt like paradise. If only the rest of the family were here.

Mellara had known that they would follow suit as soon as they dealt with business at court. Rhaenyra and Laenor had agreed to visit Driftmark with the children. Rhaenys was delighted to hear of these tidings from her when she saw her at the Hall of Nine. Corlys was away in a voyage, but Rhaenys had reassured them that he would return soon. He would be so delighted to see his grandsons, most especially Lucerys. The boy was after all his heir. To hear that the boy has developed an affinity for the sea would make the old lord of Driftmark happier than he could ever hope. 

When Laena had led her up to their bedchambers, Daemon had halted from cleaning Dark Sister and greeted Mellara happily. The letters were not enough for him, it never was. Laena had all but laughed, having seen the gloom drift away from their husband as he kissed Mellara breathlessly. The dragon twins had cried at their parents being so dreadfully intimate, but Daemon had not cared. He had genuinely missed her and he would not care for anyone’s judgement as he embraces her body into his own. The days seem to pass as fast as ever before, joyfully together. Mellara awoke by Laena’s side and on the other, Daemon who would wake earliest in order to train and be with the girls.

Most days, Laena and Mellara accompanied each other, striking a conversation that had lasted hours on end. These days, the confinement had become a little loose. Laena had voiced her distaste for being locked up for so long. Daemon had tried to settle her, but Mellara had understood Laena best. She argued with Daemon until he gave in. They walked together at the beach head, or sat together in the solar. They spoke about their lives away from one another throughout the years. They spoke about the children, about the grandchildren. As Daemon busied himself with tasks in some days, most of these small adventures were between the wives and the dragon twins.

The peace she had been longing for had been so beautifully calming. All she had ever wanted was this, genuinely so. And yet, the itch of the work had dragged within her skin once more. Mellara had started to drift away to a desk to write back to the capital, to her son and Rhaenyra. At times to the lords and ladies she trusted. The most hefty of the letters scrawled was for Elmo, whom she missed dearly, but also relied upon in the Riverlands too deeply. Even in her personal grievance in missing him and their trouts, she knew she could not call on him to return just yet. There was much too many disputes left unattended by Elmo’s ailing grandfather. Yet even then, she demanded of him his aid in each and every letter. Elmo did not mind, he understood his duties too well. 

"How long have you been awake?" Daemon questioned her, their native tongue echoing through as they made their way through the steps, Laena following behind her husband in a brisk pace. Mellara gazes at him briefly before returning to the parchment she wrote upon. “What is this, wife?”

“There has been trouble at court, it would seem.” Laena chimes in, raising a parchment. Daemon took it, absorbing the words. “Rhaenyra plans to move to Dragonstone.”

The rogue raised a brow, intrigued. "It would seem she has lost patience with that Hightoer wench. As she did with my brother, I presume."

“Indeed.” Mellara nodded, yawning. “It would seem to be the case.”

Laena looked to the side. “Well, at the very least they will be nearer. A shorter flight to meet, yes?”

“Yes, but a horrible blunder.” Mellara pursed her lips, her fingers startning to hurt from her tight grip on the quill. “I should have been there to remedy it.”

“Nothing you can do with a court of sycophants, dearest.” Laena comforts her, kissing the top of her head. “You should not waste your strength on these fools.”

"You say that to her and yet she still writes,” Daemon narrows his gaze. “What do you intend to do, wife?”

“I am writing to Elmo, to tell him to stay in Riverrun. There is no need to return to the capital.”

“Our son?” The male questioned, a raised brow evident on his face. “What of him?”

“I am sending word that he comes with Dragonstone. Take the entire family there.” Mellara retorts back to him. “Blackhall will be handled by a trusted castellan in our absence.”

“And your mother?”

“She’ll come, from White Isle.”

“Mellara, little dragon. You could do this in the morrow.”

"I can do it. I can, I just feel tired, that's all." She forced herself to try and hide her worries, putting them aside. Lifting her head, smiling. "I haven't been sleeping well. It would be better to make use of my time.”

"Get the maester to make some nightshade." Daemon tells his younger wife, looking at her with a gentle look. Laena nodded at her husband’s direction and bid her return for later. Daemon placed the small of his hand upon her head, leaning forward, which forced her to look back at him. The prince placed a small kiss upon her forehead. "You will not continue this tonight. Do it once you’ve rested. I will not hear another word from you, little dragon.”

"I will rest soon, my dear Daemon." The elder wife retorts to him, looking upwards meeting his glistening purple eyes. "Surely I can take myself down on my bed and gain my strength as soon as I finish these missives?”

"No, I would not take risks when it comes to your health, my little dragon." He contradicts her, leaning beside the desk. "Laena will come with the nightshade and you will get some sleep.”

"I am fine." She insisted defiantly once again. Daemon paused, which caused her to pause as well. The two gazing at one another once again. But there was something different. Especially with the way Daemon gazed at her with a straight face. One where she could not decipher his thoughts. Mellara had hated such a time, where his own thoughts were imprisoned by himself. ”Daemon, I have told you. You must not worry-"

"I had waited years to be with you again. Years." Her husband says sternly, causing her to grimace at the burning passion under his purple haze. "And you would so desire to hurt yourself, to ruin the limits of your body to ensure the will of others? Mellara, you are a fool.”

"Daemon…." She whispered to him, her eyes filled with sorrow. He finally saw it. Her heart softened as she then moved to look away, ashamed of her fear. Her rogue husband had been a vicious person, he could be cruel. But he speaks the truth. As he always does, when no one wishes to say it.  “I…”

"You are frightened of what might happen." Daemon whispers plainly as he watches her emotions pave through her features. "I understand it. But there must not be any dulling of yourself into a sickbed. It is not only foolish, it is selfish. Too eager to put yourself down for others and yet not for yourself. For the sake of this family.”

"Daemon, saying such a thing to me will not stop situations from occurring," Mellara says, her quivering hands revealing her dread. "It doesn't stop anybody else, least of all the Hightowers who attempt to exploit our weakness."

"The Hightowers will not come here, nor to Dragonstone." Daemon reassures her, taking her hands into his. "Whatever may come, it is nothing against us. Our family. Our house. It cannot lay a finger on us. Nothing will tear us down.”

"I know that," Mellara said, shaking her head, her eyes focused as she placed a hand on top of his, disregarding her surroundings and focusing just on him. "But I can't help but be concerned. To act on those impulses.”

Daemon came to a halt, as did Mellara, yet he did not loosen his hold on her body. He just turned to face her, his towering stature causing him to stop his head to stare into her lovely young face. Daemon had never gotten tired of her. Mellara Targaryen had always been a marvel, a stunning blossom of starlight he could never hope to reach. A star that always slips away from his grasp at day break. He always considered her to be excruciatingly dashing, no matter how she appeared. After all this time, there was nothing to mar her awe. Her attractiveness. The life he had discovered in her. Daemon Targaryen set fire to his wife. Burned a thousand times in want, in longing. They thoroughly burn each other, to ashes that build each other.

He admired the way her lips quivered whenever she was upset, lamented the way she smiled too much like the Maiden had appeared among them, and yet the disgruntled face was one he adored. He liked the way she worried, but he didn't like seeing that expression on her face. He didn't like her drowning in many concerns. He had promised to take on such heavy pains for her, when he declared his love for her all those years ago. 

Daemon admits that he had never been in love before. He had no idea how to feel it. Sure, he cared about his family, but it was a different type of love. That was not his feeling for Mellara. He felt more than he had anticipated. When the storms struck, it resembled being hit by a tidal wave. The renegade prince couldn't articulate how he felt, but his mother had always told that love was difficult to comprehend. You can sense it but never articulate it. When he glanced at his small dragon, his heart skipped a beat, slow then rapid. His chest felt warmer, and his stomach was filled with churning movements that seemed like butterflies in flight. 

He felt compelled to remain at her side at all times. It wasn't simply desire. It was more than that. It was as though he had experienced the essence of a life well-lived. A life of satisfaction. A life of never ending happiness. Daemon yearned to feel it, every moment. To remind himself of his purpose. To live.

"Do you know how much I love you? How much I burn for you, in each passing day?" Daemon inhaled as if there was no oxygen in his lungs, yearning for her relief given to him. Mellara's purple orbs sparkled like a new day on a grassy hill. The way they sparkled made him feel out of breath. He couldn't get enough of her. "Do you, my sweet dragon?"

"How strange. How I cannot explain how we feel this burn." Mellara whispers, standing from her place as she walks towards her husband. Her lips quivered in a small bow, unable to say anything at the intensity of the feeling of his tightening hold. "But I suppose there is no words to be spoken. I am lucky with you. How well I had used my choice, of loving you.”

"When we performed our pact of choice, I made my decision." Daemon professes to her, his hands eagerly tightening its grip on her back as his cheek rested hot against her own. "If there must be a battle, I will slay those who prevent me from you. I will give hand and limb to protect you and your honor. I will wage war upon those who seek to hurt us. All upon your word, I will spill blood on thousands upon thousands and have no regrets. Need only say the word, my little dragon. But I want you strong, I want you able. I want you as the Mellara I had always loved. One that can rest to be the strength of her family.”

"Oh, my beloved.” She whispers to him, hot under her breath. “My husband.”

“My wife.” He breathes her in, yearning for her deeper. “My little dragon."

"Oh, the gods blessed me with such a husband," she murmured against his lips. "And I loved him deeply, and I will love him well, I love him till our flame turns us both adust."

"Then I am highly blessed," he panted to her as she raised her head and met his gaze. "Because I was greatly loved by the wife I had chosen. My darling. My only heart. My Mellara."

The embrace of dragons were a marvelous sight.

Yet the fire and blood that such love builds together.

The flames of love can destroy the realm apart.

Time was running out.

[alevolpe]

❤️, 🔻 luna and artemis?

I'll premise by saying that I don't really ship Artemis and Luna, despite liking both of them a lot and their bantery relationship, it wouldn't feel very organic for me to do a jointed hc.

Luna ♥ - family headcanon

Unlike the reincarnations of the senshi, I do believe that both Luna and Artemis share a very similar persona as their SilMil selves.

For Luna her devotion to family and duty is one of her strongest attributes. She was chosen early on as a caretaker for many children that were to grow up into soldiers for the Queen and the main ambassador of Serenity. She knew it wasn't a merciful faith, to be born a senshi that is, so she chose to dedicate her life to giving many of them as good a life as she could possibly offer.

Even after death, the love persisted, although it was not the love for the previous soldiers she cared so much for. No, she never regained any memory of her previous life. It was the love of a dedicated mentor, a friend and a mother.

She's very much a mother figure for the team she was assigned to, but especially for Usagi, Ami and Rei. Her family and her duty. Swallowing the guilt, she looks on lovingly and admires how far they've gone. She wouldn't have it any other way.

Luna ▼ - childhood headcanon

I think SilMil Luna had a pretty unremarkable childhood. Despite being born in a wealthy and powerful family, she was never blind to the hardships lower class citizens had to endure every day. She'd pass by slums and decaying merchant tables everyday, everyday she witnessed the inequity the Moon Kingdom had caused.

Her first time on the Moon she was left astonished. Even living in one of the wealthiest sections of her region, she never had seen such haunting perfection. No stone out of place beneath her feet, not a section of the road left unlit, not a wandering thought in the guards' eyes, no dark corner hiding the mistakes of their society.

Despite only humans walking among her, nothing ever felt more estranged from the concept of humanity. Luna never felt more terrified.

Artemis ♥ - family headcanon

Luna struggles a lot with separating family and duty. She knows that given her situation, the two must collide at times, but I see Artemis being at peace with the idea that the two can be one and the same.

He retains all his memories from his past life, he's aware that the people he loves and cares for are here for a reason, a reason beyond being there for him. It's bigger than him, than any of them.

This is prob my wildest hc and it might change with my narrative moving forward, but for the time being I see Artemis as one of Queen Serenity's sons.

Unlike Priness Serenity, who I hc as very self-centered and almost uncaring to those she deems will not give her attention, Artemis did love his mother. He was not blind to her faults, but he could truly see the suffering the Crystal was putting on her, a corrupting force slowly fracturing an already broken will. He believed in his mother's ideals of an utilitarian society, although he knew the approach was a far cry from what it should have been. Serenity wasn't human. She could never understand they lacked the ability to peacefully maintain such order.

After his death he had a lot to reflect on. He wasn't angry. He understood that ultimately he was just a tool. He wasn't meant to live as long as them, but why a cat? Was it a punishment? Left to live only long enough to guide them to the right path, but not long enough to let him witness their future. Luna was a traitor, as so her punishment was clear, but for him it felt even crueler. Left with the memories of what was and the inability to see what will be.

He chose to believe the Crystal had chosen his destiny. That it wasn't her. That despite what she had become, at least some of her smiles were the token of a mother's genuine love.

Artemis ▼ - childhood headcanon

Gotta admit I haven't thought much about either Artemis' or Serenity's childhood or what type of mother Queen would have been to them, but I know for sure that she didn't treat them equally.

Not saying one was neglected or tortured or anything like that, but she definitely knew that a man couldn't be the next in line for the throne, so she couldn't dedicate the same amount and type of attention to him as she did to Serenity.

He saw his mother as very loving, despite her being rarely if ever openly affectionate, especially as the years went on. He grew ever so hesitant to bother her, all his questions about life left unspoken, his needs and interests always taking backstage when in her presence.

Despite the two emotionally growing more and more distant, as he grew into a bright and diligent young man, he never left his mother's side. Eventually earning a place as one of her trusted advisors.

P.S. sorry it took me so long to answer this. I genuinely don't have an excuse.

[coffee-latte-sprite]

The Guard and The Princess Masterlist → Currently on Hold

Masterlist

Knight!Jason Todd x Princess!Fem!Reader

Playlist

WC: 27,600 (atm)

All Warnings: mutual pinning, low spice, angst, small talk of homophobia, misogyny, child abuse, discrimination of status, mild-language, talk of assassination, jump cuts, violence, fluff, major character death, mild suggestive content

Synopsis:

The Princess of Noreska, the heir to one of the most powerful thrones in the world. Known for her beauty, elegance, and grace. Little do they know she is one of the most stubborn, unladylike, princess anyone has ever met. But, for some reason, her guard loves that about her, a grave mistake for the both of them. But what happens when she is going to debut into society and soon to be married? Especially when tension is already high with reports of anarchy to the crown.

Chapter Index:

Teaser || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Epilogue (wip)

[chascah]

Ylgr: Hríd said, he doesn't trust you. Why did he still let you be my guard?

Helbindi: He would be stupid to trust me... And I'm fed up with serving stupid Kings...

Ylgr: That's not an answer.

Helbindi: Argh, just shut your cake-hole, you brat! (he has absolutely no idea)

*****

I think about Book II too much...

What if Helbindi survived Surtr and he decided to try his luck, and went to Nifl, to join them and stay close to the annoying little brat he almost died for? Hríd must know about every detail of Ylgr's escape since she loves to speak, so he should know what Helbindi did for her. Plus he has to keep in touch with Laevatein for political reasons, and she could inform him about Helbindi's murdered sister. Helbindi looks like a total creep, nobody would like to see a guy like him with his little sis. But knowing his past, and the fact that letting a former general of Muspell guard a Niflese priness is a strong peace messege for both nation, he would give it a try. He could beat the shit out of him anyway if anything goes wrong...

White is not really his color. But gods, their situation would be so cute and hilarious.

[yrs-art]

Green d: you know it's funny because I always saw pink as the girly girl and white as the tomboy.

That's fairly common since most see Pink as the "little sister, naive new comer" aka the priness and white being the leader would traditional have more masculine traits.But then you'll remember Pink was head of the military it seems (nearly all her know gems were quartz and she's had adgate (probably Onyx as red is a common color) guard which are design for terror)I always viewed Pink shares more traits with Amethyst and Jasper than Rose in terms of personalty, Jasper more so since Pink Diamonds are formed as a result of volcanoes erupting so her hole probably looks similar. And it's pretty safe to say White is the opposite of pink so yeah.Plus a legit honest Disney princess will mad scientist traits as a villain would be interesting

[lamiaward]

Once upon a time, there had been a princess. Fair and kind and bright- she had been everything, and more. Once upon a time, she had been rich and safe and loved- treasured by her parents and her subjects. Once upon a time, there had been an evil sorceress and fairies.

Once upon a time, there had been a betrayal.

Aurora, whose main fault may have been trusting people a little bit too much. She wasn't naive, per se (she knew that there were bad people, that there were wicked people even), she just refused to let her life be overshadowed by the fact that the people around may turn out to be different than she had thought, and hurt her. So she never thought 'but if if they are fibbing, or attempting to use me for their own gain'. She would listen patiently as her parents explained that some people were 'maleficent' and would kiss dad on his cheek and embrace mama as she promised she would be careful.

Never mind she wasn't, not really.

She made friends with everything. She laughed as she sang along with the birds, and let them sit on her shoulders when they got tired. She kneeled and gently picked up the mouse, then gave it a place in the kitchen where it always had enough food. She closed her eyes and hugged her horse's neck as it ran and ran and ran ( further and further away from the castle she could never bear tell her parents she hated).

She met a woman with beautiful horns, intricate marking and soft fur-like covering, and gently bound her injured shoulder. She endured her scorn with a sweet smile, and helped her stand. She took a small step back when the woman kept trying to push her off, but remained near in case she would fall and needed to be caught ( Aurora really wasn't as fragile as people believed).

Even this woman - lonely for all her scorn and scowls- was eventually swayed by Aurora's charm and they became friends, despite the horned woman's reluctancy to actually ever call Aurora 'friend'. No, she had a lot of nicknames (and if she were very serious, it would be 'Aurora') but she never actually used the 'my friend' or 'darling' that Aurora liked.

So years passed, and Aurora had many friends. She had the birds, the mouse ( or actually its children) , the cats that used to be kept in the kitchen ( until princess Aurora's gentle insistence that they were moved to a room where they would not hurt the mice) and her subjects and the fairies. And , of course, her very special friend: Maleficent. Who was so very dear to her, and had such a delightful sense of humor ( and a smile which disappearance and rarity Aurora often mourned) and such a lovely voice.

Life was good. Life was peaceful. Life was everything Aurora could want.

Until it wasn't.

The betrayal was swift, sudden and bloody. When her presence had been asked for, she hadn't thought anything of it. She had hastened towards the spiralling staircase where her friend had required her presence, and she still had not seen it (not even when that smile had felt so wrong) not until it was too late.

She saw the fallen guards, and felt it. She had just enough time to glance at her own hand ( the single droplet of blood, a nice contrast to the ebony of the spinning wheel) and speak the fairy's name-

and then there was darkness, for a long time.

It was the darkness that kept her from feeling her father's tears fall on her cheeks, and her mother's kiss on her forehead. It kept her from hearing the pans drop in the kitchen, the swords everywhere in the hallways and the cutlery in the dinner room. It kept her from seeing people start to yawn, and her mother be caught in her father's arm before he , too, slowly sunk to the floor and closed his eyes.

Her heart would have bled, adding to the blood of the princes that bravely attempted to free her (only to be crucified by the cruel thorns that wrapped around their arms and drowned their screams in blood) , if she could've known about the suffering off her people. She would've begged them to just move on, 'let me be, my life is no important than yours' she would've said.

But she couldn't.

And so the princess slept, and dust formed on the arms around the slumbering queen, and the cook with her head resting in the birtday cake and the thorns grew. Always growing, until the splendidness of the castle was overshadowed by the writhing of the thorns, and the skeletons that were in their grip.

And then she came. She rode the priness' horse ( Aurora had left it there that fateful day, and ran instead) and slid off it. The thorns immediately reached for her, and there were little droplets of what could be blood ( except it wasn't red) before green smoke, and fire. The thorns were too late, and trapped; the fire was everywhere, that hungry fire.

There was smoke from the fire, and then there was a woman again - instead of the frightening creature of before. Without the thorns, the gate opened at the touch of her hand and the tap!tap! of the woman's heels echoed in the empty hallways. It was the only sound, so there was nothing to warn the woman when the large chandelier she walked under, suddenly crashed. Before it could hit her, it vanished and only puffs of green smoke remained.

There were accidents like that as the woman walked through the castle; walls that suddenly collapsed, windows that exploded without cause, parts of the floor that caved in. But the woman never got hurt, and there was always green smoke after the newest incident. And then, she finally reached the most important chamber.

The bed chamber.

The princess was on her bed, hands intertwined on top of her chest. The woman carefully approached her, and gently wiped away the dust coating her face. The sun rays reached through the stained glass behind them, and put a spotlight on the two of them.

The woman muttered a quiet 'please' before gently bringing her head down, trembling hands on the princess' cheeks, lips softly pressed against dry ones-

the princess gasped, and her eyes opened so they could see the tears in the eyes that were hovering above her-

The woman started to speak ( or tried to, but the emotions were too great) and the princess smiled more brightly than ever, and gently grabbed the woman's horns to pull her down. She whispered the name like a prayer, her lips moving against the woman's-

" Maleficent. My love"

And Maleficent smiled that had-been-rare smile and kissed her princess again.