#the image is a patch I embroidered

[gay-victorian-astronomer]

trying to figure out good ways to represent galaxies on fiber is the bane of my life

because they’re so nebulous with lots of loose fuzzy detail it’s hard to approximate that with stuff like embroidery that’s more controlled & almost regimented?

obviously pixel art is a thing that exists but I do Not have the patience for that

they’re really best suited to mediums with less control like paint. people have also had success with needle felting (an example of which I just reblogged) but I don’t know if that’s durable enough for what I want it for

so far the best solution I’ve thought of is getting custom fabric printed in swatch sizes to use as patches, but that’s limited to like 8” squares. that’s not the worst because the CCD camera also outputs squares so I can use the images I took this semester, and I think I can do some cool stuff with that, but. screm

why must galaxies be so pretty yet so difficult to depict

[jasperthehatchet]

my bag 🌿⛓️🌻⚙️ more details in the image ID and more pics below

I found a small plain black leather backpack at the thrift store for $6 and made it my own :) I used silver sharpie for the swirls and made the buttons all myself with the exception of the metal ones

[Image ID: a small black leather backpack covered in patches, buttons, safety pins, studs and silver and metalic green spirals in the spaces with no patches. There are four patches on the front, an orange patch with a white trans rights symbol sewn on with white thread, and a circular green patch with a simplistic sun and moon drawin on it in black (a mirrormask patch) sewn on with black thread. And on the front pocket on the bottom, theres a dark green band patch with white lettering that says "she past away" sewn on with white thread and a black patch next to it with a red anarchy symbol sewn on the bag with red thread. There are silver spike studs lining the edges of the bag along the zipper and on the front pocket as well as soda tabs sewn onto the front pocket flap with off-white thread. And on both sides of the pocket there are safety pins decorating the empty space next to it. There are four pins on the side of the bag, a light green and white spiral pin, a light green and white "eat the rich" pin, and a metal fairy pin on the top half, and theres a metal frog with an umbrella pin on the front pocket in-between the two patches. Theres also a small orange carabiner on the pocket zipper.

On the left side of the bag, there is a patch on the bottom where a side pocket would normally be. An off-white band patch that says "bauhaus" in black lettering and it's sewn on with black thread, and there are silver spirals around it filling the space. There are some areas I left blank to make the swirls/spirals look like they're hanging down or growing up the bag like vines. There's a horizontal seam above all this that makes the area look like a pocket, and above this seam there's a metal pin with a sun, moon and stars on it.

The right side of the bag, there's no patch where a pocket should be, I instead filled this space with some spirals and more handmade bottle cap buttons. Two buttons, a larger type o negative band button that's black with white thorny vines, and a smaller red band button that says "doom scroll" on it in off-white lettering. Above the seam on this side I drew a bunch of silver spirals that look like they are growing out from behind the seam.

All thread mentioned in this post is embroidery thread, and some groups of spirals drawn on the bag are metallic green. End ID]

Here's the top of the bag as well as the straps that hang down

[Image ID: the bag has a rounded arch shape, and across the top of the leather I drew a cluster of green spirals in between the silver spirals I drew on the sides. There are some blank spots to avoid making the bag look busier than it already is. The loop at the top for hanging the bag is embroidered with a green leafy vine pattern. The same pattern is embroidered on the right strap that hangs down from the bottom of the bag, and on the right one, a gray barbed wire pattern is embroidered. I plan on sewing some more soda tabs onto the top of the bag at some point for the sake of adding more shiny things and also fill up some of that space I mentioned because while I don't want the bag to be too busy, I think the blank space i left on the top is a little too much blank space. End ID]

[thatonebabybat]

Being Masc & Goth

This blog usually isn't fashion-focused, but I was thinking about alt fashion and how it's sometimes a struggle to figure out how to style things in a masc way if you're interested in darkalt fashion, but you don't want to go too casual or basic with it. So I thought I'd throw together some tips, link some DIYs, and maybe throw in a few moodboards. I want to preface this with one thing: You do NOT have to adhere to traditional gender roles. Fuck anyone who tells you that you do. If you're a guy and you want to get into alt fashion don't let anyone tell you that you can't pull off a skirt or a dress or a strappy top. Literally the whole point of being alt is Doing Whatever The Hell You Want Forever. However, not everyone feels comfortable in that (I made this post because I'm transmasc and sometimes the long gothic dresses make me dysphoric), and not everyone is safe to do that ( as much as it sucks ass, if you live in a conservative area sometimes it can be genuinely dangerous for guys to wear makeup and dresses in public, and your safety should always come first), so I thought I'd lay out some tips on how to dress alt and masc from my own experience. I'm still learning so feel free to leave your own advice in the replies or reblogs! General Styling Tips: - Jackets. Jackets, jackets, jackets. Something about a big jacket always seems to give an outfit a more masc energy, and adding a cool jacket to an outfit can be a great way to elevate it and add some extra visual interest. I like black blazers, leather jackets, and black denim jackets in particular, but vests (formal menswear ones or more casual denim or leather ones) can work well too, especially in hot weather. - Any basic black pair of jeans will look 100x more alt if you loosely attach some chains to the pockets or belt loops. Also, pants with wider legs tend to look more masc than tighter fits. not sure why. Slacks can also be a really good and underrated option. - If you want to find good headwear, cool sunglasses have never failed me. You may be able to take some inspiration from Ouji fashion as well, but that's just my personal taste. - If you have a basic piece around, you can add pins, patches, safety pins, etc for a more casual look, or if you're going for something more formal, trims and lace details and embroidery can really add interest and elegance to it. (if you can't sew, you can order iron-on embroidered patches online or find them in craft stores that'll do the trick just fine.) This can take your pair of slacks or plain black blazer and turn it into a piece of formal gothic menswear you can make a staple of your wardrobe. - Find inspiration in your favorite goth artists. There's a lot of really cool goth music out there and a lot of those bands get really innovative with their looks! Figure out what you like about their style and try incorporating a few things in, it's fun! - If you have an alt wardrobe already but it just seems like something's missing or it could use some interest, try switching up the silhouettes or adding an extra layer! Seriously, don't be scared of playing with textures and sleeve shapes! I see a lot of dudes who just wear a band tee and a pair of jeans all the time, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, that can be a great look! But I think a lot of dudes just genuinely think that that's their only option and that everything else just "wasn't made for them" and that makes me a little sad. shred up some shirts and layer them, wear some bell sleeves, throw some extra safety pins or studs on, have fun! No one said masc fashion couldn't be fun. Unisex/Masc DIY Videos I Found:

... And Some Inspiration!

[These are all goth music artists, I wrote the band/artist names in small text on the images that were not already watermarked for those who are curious]

[emkini]

If you've been keeping up with me lately you'll know I'm obsessed with In the Hall of the King Underhill and related stories by @hellenite, so I took the time to create some beeduo character designs!

Portrait shots, design notes, and extras under the cut. Note that everything here is just my own personal headcanons based on how I interpret the characters and story.

Human Tubbo:

Perpetually has plants in his hair, which one might assume he picked up in the forest or placed there manually. Curiously, however, they seem quite resistant to removal.

Will find a way to get dirt on himself, no matter the occasion.

Shares a wardrobe with Ranboo, and so everything is too big on him. Fortunately, he's able to pull it off.

Fae Tubbo:

Is designed to invoke the image of a warrior prince. He is well-dressed, but not extravagantly so. The majority of his clothing is practical, and his grand cape is easily removed should the need arise.

Has 9-point antlers which denote his age and power. His main beams are hooked forward: these are deadly weapons, and he wears them as such. Conceptually, they serve close him off from the viewer.

Is dressed largely in earth tones, but wears a red petticoat embroidered with dark hounds. These symbolize his history of trauma and violence, and hint at a darkness beneath his initially warm impression.

Wears many animal traits in his favored form, though he can reduce their number as needed.

Human Ranboo:

Has a natural white patch in his hair: a result of hair heterochromia. This may also predispose him to anemia.

Often wears a red sweatshirt, which makes him stand out like a bloody target on the green forest landscape. Thematically, this sweatshirt sets him apart from Tubbo and his later self.

Possesses the world's saddest pair of doe eyes and does not seem to grasp the devastating power they hold

Fae Ranboo:

Matches Tubbo's design thematically, but sports a far lighter color palette and dresses in a less traditional manner. Conceptually, his clothing is meant to represent his youth and gentleness: he isn't dressed for war.

Is young for a faerie, and only has 5 points on his antlers. They may grow as he matures. His wide and open spread serves to give him an approachable air.

Wears an oft-unbuttoned jerkin embroidered with scenes from the Unicorn Tapestries. Often interpreted as an allegory for the capture and crucifixion of Christ and/or a celebration of marriage, such a reference seemed thematically appropriate.

Also emblazoned on Ranboo's jerkin, directly atop his heart, is a friendly-looking hound. This references Tubbo's red hounds and symbolizes the part of him which now lives within his husband.

+ A couple of extra sketches from a magma board with @piersthesniper, who makes lovely art as well. Go check out his blog!

[moss-opossum]

I’m making progress with my patch jacket!

Image description: The back of a dark denim vest with a black fabric patch reading “Queer joy” in all caps in white fabric paint. The patch is sewn near the left shoulder with lavender thread in x-shaped stitches. /end description

I need to figure out where to put these next!

Image description: An embroidered white patch with the black text “disabled is not a bad word”, a handmade black fabric patch with “T4T” in white fabric paint, a handmade cross-stitched patch reading “I mask so I don’t bite you” with “bite” written in red and with a red border. The text for all three patches are all capitalised. /end description

Here’s the front!

Image description: The front of a dark denim jacket. On the right breast pocket are a large acrylic pin of an opossum hugging a nonbinary flag heart and a holographic sparkly rainbow Pride heart button. On the left breast pocket is a cross-stitched asexual flag sewn in with dark purple thread, above it is a crocheted watermelon appliqué attached to the jacket with a safety pin, and on the left lapel is a heart-shaped it/its pin with a cloudy rainbow border. /end description

[ahappenstancedoodle]

I need to stop coming up with cool character concepts and start working on world building. But for now... doodled up a cool magic man with a unibrow.

He's hard of hearing so he uses a silver seashell-shaped ear trumpet, and will usually just store it away somewhere and magically summon or dismiss it as needed. Since he does have some hearing, he doesn't need the aid at all times, and it's a bit cumbersome to carry around non-magically.

Also I thought it would look really neat to have him summon it right to his ear without having to pull it out of a bag or something. So half reasonable trait, half rule of cool, hehe.

(Image Description: a digital comic featuring an unnamed original fantasy character. He is an olive-skinned man with short dark hair and a unibrow, and with lighter patches of skin indicative of vitiligo around each eye, on either corner of his mouth, and on his chest, hand, and wrist. He is pictured from the shoulders up in each panel, and wears a dull blue tunic with pale blue embroidered collar and sleeve cuff.

The first panel has him perking up at something said inaudibly - depicted as a blank speech bubble - from out of panel. In the second panel, he says, "Ah. A moment, please," and holds a sparkling hand to his right ear, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. In the third, larger panel, he opens his eyes and smiles, and a silver ear trumpet in the shape of a spiralling sea shell has appeared in his still-sparkling hand, pointing out from his ear. He says, "Could you repeat that, friend?" End Image Description.)

[tiptapricot]

Just received this absolutely GORGEOUS AND BREATHTAKINGGG SubScorp NightKlub AU commission from @feliiixan and I am bouncing off the walls because holy shit.

Felix captured every little detail of this scene with such beautiful, rich, color and care and I am so so thankful that they were as excited to work on this piece as I was to reach out about it! It’s one of theE most gorgeous pieces I have ever received, and I just cannot overstate how appreciative I am of their enthusiasm, time, and skill. Thank you Felix for bringing such a vibrant piece and scene to life! :,-D 💕 💕 💕 You can also find them on Twitter @/F0rshiii to see more of their amazing work!

[ID: two images of a digitally painted commission featuring Hanzo Hasashi AKA Scorpion and Kuai Liang AKA Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat. They are entangled mid battle, Kuai Liang pushing Hanzo down with a hand around his throat and a furious expression. Ice is spreading in spikes beneath where Kuai Liang is choking him. Hanzo is trying to push back, pulling a snarling Kuai Liang back by his hair and attempting to stab his bared throat with his chain spear. Kuai Liang is restraining the hand trying to stab him. Both are breathing hard, their breath pluming in puffs of air. Clouds swirl around them in the background.

They are both wearing different outfits from canon. Kuai Liang is clad in a black leather biker jacket, white shirt, and leather pants, the back and shoulders of his jacket sporting blue patches representing the Lin Kuei, as well as the beginning of his title of “Tundra”. He also has a blue headband, and blue bands tied around his wrists. The patches on his shoulders and the buckle of his belt sport intricate demon faces.

Hanzo has his hair free, laying long and curly behind him, and is wearing a loose yellow silk top over a cream colored shirt. Both are styled after casual samurai inspired clothing. The silk top’s sleeves are wide and the hem of it is long enough to swish out behind him. The top is embroidered with red spider lilies, the Japanese death flower, and there are jagged black lines coming down from the shoulders of it. He is also wearing black leather pants, and black and gold boots with skulls on the shins. His belt sports a scorpion shaped belt buckle from which the chain of his spear originates. The first image shows Hanzo wearing a golden half mask styled like a skeleton’s mouth. The second image is a variant without the mask, his expression an angry snarl. /end ID]

[gilfrespecter]

EMBROIDERED PATCH COMMISSIONS

have you ever wanted a custom embroidered patch but don't want to have to order 100s at a time? well starting at as low as $10, now you can have that!

I have access to a Babylock 6 needle embroidery machine and so much time.

Prices are in USD:

You provide me with an .svg file: $10

You provide me with an image to trace: $25

I design the patch for you from scratch: $150

included in the prices are:

black and white thread

4 thread colors of your choice

3 identical patches

free international shipping

add on options include

glow in the dark thread($1)

more colors than 4, ($2 for each additional color)

making the patches iron on instead of sew on($5)

Here are some examples of patches I've made so far!

Brad is @twiggies-draws traced from a commission of their Brad by @danicloth, middle is Goodness And Sweetness who I've been unable to find the initial creator of despite desperate scouring and @pegglefan69's Ber , and last but not least @cyberstevie's Shrike. If I'm tracing an image you didn't create yourself I will need some proof of permission from the original creator with certain exceptions including but not limited to public domain images. Shipping is not tracked. I reserve the right to refuse any images.

[nightmaretour]

I hate to do this, and it's a long shot I know, but things are getting desperate and it seems like I'm going to be waiting WAY longer than I should be for something that's fairly urgent.

I'm a disabled trans man living in the UK. Recently I was found to have severe anemia, and came up with my FIT test (gastrointestinal cancer screening) a few months ago, and was referred for a colonoscopy to find out the cause, since it looks like I'm having a slow but constant bleed through my GI tract. However, my referral has been awaiting review for over three months now. I'm not even on the waiting list, I'm waiting for someone to decide if I need to be on the waiting list. Since then I've started having GI symptoms such as pain, intermittent loss of appetite, etc. as well as my anemia worsening significantly.

This is of course pretty urgent, but it looks like I'll be waiting months longer once I finally get on the waiting list too. I really have no choice but to get it done through a private hospital, because of the time sensitive nature of, you know, potentially having cancer. I managed to put some money away out of the backpay I got from PIP, but it's not enough.

[ID: A screenshot of an email that's says:

Dear Mr (name blocked out in red),

Thank you for your website inquiry. For your information, the cost of an initial consultation with one of our consultant gastroenterologists is £280."

It then lists the names of 3 doctors as links, all blocked out in red. The email continues,

"The guide price for a colonoscopy is £2,339. For further information, including appointment availability, please don't hesitate to contact the medical secretaries (followed by three names redacted in red) directly on (phone number redacted in red) or call the private patient team on (phone number redacted in red). End ID]

Currently I have around £1,400 stashed away from PIP backpay I got after they royally fucked things up (however I may need to dip into this at points if I find myself struggling). Together the consultation plus the colonoscopy will cost £2,619, which leaves me about £1220 behind. I know I'm most likely not going to get that much from this, but I honestly have no choice but to try my luck here. I really don't know what else I can do.

I really don't like asking for money from people for nothing, but I have a Ko-fi store where I sell handmade screen printed patches, and I'll be adding more designs to it over the coming weeks when I have the time and energy to make new screens. I'm also offering commissions for custom band patches! (Due to Kofi's TOS I can't officially offer patches for bands without their permission.). Below are a few examples of my work:

[ID: 5 images of patches printed in white on black fabric, all sewn onto a worn looking black denim jacket. All are sewn on roughly in red floss, aside from the last one. The first says "only dates I want are tour dates". The words "dates" and "tour dates" are larger than the other text. All of the letter As are replaced with spade symbols. The second is the logo of the band Cop/Out, which is the band name with rough, jagged edges. The third is the logo for The Prodigy, which is the band name in sharp. Zig-zagging letters. The fourth is the logo for the band Subhumans, a stylised skull shouting into a microphone. The fourth is the horizontal silhouette of a crutch. With the words "Talk shit" above it and "get hit" below it. Unlike the rest it is sewn on in black, and the edge of an embroidered back patch is visible just above it. End ID]

I know a lot of people aren't doing well financially right now, and that there are people in far, far more dire situations who probably need your help far more than I do, but I would appreciate any purchases of patches or help you can offer so, so much. Even just sharing the post would be enormously appreciated.

Current progress:

£115/£1220

And of course as pet tax, here's Cynder :)

[ID: A photo of a female wild type leopard gecko laying spread out on a smooth rounded rock in a glass fronted tank. Her head is sideways and raised, looking at the camera with one eye. She looks relaxed and curious. Behind her a large piece of thick tree bark and a plastic cave can be seen. End ID]

[loxare]

Sweater update! All 81 (!!!) holes are patched, and stems are added to the torso. I'm going to add additional decorative flowers and more leaves (maybe some yellow and red fallen leaves), but that's for after I figure out the sleeve stems

[Photo Descriptions: Image 1: A photo of a black knitted sweater with a white diamond pattern. The sweater has a multitude of embroidered leaves in various shades of green along the middle and right shoulder, as well as a large, applique moth on the lower right side. The leaves are connected with stems in various shades of green that appear to grow from the bottom of the sweater

Image 2: A close up of a cluster of leaves. The stems twist around each other

Image 3: A closeup of the applique moth. The moth has a grey body with green horizontal lines on it, teal lower wings with eye spots and other patterns, grey-green upper wings with stripes, squiggles and spots, and bright yellow antennae. There are leaves in various shades of green around it

Image 4: A closeup of the leaves on the right shoulder. Unlike the other leaves, the stems of these grow from the armpit of the sweater

Image 5, in this reblog: Two embroidered leaves on a black knitted sweater with a white doamind pattern. They're made with the fly stitch in orange embroidery thread, resting near the bottom of the sweater on either side of an embroidered green stem. End Description.]

[crippl-hacker]

[Image Description: a handmade black ink and yellow text outline embroidered punk patch saying ‘Cripple Punk’. There is a border made of black dots. The patch is lying on a brown wood grained desk. End Image Description]

I made a patch to go directly between my shoulder blades on my vest. This should be perfectly visible when I’m using my wheelchair as well! I’m stoked on how this came out and I can’t wait to make more disability patches.

If you want to make this style of patch for yourself I hand draw my design with ink before back stitching the outline. I highly recommend doing your design in pencil first to make sure that all the lettering is correct (don’t be like me who ends up forgetting a letter and cramming it in after).

[vampire-meta-knight]

Goth DIY: Altered Clothing part 1

Since some of you crafty goths were interested in seeing the clothing I've altered, I decided to compile it all in one place! I hope I can inspire your creations,give you ideas, and teach you new techniques. This will be a long post, since I've been making alterations to my clothing since high school, which also means some of these projects aren't as polished as others, since they were made when I was newer to DIY and have mistakes I've since learned from, but that's okay! Goth doesn't have to be polished and perfect, and don't let the fear of mistakes stop you from creating!

I've already done posts about the shorts and pants I've gothified, so part 1 will focus on t-shirts, camisoles, and button-up shirts. Part 2 will have sweaters, skirts, and dresses. Some alterations are as easy as adding safety pins or lace trim, and others involve more sewing. Lots of these are very beginner-friendly projects and take less than an hour. All of these items were completely plain when I got them--anything metal, lace, embroidered, or painted that you see was added by me. I'll add more about each garment in the image descriptions. As always, feel free to message me if you want better or more thorough instructions or DIY advice. I'm here to be a resource to my fellow crafters! <3

(Also, please pardon the cat hair and my hair on the clothes--I don't take perfect pictures. A couple pics are also old since those shirts are in storage so I could make room for my winter wardrobe, so you'll notice a change in backdrop and a dirty mirror.)

Let's start with t-shirts and camisoles! Use an old shirt, a thrifted shirt, a shirt from Walmart, etc.! I like to get plain unisex t-shirts from Walmart and paint on them using freezer paper stencils, bleach them, shred them, and/or add safety pins to them. The camis also came from Walmart, and I changed the necklines and added lace trim to make them cuter.

To make a sweetheart neckline on a cami, you can cut it, or you can just pinch the middle and sew it into place (I did that for all of them except the black and white one--that one ended up a little lower-cut than I meant it to, so I decided to stick with the pinching method). The lace trim I used on the black camis isn't stretchy, but still works just fine, as long as you pin it into place while you're wearing the shirt and stretch the shirt a bit as you sew to maintain stretch in those areas. Stretchy lace, like I used on the pink and red camis, works a bit better, but is harder to find. I still like pinning the lace while I'm wearing the shirt to get the placement down, but if you wear a bra, make sure you're wearing the one you plan on wearing with the shirt while placing the lace. I found it doesn't sit right with bras that fit a little differently than the one I based the placement on.

The long-sleeved Emily the Strange shirt has a neat detail, albeit a wonky one because my placement is a bit off sometimes. You'll notice two little striped triangles at the bottom. I cut slits in the shirt and added triangles of striped stretchy fabric, then sewed zippers over top of them to hide the seams and add extra detail. I also sewed the zippers on with red thread for contrast.

My button-ups are a bit more involved. I treat them like how I treat shorts--patches, lace, embroidery, pins, grommet tape, D-rings, charms, chains, oh my! The pink one is my most recent, and I'm so proud of it. All of the patches came from ToothxNail on Etsy, except the Rat King patch, which came from Katiewhittleart on Etsy. The flowers on the collar were buttons that I glued onto flat-back pins from a craft store (I used E6000 glue). Made super quick collar pins that I can remove when washing the shirt or put on something else when I want.

The orange button-up was by far the simplest. I just added lace trim to the cuffs and cropped it (it had been high-low, but I wanted to wear it tucked into a skirt and the long back was annoying me). I also added collar clips with a chain that I got at a craft fair, but that's more like styling an accessory with it than altering it, since I can just un-clip them.

The leather jacket is old and doesn't fit well, so I don't wear it anymore, but I kept it because it was my first leather jacket. Adding the sew-on studs and faux-fur trim on the neck took the longest. You'll also notice that a mouse chewed a hole in the outer shell on the pocket.

Part 2

[an-abyss-of-stars]

𖤓 Don't You Dare Do This Without Me 𖤓 Ch. 4

Pairing: Rhaena x Aemond

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (f), teasing

Word Count: 8.6k

Summary: Aemond faces off against his pregnant dragoness and does his best to coax her into bed with him...Rhaena is having none of it...at first...

.

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ao3 | 

Notes: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT ...incominggg

A little bit of oral to start...

As the heavy aged doors of his royal chambers closed behind him, a sense of deep seeded calm and serenity seeped into his very bones. Aemond had even closed his eye, slipped off his eye patch as he took a deep settling breath. Inhaling that sweet fresh scent before he exhaled heavily, a silent wordless prayer to his soul. 

He already felt slightly healed compared to how he had felt before he'd entered the castle.

"Ao sagon arlī," you're back.

Mmmm…

He'd know her voice anywhere, that soft delicate timbre that was clearly priming like a prelude to a violent storm. Though, at that moment he could care less about the impending danger, she still felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the ever enduring lecture he'd just subjected himself to. Here, it was so easy to ignore the inevitable when his heart ached at the sound of her voice. His blood trilled at the sound of her effortlessly rolled R's, the silky tone that fluttered from her lips in their family's ancient tongue.

"Iksan," I am, Aemond only managed to breathe the word, slowly opening his eye to find her standing before him. A sudden apparition, she'd appeared like a vision. All glittery and alight, utter perfection in her crimson velvety gown. Black lace dragons and flowers intricately embroidered to contrast the red silk. Fitted taut to her bodice, while her skirts flowed loosely. It was as he remembered, the dress she’d had on when he’d initially charged out of this room hours ago. 

That dress…it was stirring it all up again, that storm within him. The things he'd wanted from her…the very things she'd denied him. 

And just like before…he couldn't help himself. The trajectory of where his eye often fell these days, the slightest exposure of her cleavage that led to the ample heft of her milk filled breasts. The near animalistic, unfettered urge to reach for them now...to ignore the battle she so obviously wished to have in favour of tearing her dress from her body. Uttering whatever empty agreement she'd need reached just to have her settled upon his lap, to allow him access to her pillowy bare mounds. He still so wished to bury his face there, to massage the tender soreness away as he usually did around this time for her.

It would soothe him to do so, he knew it would. 

Just as he was sure he could ease the growing pressure and discomfort she was surely feeling. If she'd only give herself over to him, allow him the access he craved from her. 

To take to her teat with vigor….the act of freely suckling from her.

It was the image of it, the wanting…he was sick with it. The all-consuming need to have her in his arms, to be wrapped and curled around her soft body. 

He almost wanted to groan aloud, the frustration was giving way to something more. Burning him deep within his center, causing restless shivers to unnerve his entire being. 

To be frank, she was already standing so close. Rhaena had waddled her way over to him, standing at her full height…just barely reaching the height of his shoulder. The close proximity of her had raised the speed in which his heart thumped within his chest. It was arousal and fury that coursed within him now, that irritation that itched at him, it was leading him to some rather unsightly places within his mind. 

At the sight of her presence alone, he could envision scooping her up without a word. Furiously carrying her to their bed and having his way with her. 

It would have been easy.

And in that moment, in the darkest seed of his mind…he figured he’d blame her for it. 

She’d allowed these needs of his to fester, she’d rebuffed him when all he had wanted was her company...physical company. And now he hungered for more…he hungered for every inch of her. That rage that always laid within him, a sunken gorge filled with black tar…it craved her very essence. 

Blood would not satiate this. 

He could see that now, Aemond could tell by the fire roaring in his veins. It wouldn‘t have mattered how many people he’d killed to numb the feeling, how many villages, cities, ships…scorched earth or not. 

His salvation was here…

So what would it take?

The weakness she’d managed to embed in him, stitched to the core of his heart…he still needed her to enjoy his touch. He couldn’t stomach causing another situation in which she laid unmoving and unfeeling beneath him, the wretched feeling of fucking what felt like a lifeless corpse was not satisfying in the least. Nor was mere thought of ever repeating a mirror to the night she cried beneath him a few years prior. 

What he wanted…was to return to this morning. The way she’d been before the sun rose…before everything went to shit.

As Rhaena stopped inches away from him, her face came into clear view, tilting upwards to catch his gaze. Aemond’s mind untangled as she garnered his full undivided attention. Her beautiful soft visage, the faint smattering of freckles upon the apple of her cheeks. Her pale eyes sparkling in the light of the late afternoon sun, with her plush heart-shaped lips, he watched intensely as they settled into a rather firm line at the sight of him, "ao iēdrosa yknagon hen ōrbar se zaldrīzes's perzys…Iksā ribazmoqitta, ao gīmigon bona ȳdra daor ao," you still smell of smoke and dragon's fire…you are mad, you know that don't you.

Ah, he should have known... 

Sweet words would not be bestowed upon him just yet. 

Biting his lower lip, he sought to fight the sinister grin that threatened to form upon his face. It wasn’t the bloom of pride that spread within his gut, but something remarkably similar was working its way through him. Because, of course she’d started at him in this way. Nodding her head slightly as if to prove that this was an absolute certainty she’d directed at him. That he must be mad, how else would he have chosen to act as he did…her eyes said it all. Her words wielded at him like a blade, her voice even held a slight edge to it. Something so faint, so miniscule, it was a wonder he could detect such differences in her tone at all. 

But he knew his wife well, she could be just as petty as he could. Hurling such specific words at him…aiming for his ego, his heart.

Oh, how she often wished to wound him. 

As he’d wounded her so many years ago.

Though, in his case he’d purposely isolated her to the point of no return. Taken from her that which could never be returned to her…she’d never have her loved ones back. And truthfully she knew, with Helaena gone, Aemond had no one else she could or would ever harm that would matter to him truly. Choosing not to foster a relationship with his mother did not cut him the way she probably would have hoped that it would. And she loved their children far too much to ever harm them…so really, she could never strike at him in a way that lasted. 

But she could always jab at him, personally, remind him of his sins…his faults. 

She so loved to insult him. 

And he so loved to feign coyness, purposely allowing that dark grin of his to properly stretch upon his curved lips. Easing his chin upwards, truly looking down at her with a heavily lidded gaze. Scanning her face and finding joy in the pretty yet infuriated look upon it, Aemond then lowered his voice down an octave, "ao kessa emagon naejot ȳrda ziry ilagon, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys," you shall have to narrow it down, my sweet wife. 

Surely in the grand scheme of things it didn't really matter. Like Lucerys, the boy was dead...intent or not. Regret or no. This farming village was torched to the ground. Why he did it, no longer really mattered now that it was done. Besides, the move was calculated enough…he had his own misgivings to sift through when the dust settled. But in the interim, all he cared about now was fulfilling the wants he was denied several hours ago. 

He wanted his wife in their bed and this time he would have her there.

Slowly but surely, he was closing the gap between them, taking relaxed yet precise steps towards her. That urge to tug her against him spiked like a beacon, the closer he was…the more he eyed her entire form. With the way her gentle slender hands caressed her stomach absentmindedly, the sweet rounding swell of it. The evidence of their bonds, the ever enticing roundness of her swollen belly. It was hypnotic to him, the sight alone created so many heated notches along his spine. The knowledge of it, the reality that he alone fucked that child into her. Bred her perfectly, for the third time in a row. Three pregnancies, two births…not one complication thus far, surely a silent blessing from the Gods. A proven point as he’d always believed it to be true, they were fated to be with one another. 

Rhaena Targaryen was made to be his Queen…no matter how much she liked to deny that fact whenever their arguments grew heated. 

Whenever the fact that she had become the mother to the next generation of Targaryens to sit the throne…it weighed on her. Soon enough they’d have another…and soon enough he’d fill her with another…and another…

This constant state of pregnancy was a dream of his and now they were living it…and it was exquisite. His heartbeat battered within his chest, his gaze surely burned her as he watched her intently. Predatorily eyeing his prey, but his prey could read him. Rhaena stepped through the rays of sunlight like a goddess, soaking in all of his attention. Her tawny complexion warmed into a golden brown in the sun as her silvery-white twists that she'd sported pinned upon her head earlier in the morning. Had been loosened, unbound, draped behind her shoulders and down her back, leveling down to her waist. 

He wanted to palm it. 

To have her on all fours as he tugged a handful of it 

Rutted himself deep inside of her warmth as he took her from behind…

Even in the details, his mind wandered…he tried to focus on what was right in front of him, Eyeing the roots of her hair, several soft wispy curls had slipped free from the loosened twists she'd kept for the week. And he could wonder then, that had he stayed in bed with her this morning, she would have told him that she found her current style in need of freshening. She would have hummed in his arms about the task of undoing them, combing through her pretty curly coils before she set about the intensive process of washing and caring for her hair.

And perhaps, he supposed such a topic should bore him...it probably would have if he’d been wed to anyone else. It certainly would for the average married nobleman. Yet, instead, Aemond found himself regretting having missed it. He’d regretted leaving as early as he did this morning, regretted cutting his time with her so soon. It was his will, to fixate on every little part of her…every aspect of her. 

He’d cut himself off from her too soon.

And then she returned the favour. 

Perhaps, he had done this to himself. 

Rhaena’s pale lilac eyes gazed up at him heavily. Her brows set deeply then her expression faltered, she’d caught something in his eye…the look of it…the undeniable stark arousal within it. But she dared to push past it, boldly moving even closer to him. If he hadn’t known any better, Aemond would have wagered that his dragoness still wished to be in his embrace. Walking into his space like a prey would into a trap they already bore witness to. 

She still wanted him…she only wished to be in the midst of combat with him while she indulged him.

And with her sweet scent drawing even closer...drowning him in it. A scent he was already addicted to, so potent with the source so near…he had the half the mind to acquiesce her unworded request. To drink her in…to steep himself in her scent and clear his mind entirely. 

Ah, and now her cheeks were reddening, her body heated as her voice hitched before she levelled it, "ao gīmigon olvie skoros ao gōntan! Ao zaltan iā lentor ilagon! Kesrio syt nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot qogralbar pirtir lēda ao!?" you know exactly what you did! You burned a village down! Because I did not wish to fucking lie with you!?

Oh how she knew him well, his little wife knew he paid far more attention to her beratements when she spoke to him in High Valyrian. And now she was waiting for a reply she did not truly care to hear. Though he figured he'd give her one nonetheless, such a glutton he was for her form of punishment. Leaning in closely to her, so eager to push her emotions further, eager to draw her right into his arms whether it was through anger or sheer want. Whichever came first. So with his arms folded behind his back, he pouted slightly, “pār ao gīmigon olvie skoro syt, ao yenka emagon ilagontan lēda nyke. Ñuha byka ābrazȳrys," then you know exactly why, you should have lain with me. My little wife.

Rhaena groaned furiously, eager to hit him, he was sure. Baring her teeth, her face grew a slight tinge rosier. She was a sight in her fury, such an ethereal woman…such an adorable expression. As her hands fell to fists at her hips, she turned away from him quickly, growling lowly, “bisa iksis daor dōna. Issa daor kirimves. Ao daor gaomagon gomagho bisa!" This is not cute. It is not funny. You cannot keep doing this! She exclaimed, groaning as she finally aimed to step around him, her hands reaching up into her hair as she tugged in a semblance of decompression. Still, her moving around him forced his gaze to zero in on her heaving chest. The curvy swoop of her waist and the shapely width of her widened hips. A true hourglass figure, by the Gods…he’d never thought her body would only grow to morph into an even shapelier figure. Shifting with each childbirth, becoming even more enticing as time went on.

For, he was more than simply enthralled…he was entirely hard. His cock already straining against his breeches, tight and painfully full with need. All of that weight she gained for each babe…every part of her so curved and soft…round and plush and weighted. 

He was losing focus, that much was clear.

It was obvious now, he couldn’t let her move away from him. As she had moved to step around him, his arm quickly snatched her forearm and pulled her back. She couldn’t help but follow the momentum, her weight tipping towards him as he already stood open armed and ready to catch her. And she did fall against him with a soft grunt. Already groaning when she felt his arms snake around her waist, his hands grabbing at her…pulling her flush against his firm body. Aemond could be unrelenting, patience having already long left his senses as he began to swarm her. Holding her soft body against him with such an unyielding grip, leaning into her, lowering himself down enough to nudge her nose with his own. In an effort to chase her lips…to pull her into his own hypnotic orbit.

Still, low effort as it was, she grunted and evaded his kiss. 

This game…it was growing tiresome with such little reward being given. 

Instead, he lowered himself further, burying his face in the crook of her neck, he smoothly lingered there. Breathing her in, nuzzling her there, grazing his lips along her warm skin. Just as his hot tongue began to drag along her pulse-

"Mmm…FUCK!" she screamed at him, the immediate switch back to the common tongue snapped his concentration for only a millisecond, but not long enough to release her. Not long to stop his warm pressing kisses. Rhaena, however, tried and failed to pull away, “stop it. Stop…I want you to focus! This is not a game, real people died!”

She was whining, so sweetly like that and yet she thought he’d be able to stop. All she’d done was entice him further, causing him to growl against her, tightening his hold of her. And really through it all he was just so fucking tired of hearing about that small inconsequential village, what did it matter to them. Land that held no Lord, land that had no real value. So many traitors lay there in the mist to begin with. 

That rebellion that broke out near those lands.

So fucking near to Lannisport, not three days ride away…and yet, it was not House Lanny or  House Lannett or even House Lantell that put down the rebellion before it could rise up. The three closest Houses to the lands of Oxcross…and yet they’d heard no word of a whisper. And they lifted not one finger to handle things on behalf of their sworn King. 

Three Houses…three branches of distant kin to the residents of the equally near Casterly Rock. 

House Lannister…the largest seat in the area. Sat by the young child of a Lord, Loreon Lannister. Or really in truth, the one who pulled the strings was still the Dowager Lady Johanna Westerling. If the Lannetts, the Lannys and the Lantells all deferred to her first. If she deterred them…if she still held bitterness over Aemond’s indifference to taking any of her daughters to wed as his Queen four years ago. 

The suspicions were there. 

To leave Lannisport so unguarded with a rebellion on the loose. One of the most major ports of the Seven Kingdoms, the largest settlement in the westerlands…and Lady Johanna did not call to have it put down sooner. Instead she waited for the aid of a dragon…she’d waited until Aemond had grown tired of the inaction and decided it was best to simply send his brother to deal with the mess. 

There were facets to this…and yet his Queen only wished to speak about the insignificant lives that were lost when her husband still so clearly needed her focus to be put upon him. He could discuss his theories with her at length when his mind was settled…for now…he needed her. 

With his teeth now grazing her skin, threatening to break the tenderness, threatening to leave a trail of several marks along her slender neck. Through it all, his growls grew darker, “I am not the one who needs to focus. You, my dear, are too preoccupied with lives that do not concern you.”

“Mmmm, but of course, nothing should supersede the needs of your wanting cock,” she scoffed, hoping to dig her nails in upon his biceps. As if she hoped her claws could pierce through the many layers he wore in his everyday life. Through his fine leather tunic, his layered jerkin, his under-cloth shirt. But it was the effort of it, he liked to know she was trying to bite back at him. Loved the feel of her arms draping over his shoulders if only for her nails to scratch at the nape of his neck. The delicious twinge of pain she elicited. 

“I’m not going to tend to you now. Rewarding you for needless murder is not something I find to be enticing,” Rhaena posed the words as if she wished for him to respond to it, only to cut off the birth of silence she’d supplied him, “I did not even wish for you to leave earlier…I only wanted you to explain yourself. Instead you fly off and torch a village. You cannot keep doing that everytime I refuse to hold you. That's madness!"

Everytime? He’d only done it twice…and that would be including now. The first two were reckless enough, spontaneous acts of violence. But this one…well…if he included that other occasion…perhaps she could view this as three occurrences. 

Even so, it could be equally argued that he could partially explain his destination this time. 

Though to think, she wanted him to stay earlier…

Who would’ve thought. 

Smirking against her neck, Aemond decided he was quite done with it all. He wanted to be in bed with her, so that is where they would continue this if it was her wish. Loosening his hold for only a minute, Rhaena eyed him curiously right as he leaned down and picked her up without warning. Cradling her to him bridal style, he settled her weight against him with ease. Finding pure comfort in holding her in his arms, balancing them both as he began to carry her through their solar.

“Aemond!” she gasped, her hands instantly clutching onto his chest for secured purchase, then she reached for the collar of his tunic, “you can’t-”

“You seem to be denying your King an awful lot today,” he responded dryly, unmoved by her little dramatic display as she even tried to wiggle out his hold at first. A futile effort that she thankfully abandoned soon enough. Reluctantly settling in against him almost immediately afterwards, draping her arm over his shoulder as he would have expected. Her frown setting deeper as she eyed him…that was also to be expected. 

“I’m only exercising my authority. As your Queen, am I not allowed to speak freely,” she turned away from his gaze, pouting now, “besides…some denying would clearly do you some good, no one else will dare do it.”

A smirk spread across his face as he made long strides through their solar. Stepping over scattered toys as he weaved them around their furniture and headed towards their bedchamber. Sneaking in a warm pressing kiss to the dip of her temple before she could shirk away, he smirked, "I promise, dear girl. Others have dared today, my mother for one.”

Her lips smacked as she parted them, not out of shock or astonishment…more out of confusion…skepticism. She seemed to be at a loss for a response. 

“Mmm…in either case, if you really are intent on lecturing me, I must admit, my mother has already beaten you to that as well. I’d rather not have to subject myself to another," the bass in his voice remained resonant, purring almost directly into her ear. He felt her shiver in his arms, watched her lips twitch before she began to nibble upon them. 

When he carefully placed her down on their raised canopy bed, he could see her shoulders relax…the subconscious need to get off her feet finally setting in. She was so focused on arguing with him she’d begun to neglect herself, tsk tsk, “you know what's true madness in all this, is that you'd ever refuse me to begin with. I’ve never made our lovemaking so selfish, your needs would have been met.”

She'd rolled her eyes at that, parting her rose toned lips just as she sank her teeth down upon her lower lip, “I-...this is not a lecture, for one. You are not a child and I should not have to…ugh. Look, I would not have refused you if you’d left my seat upon the council intact…had you at the very least, given me the courtesy of a warning ahead of time…”

As she shifted herself upon the bed’s edge, Aemond took to kneeling in front of her. Eyeing her all the while, he made a small grimace. 

And there it was…in the heat of their back and forth, Aemond knew his stubborn little wife wouldn’t have let it go. 

Honestly, he hoped that she would have moved past that slight by now. In truth, he expected the majority of her anger towards him to be about the village. But the fucking council seat? That was the core of it all wasn't it. Running his fingers through his hair, he undid the braid he'd kept his hair in for most of the day, occupying his fingers with the action as he contemplated his response. In all fairness, he could have worded things kindly for her…seeing as she felt quite personally wounded about it all. 

Then again, the facts of the matter seemed all too obvious to him to even bother. 

“I am allowed to be upset with you…” she’d grumbled beneath her breath, crossing her arms in a huff, propping them underneath her bosom…pushing up her plump cleavage even more so. 

With his heated gaze leveled upon her, he clenched his jaw, grinding it slightly, "I did not think you needed the word told directly by me. You're meant to be in confinement. You're nearly nine moons along, it is only right."

"Right? You gave me no warning! And I know my body well enough, I do not need you to tell me when it's time to be put in confinement! I'm not a horse, there is no period in my pregnancies in which I wish to be locked here in this room again," she huffed, with the intention of standing up and walking away from him. However, that was not going to happen. Aemond was quick to place his large hands down upon her thighs, keeping her seated with a gentle set of force. 

To her immediate dismay. 

Yet, her movement was not the focal point for him. No, it was her phrasing that caught his ear. ‘Locked here in this room again’, he knew exactly what she meant by that. The not so subtle jab at the way he had treated her during her first pregnancy. How she’d been largely confined to this chamber for almost the entirety of it, because he did not trust her to keep their babe as he needed her to. With their second babe, he had granted her far more freedoms. He'd returned her precious Morning to her, he'd allowed her to stroll the grounds with guards at her back and maids at her side. And as negotiated upon the birth of their second born, he'd even given her a spot on his council, as his Queen, free to witness, listen in and even interject if need be.

So, gently, he slotted himself between her thighs, his pulse practically palpitating at the innate warmth of her. There he slid his hands beneath the mildly weighted silk of her skirts, he began to push the flowy fabric up along her legs. She tutted at him, but he didn’t stop himself, he folded the bunched material at her hips. Tucked beneath her belly as he admired the smooth feel of her bare thighs and then her calves, running his calloused hands along them. Bringing his attention down the dainty poppy red slippers upon her feet, as he popped them off one at a time. Leaning himself into her as his hands casually messaged her sore feet. 

He could be both considerate and attentive to her needs if only given the chance. If only she could see that’s all he’d done today…it had been for her benefit…with her needs in mind. 

As his fingers deftly massaged her feet, Aemond could have sworn he’d heard the breathiest little moan of satisfaction slip from her lips. A little chink in her armour, how he loved to cause it. Rhaena’s own hands remained planted on either side of her hips, palmed down against the bed, fingers gripping the dark folded fur blanket there. She was desperate to hold on to the last semblance of control that she had now…her reluctance to reach for him was wearing her down, he could see it. So that was when he struck, releasing her feet, his hands slid up her thighs once again. Settling on the plush curve at her hips, his left hand already rubbing the underside of her belly. 

“Jurnegon rȳ nyke, hmm,” look at me, he murmured softly. And after a stalled moment, her furrowed brows brought her pale eyes back to him, her button nose scrunching as her lips twisted at him. 

Rhaena would always be the first to say their eldest son took after him, but this expression that was so utterly hers…little Aemon had inherited those inflections almost exactly. 

It warmed his soul to see it really, that look was a sign that he was winning. That her rage was crumbling in the sight of his efforts. Slowly, he could reel her into him, even as she weakly fought against him. Curling his hands around her, he secured his arms around her tightly. Gazing up at her with both his pale indigo eye as well as gleaming sapphire, that was when her hands finally landed upon his shoulders. She finally sighed and allowed her body to guide her closer, close enough for Aemond to nudge his forehead up against hers, "this time it is different, you already know that it is. This confinement is not a prison, I only wished to ease your burdens…to make things comfortable for you."

"How considerate of you," she swallowed thickly, surely aiming to make her response sound as sarcastic as possible, only her shaky delivery made it all sound heated and earnest, "it is a shame you didn't bother to ask me if I wanted that or to warn me even. You couldn’t be bothered, I suppose, to at the very least tell me yourself. Ser Willis is the one who told me after I'd already dressed and readied myself."

"Rhaena," he sighed her name as softly as ever, rasping at the end of it. Yes, he could be gentle if he tried…his patience however, had already stretched as thin as it would go. 

"It was aggravating. Borderline humiliating. You cannot act as if this was done as a kindness when it was handled as it was. Ser Willis is not known for pleasant deliveries,” she'd cut short with what sounded like a low drawn groan, as her nose threatened to nuzzle against his instinctually. The close proximity hypnotically luring her to melt against him, relaxing in his hold of her as her fingers roamed down along his chest. Sparking his senses, burning his skin as her hands warmly slid back towards his shoulders. Caressessing the sharp notch of his Adams apple as her touch traveled along his jaw. Her thumbs tracing the sharp edge of it before raising to cup his cheeks properly, “have I not handled being your mate, the mother of your children and most certainly taking on my role as your Queen, all well enough."

Aemond could feel himself falling victim to her orbit yet again, even though he'd purposely placed himself here...he would lose his upper hand if he wasn’t careful. He could already feel himself leaning into her already, her belly pressing against his chest, his hardening cock felt caught with the pressure of it all. As he raised one of his hands to feel the heat of the life they made, he smoothly brought the other hand up to hold her face. To keep her in place as he leaned his lips closer to hers. Chasing them eagerly, only then did her breath hitch, the sound made his cock grow absolutely rigid with want. As Rhaena's eyes flickered from his eyes down to his lips and then back again, and there she'd hummed to stop him. Halting his desire to close the sliver of distance between their lips, their heated breath already mingling.

"I wasn't done, my impatient zaldrīzes," dragon, she bit back a small faint smile, while he allowed his smirk to pull completely. Her dragon…he did love to hear her possessive terms for him. Loved to be considered hers even when she was cross with him, with her thumb playfully dragging down his lower lip, she smirked, “mmm Aemond, you are trying to distract me,”

A puff of air escaped him as he teased, “is it working?”

At that, she only shook her head, scoffing faintly, “…as your Queen, I need more assurety. You tell me I'm more than your broodmare and then you act without me or on my behalf with no warning at all. I just don't…I do not like being the last to know pertinent information that affects me so directly. I hate to be sidelined when you’ve spent years promising me the opposite. And I certainly mislike feeling powerless in my own life's decisions."

What a bother.

There’d be no distracting her from this topic. 

Mmmm…she wanted more assurety?

As if he hadn't spent the last four years giving her just that. Giving her nearly everything she wanted...a courtesy he’d granted her as she was his Queen.

Breathing deeply, he rested his chin upon the perch of her belly. He found himself reaching around her hips, snuggly holding her in place as he hummed a sound acknowledgement. Recalling his own thoughts from just a few minutes ago, he only wished to 'utter whatever empty agreement she'd need reached just to have her settled upon his lap'. 

Hmmm, it would take some maneuvering to get her onto his lap now...but he figured he could loosen her to that end. In truth, from where he knelt upon the stone floor of their bedchamber...his appetite hungered for something far more immediate. 

Far closer to his lips...far sweeter to the taste. 

Aemond's gaze had darkened almost instantly as his hands slid the curve of her hips, fingers applying the lightest of pressures. He was not being very subtle at all and his Queen knew it. Really, he didn't need to meet Rhaena's eyes directly to notice the furrow of her brows. The heavy sigh that blew from her was telling enough, though she seemed adamant to have his eye on her. Reaching for his chin, she gripped and tilted face upwards. The saturated sun still illuminating her beauty in the most majestic way, even as she spoke with a deep seeded vexation, "you're not listening to me, I can tell."

Well, he was...and he wasn't. 

Biting his lip and he smirked, "you mislike feeling belittled, I heard you," his lips expectantly endured the wandering caress of her thumb. 

If she sought such serious answers... playing with his lower lip was certainly one way to get them. 

"Then..." She paused, her gaze flickering to the window that currently doused her in sunlight, her wispy silver curls shone nearly a glittery white, "tell me, what happened earlier. What angered you so, besides my unwillingness to lie with you then? What was said at the council meeting?" 

Ah...

It wasn't necessarily confidential information, he could care less about keeping her excluded from the issue at hand. What bothered him really, was the thought of sitting here speaking on the delicate matter of the politics of the realm. 

It was a topic he'd enjoy with a clear mind.

A topic he'd revel in divulging with her...after he'd taken what he needed. But he most certainly needed her first, there was no way around that. He could not keep his cock so taut and full as it was for much longer...he could not shake the want from his mind when he sat so ideally right between her legs. 

Without warning he rose to his feet. The matter was settled as far as he was concerned, this was as far as he'd go with just words. He started with his weapons belt, unsheathing his dagger and biting the blade in his mouth as he unlatched his belt and dropped it on the floor. Blackfyre remained sheathed as it fell to the floor. Next, he began unbuttoning his sleek black leather riding tunic, shirking it off and allowing it to fall all the same. 

Rhaena, however, only watched him perplexed all the while. Shaking her head slightly, her hands now held at the edge of the bed, "what are you doing?" 

Aemond thought it obvious, though apparently he'd have to explain the state of things. Apparently the massive bulge beneath the waistband of his breeches was not clear enough for his little wife to see. Even as he threw off his black jerkin, followed by his white cloth undershirt. By then, he took the blade from his mouth, leaning over her, he was somewhat glad to see she seemed utterly unthreatened by the fact that he was holding a dagger over her. In truth, he'd aimed it lower anyhow. 

That was when her eyes lit up, "no...NO! You're not cutting off another one of my dresses! There are buttons precisely placed directly on the front of this one!" 

"I will not be fiddling with lace covered buttons, sweet wife. Besides, I'll have it replaced within the week anyhow," he grinned, already slipping his fingers underneath the neckline of her gown. Feeling the thickness of the fabric, mentally calculating the pressure needed to cut through her sturdy silk layered bodice as well as her thin cotton shift beneath.

Of course, the skill lied in the ability to swiftly slice both away without nicking her with the blade. 

Just as he'd prepared himself to move forward, Rhaena groaned aloud as she shifted. It sounded sultry yet there was something nearly juvenile and pouty about it. Her furrowed brows moved to fret as if she wished to cross her arms to obstruct him, though she never did. She'd quite frankly leaned into his touch, whether she was conscious about it or not...he couldn't say. Her pale eyes only batted at him as her rose tinted lips pushed out, "but this is one of my favourites,"

"I'll gift you several just like it then," he hummed warmly enough, already eyeing the safest path in which he intended to slice. 

"Right, and then you'll cut those just as well. Soon enough I'll be forced to walk these halls bare," she fought to keep her look of petulance, only a cheeky little smile won the battle in the end. That was the prime moment to strike, and Aemond took it, just managing to catch her lips with his own. The immediate warmth that engulfed him as he lazily caught her sweet tongue upon his own. Lingering in the moment just long to feel his own heart soothe and settle with the feel of her. Truly indulging himself with the taste of her mouth, the remnant flavour of a spiced tea and her favoured sugary custard pastries. 

It was a simultaneous act, occupying her captivating mouth just as he pulled his dagger through, snapping each individual button that lined her bodice before cutting down the length of her dress. With his long platinum tresses draping over her, he felt her fingers trace the line of his scar upon his left cheek before feeling the edge of his jawline. Reaching to tuck his arrant strands behind his ear, there he gently pulled himself from her. Timed equally with a breathy gasp, Rhaena huffed, "mmmm...you're still a mad man, you didn't even answer my question." 

Mad? 

She had no idea...

Licking his lips, he still savoured the taste of her...eager to taste the sweet spot between her legs for the second time today, "consider my eagerness to be a necessity then." His voice was growing hoarse with need, especially as he'd watched the two halves of her gown and undergarment slide off her form. Tantalizing as gravity naturally revealed the parts of her he'd desperately longed to see. The slow tumbling of her crimson gown sliding to reveal one full plump breast and then the other. The soft showing of her bare swollen belly, her shapely thighs still parted directly below. With her warm brown skin still glowing in the sunlight, Aemond was sure he'd never seen such a perfect image. 

With Rhaena leaning back on her elbows, her long silver twists streaming down her back...she was waiting for him. Her pale lilac eyes were calling to him, silently beckoning him to take her as she wished. 

Surely she knew how dangerous her gaze was. 

Surely, she could see what it did to him...what she did to him. 

Leaning over her, he reached to place his dagger down upon their bedside table. Freeing his hand to glide along the soft dip of her bare waist. Though he wouldn't climb over her, not yet, he couldn't resist the opportunity laid at his feet. Instead, he reached for her cheek, "you want me to answer your question?"

Rhaena eyed him heatedly, nodding sharply.

"Hmmm, then you'll have to play your game to get it," Aemond rasped, purposely aiming a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth. With a cocky little flick of his tongue, he began to lower himself once again. Quietly kicking himself for leaving his breeches on as he did so, but he could wait no longer. Pressing warm sloppy kisses down in a streak along her body, his hair falling against her, tickling her as he trailed between her perfect mounds and the rounded bump of her belly. 

While Aemond's complete and utter focus had shifted, Rhaena's body had begun to melt against his touch. Though her focus remained the same, "and what game would that be? The one where you spread my legs and get exactly what you've come for." 

He'd chuckled darkly at that, now kneeling before her, placing his hands upon her smooth knees. The delicate yet familiar motion of spreading her legs to suit his hungered urges as he glanced up at her, "quid pro quo...a fair trade...is that not what you call it? When you ride me senseless, take my cock however I wish to give it to you. You ease my every sense, all to receive whatever goal you'd been after that day." 

Rhaena's fingers danced upon her thighs, her lips folding in a charming little guilty expression, "you say that as if I use you." 

"Tis your favourite weapon to wield against me, is it not," Aemond grinned, his eye flickering down to the damp thatch of pale curls that laid above her pretty entrance, "it's exactly how you managed to gain a seat upon my council in the first place-" 

It was a feather light touch, his fingers spreading the soft folds of her there just as his thumb grazed against her sensitive little bud. Her legs shuddered instantly at his touch, her breath hitching in time with a little small quiver as she opened for him. She was already so slick, wet and wanting...the tender pink of her hidden flesh already calling to him.

"Aemond-" Rhaena gasped again, biting down hard upon her lower lip. 

He'd missed that sound, missed hearing all of the breathy moans he knew his wife to be capable of. All the sweet ways she could call his name when she so wished to. And, yes, he'd been granted a few much earlier in the morning...but he could be selfish at times. Hoarding the sound, the melodic melody of it. He wanted more...he always wanted more. 

Teasingly, Aemond continued to dab at her clit, softly rubbing the area with the pad of his thumb. Flashing a cunning smirk as he leaned his mouth close enough to blow hot air against her needy entrance, "what was that? Did you want me to stop?" 

Pettiness...he could never have enough.

"Mmmm, you're such a..." Rhaena groaned as she laid her head back, her hands combing through her twists as Aemond settled her legs over his shoulders. Her left calf sliding over his old burn scar upon his right shoulder, his one memorial from his battle at Rook’s Rest. The day the formidable Rhaenys Targaryen took both him and Vhagar on with Meleys at her side. Matching him blow for blow…nearly killing him with her immense dragon riding experience. As well as the worn battle tested Meleys. 

Aemond remembered that battle well…perhaps he regretted it more than the others. But in that fight he'd taken Meleys' dragon's fire just scarcely to the shoulder while managing to douse and dodge the worst of the onslaught. Only taking her down with the added aid of his brother and Sunfyre. 

A half victory, really. 

As were the majority of his dragon battles. 

Though in the end he had won it all. Rhaenys was dead, in her stead, he had that very woman's granddaughter here at his disposal. Legs splayed to him as he clearly felt the call of her body, as if gravity itself was guiding him there. He didn't wait for her, delving between the warmth of her plush thighs. Eagerly licking a streak along the length of her spread cunt, his tongue purposely lavishing the saccharine flavour of her. Drawing light airy mewls from her as her hands floundered down at her sides. Fingers padding the fur blanket beneath her before she opted to grip onto it instead. 

Her legs were squirming already, he'd barely even begun and Rhaena already seemed to be fighting the urge to squeeze her legs around him.

It was enough to cause his cock to throb dangerously within his breeches, his heart burning with a sense of pure desire. He felt greedy with it all, that aching irritation of his gave way to the pace of his tongue working her almost ferociously. Licking along her delicate folds, trailing his tongue around her apex, flicking the tip of his tongue against her there- 

There, Rhaena's hands finally reached for him. With a sharply pitched moan, she slid her fingers through his hair and tugged, "s-stop, wait...wait," 

In truth, he had no interest in stopping at all. 

Not when he could get her there, not when he was finally feasting on her just as he'd wished to. Besides, it wasn't as if he could see the expression on her face at this very moment. With his own fingers tightly squeezing the soft pudge of her inner thighs, from his angle kneeling before. Her later-term belly was truly blocking his view of her entirely, he could see the top slumped peaks of her breasts...but her facial expression in this moment would remain a mystery. 

And so if all he could do was judge her words based on the sound of her voice, the breathy needy call for him to wait or stop. Said with the blatant undertones of a woman who was in the midst of experiencing immense pleasure. 

Stop?

Hmmm...he thought not. 

Playfully, he grinned as he dipped the tip of his tongue into the sweet heat of her. Drenched in her syrupy wetness, the point of his nose nudging her clit in time with his ministrations. It was enough for her to cry out, whining his name even louder this time, "Aemond!" 

Perhaps he was toying with her, but he couldn't deny this...that he loved nothing more than this. Burrowing himself within her one way or another. 

"Aemond...mmm...I do not wish to play this game, I would rather the simple answers," she fussed against him, pulling his hair even harder... finally causing him to hiss with the strain. 

Aggravating little thing, could she not simply take his tongue with gratitude. 

With a huff, Aemond grinded his jaw slowly. He wanted a better position, one with more purchase and control over her body. So he feigned compliance, slipping his tongue from her in the slowest most agonizing way possible. Savouring the honeyed taste of her, happily relishing the bright gasping breath she took as he did. He chuckled to himself there, licking his lips as he slowly pulled himself from between her legs. Nearly climbing atop her, Aemond lowered himself over her, gazing into her eyes he murmured, "the game's already started, sweet girl. And you haven't given me anything yet. That’s no trade at all." 

With a sob, she surely felt his fingers reach below. Sliding between her wet folds, causing her to bite her lip as her brows furrowed, "oh! But you've already had a taste, that's good enough!" 

"Mmm," he smirked devilishly, nuzzling his nose against hers, "now now, little wife. You're only stalling, you know this game better than that. If you want pertinent information from me, you'll have to give me more than a simple taste," 

With a smooth slip of his fingers, he brought his damp index and middle fingers to his lips purposely sucking off her glistening arousal. The look in her eyes as they widened at the sight of it, eyeing him with a fixed almost hypnotized stare. 

As if she’d seen him do this very thing, the countless times she’d watched him pull his fingers from her delicate wetness before sucking the remnants with pure fervor. 

In a fluid motion, Aemond used that very same hand to caress her jaw, leading her lips up to his. Deepening their kiss with the dexterity of his tongue tangling with her own, feeling the instant access to her mouth as she tasted herself upon his tongue. As her hands slid along his shoulders, he parted from her briefly, humming against her lips, "settle up here... I'm not done with you yet." 

As he spoke, he guided her body further up along the bed. Pulling down the fur blanket, effectively unmaking the bed as Rhaena finally obeyed his commands. Eyeing him the entire time as she moved to shed the remnants of her gown and undergarments down to the floor before she laid herself closer to the head of the bed. Resting herself horizontally amongst the nest of pillows they had there. 

And for a moment he couldn't help the way his gaze had lingered on her form. Laid out and splayed to him...in truth the very image he'd been most keen to return to ever since he left her this morning. It felt as if he'd been away for ages, like a warrior kept from home....even though there was no battle to speak of and he'd made the blunderous choice to leave all by himself. But he had her now, and she looked the picture of perfection. Like a painting of old, the erotic sketches of a goddess. She quite literally had the form of an image he'd seen once before. Deep within the pages of an old text he'd read a few years back, the original writer's envisioned idea of the fertility Goddess, Meleys. 

What she might have looked like if she'd taken the form of a woman.

Beyond Rhaena's naturally curlier hair and refined beautiful features, the image seemed nearly exact in his mind. Down to his wife’s lovely deep skin tone, her splendid figure, those wide curving hips and thighs, laid so prettily upon their bed. With the impeccable abundance of her plump bosom, the intoxicating roundness of her swollen belly. The bright sun still spilling over her, the luminous shimmer of her silver hair, the way her pale lilac eyes shone like jewels. 

Everything about her was calling him to her like a siren…like a spell. 

If he'd subscribed to the ideals of The Seven as faithfully as he once did...all of this coveting would feel far more sinful. To carnally want a woman with child this badly...his woman, his wife…carrying his child. 

Such distinctions would not have mattered to The Mother, surely, it was all a sin in her eyes. Said to feel displeasure towards any such depravity no matter the specifics. Yet, it all mattered so little to Aemond now, when he was with her. He could do away with thoughts of the Faith in the presence of Rhaena Targaryen. She had a knack for clouding his mind, his judgement…to focusing on one end alone. 

And to his near wonderment, here she was finally beckoning him to come to her. 

"Come then, dear husband, let us play the game," Rhaena's eyes practically glowed, her lips twisting into a bright little smile. 

His siren's song.

Notes: LMAO that breeding kink is really FRONT and center, the lactation kink will be coming too!!

Chapter 5 is in the works, but I do still have to write it! I've plotted out the sequence of events...but estimatation for completion wise, idk. I'd really like to finish it this week. We shall see!

[punderdome]

The Fine Print: Chapter 6

Summary: Tav deals with the consequences of her past and present relationship choices.

Word Count: 7500

[AO3]

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 6: The Crown and the Orb

Tav woke the next morning to a light reddish glow.  The curtain’s in Raphael’s bedchamber had been pulled back slightly to provide the illusion of morning.  Without the circling of the sun and moon, she had no idea how late she had slept.  Raphael was absent from his bed.

The lace lingerie she slept in had left soft imprints of its floral pattern into the skin on her side.  She sat up and looked around the room.  To her surprise, Raphael was sitting in a plush armchair by one of the windows, reading quietly in the glow of the morning light.

“Good morning,” she greeted tentatively, unsure of how he would react to her refusing his touch the previous evening.  She was also entirely unsure if this moment was what Raphael would consider morning.

He gently closed his book and placed it on a small table next to his chair.  He was still wearing his silk lounging pants but his upper body was covered by a black robe with an understated pattern of small embroidered gold diamonds.  He stared at her quietly for a few moments.  “Good morning, my dear wife.”  She didn’t hear any simmering anger in his voice, which she took to be a good sign.

Tav remained in his bed, the sheets bunched at her waist.  Her hair was disheveled and her curls puffy and tangled.  The lingerie was slightly askew, leaving her left nipple peeking over the hem of the lace bralette.  Raphael took in the sight of her and smiled slightly.

She climbed out of bed, completely aware that Raphael could realistically see everything and was blatantly observing with great interest.  She looked around on the floor for her discarded robe, but it was nowhere to be found.  She walked across his bedroom, searching around Raphael’s wardrobes and vanity for its location.  She was not looking forward to slinking back to her room while mostly naked.

Tav turned around to see Raphael holding a piece of red cloth.  “Looking for something?” he inquired.  Of course.

She walked back across the room to where he sat, holding her robe.  “Come, my dearest, stay a while.”  He motioned to his lap.

“May I have my robe back?”

“Manners, Little Mouse.”  She clenched her jaw in frustration.  Not again.

“Dear husband, may I please have my robe back?”  She put on the nicest smile she could manage with gritted teeth.

“You have no need for it right now,” Raphael’s reply had a slight playful growl.  He gestured again to his lap.  Tav sat down, leaning her back against his chest.  He wrapped his arms gently around her.  One of his claws idly stroked the scales near her navel.  He was incredibly warm to the touch.

Clearly, he wanted her to pretend this was a glowing morning after their wedding feast and a night of passionate lovemaking.  The sooner she played according to his script, the sooner he would let her go back to her quarters.

She placed her hand over his as it stroked over her stomach, lightly squeezing it.  Raphael hummed in appreciation.

“You are quite the sight, my dearest.  I enjoy getting to see all the different versions of you.  The image of you sleeping in my bed is such a far cry from how pristine you looked when you entered the Devil’s Den.”

“I aim to please, my devil.”  Raphael chuckled underneath her.  His free hand traced the patches of scales over her sternum in gentle circular strokes.

“There is still something we must do,” he purred into her ear.

“Breakfast?” Tav asked quickly, hoping to derail the conversation.  It didn’t work.

“Tavara, there is something I need to take from you, and soon,” his voice was still low and soft but it gained a serious edge.  Take what from her?  She was definitely not a blushing virgin.  “We will need to consummate our marriage.”

“Raphael, I,” Tav started to protest, but she was unsure of how to finish the sentence.  Not twenty four hours earlier, she had been wandering the streets of Baldur’s gate by the Elfsong Tavern, looking for something interesting to do.  Now the interesting thing to do was sitting underneath her.

“If you are nervous, I will be gentle,” his promise was sincere with a slight hint of concern.  “I can be in my human form, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“You are too kind, dear husband.”  She grabbed her robe from where it lay next to him and put it on.  He offered her the sash in his clawed hand.  She tied the robe and looked down at him.  His expression was unreadable.  She nodded quickly before leaving his bedroom in a hurry.

Tav walked quickly down the corridor to return to her room.

“Little Wife, I hope you are having a wonderful morning basking in the afterglow of the master’s affections.”  Haarlep’s taunt came from behind her.

“Leave me alone, Haarlep,” she responded gruffly.

“It went that well, did it?” There was a snap and Haarlep appeared in front of her, standing in between her and her bedroom door.  They wore the Archduke’s form.  “I did warn you, didn’t I?  You must tell me all the details!” Their grin was filled with devilish glee.

“Not now, Haarlep, I’m hungry,” Tav protested back, trying to get to her room.

“I’m surprised the master didn’t feed you his cock this morning.”  Tav groaned and pushed around the incubus only to be stopped by their wings.  “Did he even make it long enough to get it inside you before he came?  Or did he shower your stomach with his passions?”  Tav closed her eyes and took a deep breath to prevent herself from trying to strangle the incubus.  She briefly wondered if Raphael would reward her with something expensive if she actually strangled the incubus.  Or at least tried.

“Go away,” she growled.  She roughly pushed past the incubus and reached her door.  Haarlep addressed her as she opened it.

“He couldn’t get it up, could he?”  Tav flashed a look of fire behind her.  Haarlep smiled and their tail twitched in amusement.  “Oh, was that what happened?”

“Fuck off, Haarlep!”  Tav slammed the door behind her.  

She stripped off the robe and lingerie and went to bathe.  She ran hot water in the tub and sank into its warmth.  She added a few drops of a bath oil smelling of mint and lavender.  As she bathed, Tav considered Raphael’s words.

He needed to take something from her? What did that even mean?  With her luck he was probably intending to cut her open and forcibly remove her heart from her chest.  If her soul wasn’t already going to end up right back in the House of Hope if she passed, organ removal might have been a kinder fate.

Tav wasn’t a stranger to sex.  She and Gale had enjoyed each other’s bodies almost every night from the night he told her he loved her up until the night he no longer wanted to be with her.  It might not be so bad, and Raphael clearly wasn’t so desperate that he wanted to hurt her.  The fact that she was even considering this option made her shiver.  Her magic flickered and the bath rapidly cooled to lukewarm.

She rose from her bath and dried off.  She rustled through her wardrobes and found a simple linen dress to be worn with a chemise and corset.  Shoes.   She laughed aloud.  She slipped on a flat pair of soft leather slippers.  Tav secretly hoped the debtors and the maids were having fun throwing her discarded slippers around, provided the master of the house wasn’t watching.

As much as she wanted to hide in her room forever, Tav’s stomach had other plans for her.  She wandered out into the House of Hope alone for the first time.  The debtors had taken to looking away and ignoring her, which she imagined was a decree by her husband.

Tav failed to find her way back to the dining room, and a maid she encountered quickly showed her the way.  The table she sat at for her wedding feast was now empty.  The maid asked her what she wanted for her meal.  “A slice of bread, some eggs, and a piece of fruit?”  Tav hated the idea of having so much food wasted from the wedding feast the day before.  She hoped Raphael’s servants or debtors at least got to eat some of it.

Hot tea was soon brought to her accompanied by a steaming cup of kaeth.  Tav had never really preferred it to tea, due to its bitterness.  She imagined that was exactly why Raphael had some around.

“Does the master prefer kaeth to tea?” Tav inquired.

“Yes, my Lady,” the servant greeted her, careful not to look her in the eye.  

“I always found it too bitter myself,” she tried to strike up a conversation.

“I shall bring you some milk, my Lady, many prefer it served that way,” the frightened Tiefling male offered gently.

“I will be glad to try it that way.  What is your name?”  Tav tried to ask.  The Tiefling seemed to panic and ignored her question.  He fled back into the kitchens.

“Alright then,” Tav mumbled to herself aloud.  “No conversations for Tav.”

He returned quickly with a small ceramic jug of milk and immediately retreated back into the kitchen.  She poured milk into the kaeth and found the bitterness dulled to a pleasant taste.  

A different servant placed a plate of bread, cheese, fruit, and boiled eggs in front of her.  He also turned to leave, but Tav caught his attention and tried to prevent him from leaving.

“Has the master of the house instructed all of you not to talk to me?” she asked directly.  There was no response.  This male human servant also tried to flee to the door that led to the kitchens, but Tav rose quickly and stood in front of it.

“Please answer me,” Tav implored.

“Yes, my Lady.”  His gaze remained firmly at the floor.

“I will have words with the Archduke, but I do not want so much formality with me in my home.”  Tav stood aside and let the human servant run back to safety.  Gods, an eternity of only having real conversations with Raphael or Haarlep?

She ate slowly, processing how time no longer held any meaning.  There were no university classes to attend or presentations to give.  There were no gnolls or Steel Watch or tadpoles.  There were no mindflayers.  There was only the House of Hope and perpetual daylight.

She left the dining room and found her way into the Archive.

“My Lady, how can I help you this day?”  The Tiefling stared straight at the floor, avoiding eye contact with her gaze or her form.

“You promised my Lord husband that you would take me on a tour of the archives and provide me with something to read,” Tav answered.

“Of course, my Lady, please follow me.”  

The Archivist led her through the various stacks of books in the Archive, explaining the contents of the tomes and works on the shelves in front of him.  He took care in only looking at the works and keeping his back strictly facing her.

“I would like something on the histories of the Hells,” Tav requested.

“Very well, my Lady.  In Common tongue or Infernal?”  The Archivist started leading her back through the stacks towards a different section.  Tav sighed.

“Do you have any of the same work in both tongues?” she inquired.

“I believe a few of the works would fit that requirement.”

The Archivist removed two tomes from the shelf in front of him.  Facing the shelf, he held one in each hand for her to see.  “I have a ‘History of the Conquerings of Asmodeus’ in both Common tongue and Infernal.  Which would you like?”

“Both,” Tav responded quickly.  The Archivist’s shoulder blades hitched in an air of confusion, but he set both volumes down on a nearby table.

“Pleased to be of service, my Lady.”  He didn’t look back at her before scurrying back towards his desk.  She sighed and picked up both volumes.  This was going to be annoying.

Tav returned to her room and spread both volumes out on a table at her window.  She spent the afternoon reading and rereading every sentence and every rune in both versions, making mental notes of the subtleties.  She picked up a few small nuances she never understood about various phrases in Infernal, hoping that the translations were true.  Unlike what she had been taught by her previous tutors, there were a few Infernal words that seemed to stand in for entire phrases of language.  She would have to ask for parchment and ink and start to catalog them.  If she stood any chance of surviving in the Hells, she needed the language to be able to describe them properly.

She heard a knock at her bedroom door.  “The Lord of the house has requested your presence for the evening meal,” a valet requested.  Tav stood, stiff from sitting at the table by her window for so many hours.  She closed both massive tomes and went to meet Raphael for dinner.

The table was again filled by a grand feast, with many of the same dishes as before.  Fruits, vegetables, meats of unknown origin.  Is this the same feast as last night or a different one?  Where does all of this come from?

Raphael stood when he saw her approach.  He was still dressed richly in embroidered garb, but not quite as grand as what he had worn for their wedding feast.  His doublet had embroidered images of laurels and peacocks in elegant golden thread.  Peacocks, how apt.

“Good evening, my wife.”  Raphael pulled out the chair next to him for her.

“Good evening, Raphael,” she responded.  She sat down, and he pushed her chair into the table with the same overdramatics he used the prior evening.

“How was your day?” Tav probed uncertainly, helping herself to servings of fruits and vegetables, still avoiding the meats.

“I closed on more than a dozen separate deals, so it was quite a profitable afternoon.  A good omen for our future together, I should say.”

“My dearest, tell me of the exploits of the Savior of Baldur’s Gate,” Raphael requested, scooping several helpings of flesh from various platters onto his plate.

“Raphael, are any of these meats humanoid?  Dwarven?  Elven? ”  Tav asked quickly, ignoring his question.

“I did not realize you had such a cultured palate, my Little Mouse,” Raphael cackled.  “Is that what you would rather have?  Drow served rare?”

“No!” Tav exclaimed.  “That is definitely not what I want.”

Raphael continued to guffaw as a claw outstretched towards a pie.  “Goose.”   He pointed at another roast.  “Pork.”   His hand gestured towards a roast covered in gravy.  “That one is beef.”   His hand pointed at a stewed meat dish behind the breadbasket.  “That one is roast Dwarf.”

Tav started to lose her appetite but took a slice of the goose pie.

“Now, tell me, dear one.  How did you spend your day?”  Raphael asked while cutting pieces of what she was pretty sure was the pork roast.

“I explored the house a little, and the Archivist provided me with some histories to study.”  Her fork effortlessly cut through the buttery crust of the goose pie.

“So you intend to spend your eternity studying ?” Raphael challenged.

“I prefer to spend my eternity not being useless,” Tav countered.  A grin spread over Raphael’s face.

“I didn’t think idleness suited you, my dear.”  They finished their meal in relative silence.  Raphael led her to the Archive and sat her down on a sofa close to the stacks.  The Archivist was nowhere to be found.  Raphael grabbed a tome and sat next to her.  He opened it and started to read.  It was poetry.

Raphael read aloud to her, capturing the emotions of each verse with a dramatic flair.  She quite enjoyed the way he read to her.  His humorous poems left her giggling, and the sad poems he read reeked of despair.  Though his despair was so overacted it still almost left her giggling.

She listened with rapt attention, watching every grand gesture and consuming every emotional moment.

There was an insistent knock at the archive door.  A valet quickly entered through the doorway and addressed Raphael, not waiting for a response.

“Milord, an attachment has arrived from Cania.  Three fiends from Mephistopheles’s court have come to speak with you.”

“Serve them the Hellfire whiskey in the parlor, and I shall join them in there shortly,” Raphael answered coolly.   

When the valet left, Raphael’s entire demeanor became ill at ease.  The book of poetry was immediately discarded.  He stood from the sofa with a sense of urgency.  He roughly grabbed Tav’s wrist and pulled her to her feet.  He said nothing else as he almost dragged her through the hallways of the House of Hope.  

“Where are we going?” Tav demanded as she staggered, tripping over her own feet.  Even with her struggle to match his brutal pace, Raphael didn’t slow down.  He stopped in front of a grand wooden door.  Tav had no idea what was inside.  Raphael gripped her shoulders tightly. 

“Tavara, this is important.  If you wake, you must not make a sound until I retrieve you. Do I make myself clear?  Not a sound. ”  Raphael pulled the door open and pushed her inside into a dark room filled with strange objects that she couldn’t make out in the dark.  “Sleep, my love.”  His command enveloped her.  It was safe.  It was home.  It was…

Tav began to fall to her knees, and the devil helped her safely find the floor.  Her mind was completely clouded with haze and all urges to keep her eyes open dissipated.  Then there was only dark.

***

Tav awoke groggy and disoriented in complete darkness.  She recalled that Raphael unequivocally warned her not to make a sound.  Where was she?  She sat up slowly, still feeling dizzy.

Tav silently called her magic to life and cast Darkvision to figure out where she was.  It was a fairly small and cramped room not much larger than her washroom.  She was surrounded by dozens of chests stacked into neat piles by the walls.  Framed paintings sat unhung in a neat stack in a corner.  Small golden statuettes lined a shelf by the closed door.  The room seemed to hum with the Weave of dozens of Arcane Lock spells.  This must be a vault.

Why did Raphael shove her into one of his vaults?

Tav hugged her knees to her chest and sat in the darkness.  She didn’t even check the door, but she was completely certain that it was locked with magic more powerful than Arcane Lock.  Checking the door would be a waste and would only serve to make Raphael upset for disobeying him.

She sat silently in the darkness for what felt like hours.  How long had she been in here?   Was Raphael coming back?  She was still exhausted and growing thirsty.  Surliness was the easiest emotional state to fall into.

A long time passed before she heard the click of a lock and the creak of the door.  Light poured in through the door and it blinded her.  She shielded her eyes with the back of her hands.  Raphael’s devilish silhouette was there to greet her.  He helped her to her feet.  She was stiff and hungry and rather grumpy at her new husband.

She was unsteady after sitting cramped in the room on the floor for so long, and he put a hand on her waist to steady her.  “Come, let’s get you back to your room to rest,” Raphael led her through the halls.  “The sleep command can have some lingering side effects .”

“How long was I in there?” Tav asked him as they walked.

“Several bottles of Hellfire whiskey and a few rather unpleasant discussions with Canian contacts sent by the Lord of the Eighth.”

“Is it still night ?” Tav asked, given that the light of Avernus would not yield that piece of information to her willingly.

“It is almost what you would call dawn , Little Mouse.”  That fucker really left her in his vault most of an evening and all night.

“Why did you lock me in a vault?  You could have just sent me to my room,” Tav snapped at him.

“We will discuss it when you’ve had some rest, dearest.”

When they reached the door to her room, Raphael paused and kissed her chastely on the cheek.  “Get some sleep.”

“Don’t you dare use another fucking spell on me,” Tav warned.  Raphael smirked before opening her door for her, and Tav wasted no time in quickly preparing for bed and crawling into her four poster bed for the first time.

Dreamless sleep came easily.

Tav awoke at some point the next day, she wasn’t entirely sure if it was late morning or well into midday.  She would have to ask Raphael for a clock.  With her luck he would get her a sundial.

One of the servants had placed a light meal on the table in her room with a cool ewer of water.  There was some bread and cheese, some fruits, and a couple of hard boiled eggs.  Tav chuckled.  They figured me out, I guess.

Still, the gesture was thoughtful, and thoughtfulness was at a shortage in the Hells.  

She ate quickly, not realizing how hungry or thirsty she was.  A hot bath made her realize how sore she had been.  The water and bath oils soothed her aching muscles.  She dried and dressed, grabbing a red dress that wasn’t the most ridiculously opulent one in her wardrobe.  She clasped her bracelet around her wrist and went to find Raphael.

He was in his study, sitting at his wooden desk and analyzing several contracts.

“Hello, Raphael,” Tav greeted, completely unsure what time of day it was and unable to offer a more specific greeting.  She sat down in the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

“Good afternoon, my Little Mouse.  I hope you slept well.”  Raphael continued to edit a few clauses in one of the documents.

“ Someone ensured that I did.”  Raphael chuckled to himself.  He pushed his contracts back and turned his attention to her.

“What can I do for you, my dearest?”

“Why did you lock me in your vault?  Why didn’t you just send me to my room?” Tav demanded.  Raphael looked her over carefully, turning her question over in his mind.

“I had to take some steps to mitigate a few risks.”  Great.  His characteristic non-answers.

“It was just a few fiends from Cania.  You have the Crown of Karsus, what could they possibly do to you?”  Raphael cocked an eyebrow at her and swallowed down a large dose of irritation.  He snapped and the contracts on his desk disappeared.  His inkpots and quills were immediately returned to perfect order.

“It was not me they were here to find, Little Mouse.  They were trying to ascertain whether you were here.  If they knew where you were, it is possible they would have planned for a raid on the House of Hope.”

Tav was taken aback.  “Why are Mephistopheles’s goons looking for me?  How did they know to look here?  Do they know we’re married?”

Raphael took a deep breath, and Tav could see she was hitting close to a nerve Raphael wanted to avoid.  “No.  They don’t know, and I didn’t want anyone to find out you were here until after the consummation of our marriage.”

“Is that some sort of weird Infernal binding clause?”  Tav didn’t understand why it did or didn’t matter whether she and Raphael had sex, unless there was something very unusual about Infernal marital relations that she just didn’t know about.

“No, it’s related to the Crown of Karsus,” Raphael explained.  He took a long pause and swallowed, trying to figure out how to broach the subject.  “How much do you know of the Crown and its sister artifacts?”

“The Regalia?  Not much beyond that there’s the Orb of Karsus and the Scepter out there somewhere.  It was something Gale was studying when we stole the Annals of Karsus from Sorcerous Sundries.”  Raphael’s jaw visibly strained when she mentioned Gale’s name.  “I don’t know anything about the artifacts other than the Crown, which I gave to you , and presumably you understand quite a lot more about it now than I ever will.”

Raphael pulled a scrying mirror from his desk and conjured up a view of her former room at the Elfsong Tavern.  Her belongings had been rifled through and thoroughly searched.  Everything she owned was tossed around on the floor.  Drawers were opened.  A deep gash was sliced in the mattress to allow access to the inside and feathers were strewn about.  Alan wouldn’t be happy, but seeing as Raphael was unlikely to let her return, it really didn’t matter much anymore.  

“Warlocks and spies of the Hells found the note that I left for you with your wedding presents.  It indicated you may be here, so my father sent an attachment to investigate.  It wouldn’t have been an issue if the note had been properly disposed of ,” Raphael muttered sarcastically.

“I thought I was going back,” Tav quickly reminded him.  A deep grumble in Raphael’s chest indicated a reluctant acceptance of her argument.  Raphael changed the image on the scrying mirror to show the Elfsong Tavern bar and patrons.

“These two,” Raphael pointed out with a claw.  “They’re agents of Zariel, one warlock and one glamored fiend.”  He pointed to a different booth with a man and woman pretending to be engaged in conversation.  “These are two warlocks pacted to Mephistopheles.”  A nervous high elf sat at the bar.  “He is indebted to Mammon, and his fiend handler is likely watching the door to your room.”  Raphael chuckled to himself and grinned broadly.  He changed the image in the scrying mirror to the Sorcerous Sundries.  Tav noted several humans clearly not engaged in magical reading materials or really shopping for anything at all, only observing the surroundings.  “I did manage to convince our unwanted visitors that ‘-R’ in the note was likely the new master of Ramazith’s Tower and that the ‘House of Hope’ was a coincidental name referencing said archmage’s debaucherous new sex dungeon.” The glee in Raphael’s voice was palpable.  Tav felt a great stab of irritation that Raphael just sent an entire legion of several Hells to harass Rolan and his siblings.

“Have I been followed by fiends ever since I gave you the Crown?  Did I just get lucky with not being abducted by the Hells, well other than-” Tav gestured to her surroundings, trusting that Raphael understood the exception.

“It took some time for the knowledge to spread that the Savior of Baldur’s Gate handed me the Crown of Karsus.  If you had been in any danger, I was bound in our marriage contract to keep you safe.  I would have collected you earlier if I had any reason to do so.”

“Alright, so I was being tailed because I gave you the Crown of Karsus?  The exchange was already done, why would I continue to matter?” Tav challenged.

“The other Archdevils of the Hells suspect that I tasked you with finding and returning the other parts of the Regalia of Karsus to me,” Raphael clarified, leaning over his desk.  “They are looking to stop me from gaining the Regalia’s full power, which would be an incredible threat to each of them.  The full Regalia gives godlike power, far more than the foolish wizard could comprehend.”

“Why on Toril would they assume that I know anything about Karsus’s Orb or his Scepter?”

Raphael gave her a devilish smile.  “They do not know where all the elements of the Regalia of Karsus are, but I do .”  Raphael crossed over to Tav’s side of his desk, stood behind her, and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I collected the Scepter of Karsus more than a millennium ago, but I could not use its power unless I could separate myself from the Weave.  My father Mephistopheles had the Crown of Karsus hidden in his vault, and I had to wait until it was stolen by my former pageboy and his murderous lover.  The only piece that I had not located at that time was the Orb of Karsus, which the disgraced ‘Gale of Waterdeep’ paraded right in front of my eyes.”  Raphael gave a smug, dramatic pause.

“You gifted me the Crown.  I am in possession of all three pieces of Karsus’s legacy now, with one small caveat.”  Raphael purred into her ear.

“Which is?”  Tav felt the deep ache of anxiety in her chest.

“The Orb of Karsus was fractured by Gale of Waterdeep and needs to be repaired before it will function correctly.”  Raphael continued to rub her shoulders.  He hissed out Gale’s name.

“I don’t understand,” Tav started.  “How did Gale fracture the Orb in his chest?”

Raphael paused for a moment.  “I’m not entirely sure yet, but it had something to do with the bond he had with you.  As I recall, he fell dreadfully ill after proposing that the two of you join in marriage, correct?”

Tav furrowed her brows.  How could Raphael possibly know that?  Astarion.   “Yes, I thought it was influenza, but I suppose that’s usually how his Arcane Hunger always presented itself until the Orb was stabilized by Mystra.”  She swallowed nervously.  “So, you extracted parts of the Orb from Gale after I gave you the Crown?”

Raphael grinned.  “Most of it was still present, but I still have to acquire the missing piece.”

“What happened to the rest of it?” Tav asked him warily.  Raphael’s grin became greedy.

“He inadvertently gave the broken fragment of the Orb of Karsus to you .”

“That’s impossible, I don’t have any sign of that like his Karsite scar,” Tav argued.

Raphael’s claws tapped the silvery white scales over her sternum.  “You do have a similar, lighter scar, but it is hidden by your draconic lineage.”  Tav brought her hand up to his on her chest.

“So the Orb has been completely extracted from Gale?  He’s not going to erupt?” Tav asked tentatively, knowing that she was walking a fine line with Raphael’s patience and bringing up an ex-fiance was likely to send him into a rage.

Raphael’s claws tapped gently over her shoulders.  His right hand gently came to rest across her throat, his thumb stroking her jaw.

“After you gave me my Crown, I tracked down the former archmage and your Selunite cleric at an inn as they traveled up the Sword Coast.  I offered to remove the Orb for the price of a small trinket worth less than twenty gold.  The cleric wanted him to refuse, but I reminded the wizard that Mystra’s protection of the Orb wouldn’t last forever, given that he was feeding directly from the Weave and had planned to usurp her.  The wizard agreed and signed my contract with him.

“I didn’t tell him how painful the extraction process would be, that was irrelevant.  His screaming was loud enough to wake the entire Sword Coast, so I had to Silence him.  Piece by piece, I took the Orb of Karsus from his chest in blissful silence.  It took almost two full days to extract, but I acquired it from him.”  Tav’s blood ran cold.  “He is completely free of it now.  Don’t worry, I told him that my wife sends her regards .”

“What did you take from him as part of the deal?”  For such a small amount of coin, it had to be something truly sentimental.  Raphael snapped and the object appeared in his hand.  He handed it to her.

Gale’s earring.

Tav quickly tossed the earring on Raphael’s desk as if it were on fire.  Gale hadn’t removed that earring for almost two decades.  He received it at Blackstaff.  Raphael chuckled.

An empty hole filled Tav’s chest.  She was the one who betrayed Gale.  She stole the Crown from him, so she could get what she wanted.  Now, Raphael had collected the Orb from his chest but also took his dignity and his memories of better days before forbidden Karsite books and his dalliance with Mystra.

“I believe I found a much gentler extraction process for you,” Raphael ran the back of his hands over her jaw.  “I cannot use the Orb unless it is repaired, so I must take it from you.”  He wasn’t thinking about her virtue before, he was referring to a piece of the Regalia of Karsus.

“It’s good to know you don’t want me screaming like one of your debtors.”

“No.” Raphael confirmed, his lips hovering just behind her right ear.  “Though I am open to you screaming in more pleasurable contexts .”

“So then, how are you planning on removing it?”

“The removal should be much easier when the Orb is in my possession, or rather when the Orb is within one of my possessions.  With our marriage contract permanently finalized, it should be a fairly simple process.  A Sleep command should get you through the worst of it, if not all of the pain of extraction.”  Tav was not keen on the idea of spending more than a day screaming in pain having a piece of Karsite history being forcefully ripped out of her.

“What do you mean by permanently finalized?” Tav demanded.

“Our contract is still open to some amount of negotiation until it is consummated, per Canian law.”  Raphael placed his hands on her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze before returning to his chair on the other side of the desk.  “True ownership of the Orb fragment inside of you will then transfer to me, and it should be straightforward to extract it from an extension of myself .”

“I could have been making demands this entire time?” Tav questioned.  Given that her original contract had stipulated a time limit for consummation, she was going to need to give Raphael her body before dawn or risk default.  Defaulting on her marriage contract.  There was sure to be some sort of cruel punishment attached to that.

There was no real way to get out of her marriage.  If she left, she was going to be devoured by any number of different Archdevils and tortured in ways she couldn’t possibly comprehend.  The alternative to torture by Mephistopheles or Mammon was to fuck Raphael.  At least Raphael had offered to be gentle.  There was no chance that his father was going to flay her gently.

“There is still some time for negotiations, my dearest.”

“I want to be able to have real conversations with the serving staff and the Archivist without you threatening to dismember them,” Tav demanded.  “Or harm them in any way!” she added quickly, immediately recognizing the loophole her husband was sure to find.  She corrected herself, “I want you to allow me to interact with the staff without interference or threats of violence or termination of employment.”

“What do I get in return?” Raphael demanded, leaning on his desk.

“If I can only communicate with you and Haarlep, I fear that my conversational skills will eventually devolve into only being able to talk about fucking and cum or speaking entirely in iambic pentameter, likely both at the same time.  Unless you want all of our discussions to be about fucking and cum in iambic pentameter, I am going to need others that I can converse with .”  Tav offered in response.  Raphael grinned.  He snapped and her contract appeared.

“I agree to those terms.  Well played, my love.”  Another line of runes appeared on her contract.

“I want an Infernal tutor.  You can select them, but if I am going to exist in your world, I don’t want to be just a trophy in your collection.”  Tav stipulated, resenting how she was immediately thrust into his vault like any other number of precious objects.

“Xe iqryy za zmiz rynfywz,” Raphael answered easily, and Tav felt a slight swell of pride at his agreement.  Another line appeared on the parchment.

“Well then,” Tav stood and faced her husband.  His gaze remained fixed on hers.  “Perhaps I should prepare for bed.”  She was well aware it was still late afternoon.

****

Tav stood at her wardrobe, trying to pick an outfit to wear for her husband to consummate their marriage.  The drawer in front of her was filled with a variety of different smallclothes of different materials and colors.  Lace, satin, gauze, leather .  Leather?  Like Haarlep’s harness?  Yes, an exact replica of Haarlep’s harness.   Gross.   She chose the simplest option, and covered herself up with the red silk nightgown from her wedding night.  

She felt ready this time.  She placed three firm knocks on the Archduke’s suite door.

“Come in.”  His order was short and to the point.

Tav entered his room.  Raphael sat again at the settee on the far side of the room, reading a book by candlelight.  The curtains were drawn, but far fewer candles were lit this time.  Raphael made no move to greet her and continued to remain engrossed in his book.

Tav walked into the center of the room and waited.  Raphael looked at her, trying to appear disinterested, but she was certain his resolve would break before too long.  If she wanted to be anything other than an object in their marriage, she had to learn to best Raphael at his own games.

She held out her hand, hoping he would join her.  This is my wedding night , Tav affirmed.  This time, I want to.

Raphael made a show of continuing to read his book, occasionally looking at her from the corner of his eye before dramatically ignoring her again.  She held steadfast, hand outstretched.

So, he wants to play it this way.

Tav untied the sash from her robe and let it fall from her shoulders onto the floor.  She once again held her hand outstretched for Raphael to make the next move.

His resolve may have lasted another round or two if Tav had decided to wear anything at all under the silk robe.  She stood completely bare in front of him, her hand still waiting for his.

This move somehow managed to make her more interesting than his book.

Raphael immediately rose and walked over to her, again standing a respectful distance away.  She closed the distance and tenderly brushed back the hair from behind his ear.  She pulled his head towards hers and whispered in his ear.  “Yes.”

His mouth immediately met hers in a hungry, sloppy kiss.  She relished in how easily she could disarm the  Master of the House’s defenses.  His claws roughly pawed at her curves, leaving dull scratch lines on her hips.  She met his kiss back with equal fervor, pressing her body against his.  As she grinded her hips against him, deep growls rumbled in his chest.  She slipped her tongue into his mouth and could feel how quickly he was growing hard.

Raphael wasted no time in scooping her into his arms and carrying her to his bed.  He lay her down carefully on her back and let his gaze slowly roam her form.

She took a deep breath and relaxed.

Raphael’s eyes roamed slowly over her body, consuming every part they laid eyes on.  He was still standing by the side of the bed, inspecting the spoils of his prized contract.  Tav propped herself up on her elbows and gave him a cheeky smile.  She slowly circled her left nipple with an icy fingertip, and it hardened instantly under her touch.  Raphael’s eye twitched slightly as he watched her.  She raised her hand to do the same to her right but wasn’t given the chance.  

Raphael lunged on top of her, settling himself between her legs.  He leaned forward to kiss her, supporting his weight on his forearms, so he wouldn’t crush her with his size.  She closed her eyes and kissed him hungrily, inviting his forked tongue into her mouth.  Tav let out a soft groan at the sensation of his tongue surrounding hers.  He chuckled slightly into her mouth and let his hands start to roam down her body.  She ran her hands through his hair right behind his horns, caressing one of his ears with her thumb.

He leaned back to allow for a better view while he touched her.  His hands began to gently caress and squeeze everywhere.  Tav smiled at him, trying to learn which parts of her body pleased him the most.  He was gentle with her breasts, kneading and stroking.  His touch was much firmer with her ass, grabbing and squeezing and leaving behind claw marks.  She grinded her hips up against his again, and he let out a primal groan.  Tav urged him to lay closer, so she could explore his body.  She firmly traced the ridges on his chest before wrapping her arms around him and stroking where his wings met his back.  

Raphael started to kiss down her neck.  He began gently but only managed a few before he greedily sucking and biting the sensitive skin, leaving marks in his wake.  As Raphael bit at her neck, Tav started to stroke her clit, giving into the mirrored sensations of pleasure and pain.  She let out a deep moan, and Raphael noticed what she was doing with her fingers.  He grabbed her hand and immediately pinned it above her, kissing her deeply.  He brought an index finger to her clit and rubbed it in circles, too hard and too fast.  She moaned softly into his mouth, and he ceased his ministrations.  He worked swiftly to unlace and discard his silk lounging pants, leaving him naked and grinding against her.

Raphael probed at her entrance with his fingertips to see if she was prepared and was satisfied at the wetness that awaited him.  Tav wrapped her legs around him, her ankles resting at the base of his tail.  She should have anticipated that Raphael was not a big fan of foreplay.

He entered her.  He moaned deeply at the sensation and gave a few slow, shallow thrusts before settling himself in deeper with a firmer rhythm.  

It was tight, stretching, and slightly painful.  She should have prepared herself more for him.  Raphael was ridged and girthy.  The drag of him on less-than-lubricated flesh stung and resisted Raphael’s insistent penetration, leading to more discomfort.  She gave a short, pained intake of breath during a particularly hard thrust.   Raphael’s eyes locked on hers, trying to wordlessly ascertain her feelings.  She kissed him again passionately to let him know this was still what she wanted.  She unwound her legs from his torso and tried to reclaim her pleasure despite his uncoordinated motions.

The rhythm was all wrong for her: it was too erratic.  She kept losing the sensations of pleasure with his non-rhythmic thrusting.  She tried to cant her hips upward for him to hit a better angle, but he held her hips still in his claws.  She tried to use the leverage from her legs to try to grind into him to get more friction or a more pleasurable angle, but all efforts were immediately outdone by the strength of his cambion form.  His claws dug sharply into the flesh of her hips.  She desperately wanted him to grind down into her, giving her the craved friction instead of his unrelenting thrusts.  She grabbed his ass hard, trying to pull him down to grind on her, but he resisted her attempts.

Tav combed her hands through his hair as he lowered his mouth to the side of her neck, alternating between placing frantic kisses and groaning between panting breaths.  The pace of his thrusts became faster.  Raphael gripped her jaw and moved it, so she was looking up at him.  His eyes were filled with lust and messy.  He was barely hanging onto any coherent thought as he lost himself in her body.

Raphael made a few more erratic thrusts and let out a deep groan.  Tav could feel his hot spend buried deep inside her.  He stilled but remained buried inside her.  He ran a clawed hand tenderly through her hair.

“My wife,” he spoke softly and breathlessly.

It was done.  She was his forevermore.   They consummated their marriage and there was no going back.

“How do you feel?” Raphael probed gently, his thumb traced softly over her lower lip.

“A bit sore,” Tav answered him honestly.  “How do you feel?” she asked him.

“Glorious,” Raphael answered her quickly.  He withdrew from her and placed a fond kiss on her cheek.  The skin of her sex felt raw and irritated.  She was covered with bite and claw marks from his affections.  She looked up at him and his golden gaze burned into hers.  She suddenly felt incredibly tired.   “Rest, my wife,” he ordered gently.  Tav’s eyes began to flutter closed as his spell worked on her.  “It’s time to sleep.”

[moss-opossum]

I don’t feel like I have any super substantive updates on my patch vest (I’ve been in a pretty bad flareup for a bit), but there are some new additions so I thought I’d share anyway.

Image description: the front of a dark grey denim vest with the arm holes hand-hemmed in red thread. On the left lapel is a large heart-shaped it/its pin surrounded by a cloudy rainbow border. On the chest beside it is an enamel Magen David pin in the colors of the trans flag, beside which is a crocheted watermelon attached with a safety pin. On the left breast pocket is a cross-stitched asexual flag secured with dark purple thread and an acrylic pin of an opossum holding a non-binary heart. On the right breast pocket there is a machine-embroidered sunflower patch, and beneath that is another machine-embroidered patch reading “disabled is not a bad word”, secured by lavender thread. Above the pocket is a genderqueer flag pin, next to that is a cross-stitched patch reading “I mask so I don’t bite you” in all caps with a red border and “bite” in red. Above that is a small holographic pin with a sparkly rainbow heart on it. /end description

Image description: the back of the same vest, with two stenciled black patches, one on each shoulder, each secured by x-shaped stitches in lavender thread. The one on the left reads “queer joy”, the one on the right reads “T4T”. /end description

I love my vest and I love talking about it, so if anyone has questions about any part of it please don’t be shy to ask!

[molagboop]

Examining Chozo Anatomy: Arms

Welcome to my deep-dive into Chozo anatomy. Today, I'll be discussing features present on the arms and hands of our feathery fellows.

This post exists simultaneously as a reference for artists and as a fascinating look into the world of Chozo anatomy for all audiences. Whether you're here for references showing how Chozo arms are built or you enjoy taking a peek at Metroid Dread's character models out of game, I've got you covered!

You'll find plenty of images and a full breakdown of the anatomical structure of Chozo arms beneath the cut.

First, a quick overview: from a musculoskeletal standpoint, Chozo arms are built exactly like human arms, diverging at the hands. Chozo hands look like bird feet that evolved in much the same way our hands did.

Part 1: Elbows

Dread Chozo have feathers protruding from their scaly elbows.

Underneath every fountain of large plumage is a soft bed of down. This manifests in patches of plush, miniscule feathers that are grouped together somewhat densely.

Our subjects appear to have primarily smooth skin occasionally interrupted by spots of down from which plumage arises, but I think Chozo that are feathery all over are neat. The concept art and 100% gallery rewards seem to paint a picture of softer Chozo with more feathers all over their bodies (save for their plated arms and hard beaks), but the in-game models appear smooth. We're all familiar with Raven Beak's bald head (which many of us have expressed a desire to slap), but perhaps that head is covered in a fine layer of velvety feathers?

I managed to remove Quiet Robe's left pauldron and embroidered sleeve, so I have a fuller view of his whole arm, including the base of his feathery neck.

Quiet Robe's shoulders are quite smooth. If you want to give peepaw Robe fuzzy shoulders, I certainly wouldn't complain: you don't need to remain 100% on-model, especially considering there's a gaping hole in his back underneath that miter, and the front of his robe hides the abyss instead of an old man's breast. Corners were cut to prevent obtrusive clipping in cutscenes, whose animation plays out in-engine through scripting while the game is running (this is how the game manages to transition seamlessly from a cutscene into a boss fight).

If you'll direct your attention back up towards our Zero Mission concept art, you'll see that the Chozo of yore had spiked forearms/elbows. Those structures may indeed be feathers (upon closer inspection, they do seem feather-shaped: all three characters appear to display different variations in feathering, particularly in the shape of the feathers and how densely clustered they are), but the older designs also appear to possess a carapace of sorts?

The segments between their limbs are more pronounced, sort of like a beetle's exoskeleton. I'm not sure whether to think older Chozo designs had harder skin with feathers situated in specific locations (notably around the face and shoulders), or if our good chums are just skin and bones. Maybe the discs defining their wrists, ankles and elbows are just particularly bony, and I'm misreading their forearm feathers as spined protrusions.

Whatever the case may be, the older designs are charming. I find myself drawn to them despite the focus on submersing my own Chozo in fleshy, feathery pseudo-realism.

Part 2: Forearms and Hands

Like the feet of real birds, the tops of Chozo forearms are lined with rows of hardened scutes. Quiet Robe has cracked, chunky, pronounced plating that seems to show a bit of wear: a hallmark of aging.

Chozo hands consist of three fingers and a thumb. Their digit count is consistent with the amount of toes that most real birds possess. Interestingly, Quiet Robe's knuckles are particularly pointed and pronounced, where Raven Beak X's aren't*. They remind me of jagged little spurs: useful in hand-to-hand combat.

RB-X may not have raised knuckles, but the real Raven Beak's power suit has white knuckle guards that indicate his own might not be so different from our gentle friend. They could also exist to give his armored fist some punching power despite a lack of biological spurs, but this is all speculation.

The palms of both Quiet Robe and RB-X's hands appear to match their inner elbow patches: Quiet Robe's palms are bathed in a violet hue, while Raven Beak X has pink flesh. This is more apparent on RB-X than on our Thoha chum, but that coloration appears to extend some ways down the underside of the forearm.

Part 3: Those Weird Patches of Skin on the Inner Elbow

One thing you'll notice is that Chozo have patches of flesh on their inner elbows, under their arms, and between their fingers.

This flesh tends to differ in color from the rest of the skin. Quiet Robe's are darker, with more saturated red-violet hues.

The patches under the arms run in tandem with the serratus, the muscle on the sides of the torso that reaches inward towards the abdominals.

I tried to take a less weird shot, but couldn't figure out how to position the bones in a way that would provide a decently lit angle without warping the model horribly.

RB-X's patches are stretched, perhaps a quirk relating to its size or an abridging of the feature via the X tampering with the related genes to suit its fancy. I've likened their appearance to the gliding membranes of animals like flying squirrels... not that these are likely to assist the creature in any gliding with how little surface area they inhabit, but their dimension and the way they resemble some sort of connective tissue spanning between the segments of each limb is certainly evocative. It's like having webbed feet, but instead of the webbing being between one's toes, it's situated between the bicep and the forearm.

I'm unsure of whether to write their appearance off as something only RB-X has, or to take them into consideration for Chozo morphology. I've entertained the thought that some Chozo's inner and under-arm patches do manifest more like this (flattening against the body when the arm is extended and stretching as above when the elbow is bent), and how one's flesh appears is a matter of genetics, or perhaps a feature of aging.

As humans get older, some sections of skin begin to loosen and sag. I don't imagine this is much different for Chozo: Old Bird and Grey Voice certainly have their fair share of wrinkles in the manga. At first, I thought the way RB-X's flesh stretched between its limbs looked somewhat taut and uncomfortable, but the more I think about this from the lens of aging, the more likely it seems that these sections could be spots of loose skin. Perhaps this isn't an X-borne bug, but a feature? Who knows.

It's a lot harder to see the patches between the fingers on Quiet Robe's model, but they're present with a great deal of clarity on Raven Beak X.

I think I mentioned this in my post about Quiet Robe's model, but these patches remind me of an anatomical feature seen in older official works (like the concept art for Metroid: Zero Mission). Older depictions of the Chozo had defined, segmented structures on the biceps and the underside of the forearms.

Also of note is the fact that these structures appear on the legs of older Chozo.

Now that we've covered in-game examples, I'd like to give more examples of this feature in concept. First off, you can see these patches in the gallery reward for 100%'ing Burenia in Dread. Upon closer observation, the prisoner on the left appears to display these patches.

The underarm patches are obscured, as their arms are resting pretty close to their torso, but you can barely see the pink patch of flesh running along the serratus and disappearing beneath the arm. The elbow patches are a little clearer.

It's very difficult to see, but I think the coloration around the prisoners' knees may also show some stray sections of pink, matching the leftmost prisoner's inner elbow. Dread's interpretation of the Chozo could possibly have similar patches behind their knees, but I don't see it. It's all up in the air: I say do as you please in that department.

Now for our last example of shirtless individuals in Dread's key art: this hunter** from Ghavoran's 100% completion reward. The inner elbow is a bit obscured, but the modified serratus is clear as day.

The odd patches on Chozo arms were an anatomical subject I wanted to present in-depth because they've changed over the course of two decades: they moved from the sides of the biceps and forearms to the inner elbows and under the arms. Dread does a few things differently from Prime and Zero Mission, which is not a bad thing!

When illustrating characters of a fictional species from existing media, I like to take different depictions across generations into account. Morrowind's Argonians are unlike those we see in Skyrim, and the differences are even more staggering between Arena and Daggerfall! The Chozo have also undergone a few design changes between installments, though admittedly, there's far less whiplash between the Chozo of Dread and Zero Mission than there is between the Argonians of Daggerfall and Arena.

In both cases, the older depictions of the species in question aren't rendered "obsolete" or "not canon" by the newer designs. I'm of the opinion that these discrepancies merely open up more opportunities for interesting and diverse characters. I love seeing Argonian characters with digitigrade legs as Morrowind NPCs had, but the plantigrade layout on characters from the rest of the series is just as fine.

You could give your Chozo the arm structure of older designs, adhere to the more recent arm flesh patch conventions, or toy with a mix of the two: the world is your oyster! You could opt to omit them entirely! Don't let the most recent iteration of the canon hold you back: it's always worth taking a hint from earlier designs when you're playing in a sandbox with decades-old franchises.

I'm not here to say "this is how Dread does Chozo: adhere to the most recent canon or perish": I'm here to show you what Dread does so you can take these design choices into consideration when drawing your own interpretation of this species. Take liberties, and take them often! If you want to remain on-model, that's also fine.

That wraps up our investigation of Chozo arms, but if you notice something I neglected to mention, feel free to point it out!

**Possibly Raven Beak? Who knows: he's old and grey, this one's grey. Maybe these soldiers are out on a hunting trip with the boss, or perhaps he's proving his worth as a warrior by slaying Corpius' uncle solo and cuirass-less. There's no way to say for certain who this is or what's going on: Mawkin culture isn't elaborated upon much in writing during Metroid Dread. I make up my own lore as I go.

*If RB-X's form is an accurate depiction of Raven Beak's pre-death arms. Who knows, maybe his physical form has crusty armored old man scutes like Quiet Robe when Samus piledrives him into the surface of the planet, and the arms we see in-game are the product of the X parasite choosing the more glamorous, younger Raven Beak's smooth baby arms from the pool of genetic material it extracted from his still-writhing form. We'll never know.