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bookofbonbon · 7 months ago

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ours is the hunt - daemon targaryen.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader.

Warnings: 18+ Cheating. Hunting. Death/Killing. Mentions of pregnancy/ending a pregnancy. This is kinda fucked up, read the summary. Probably major spelling and grammar mistakes. Tense/POV mix ups.

Summary: Based on a request from the lovely @holy-minseok. like how westerosi kings warn the people of the consequences if they move out of line, reader presents daemons mistress to him on a spike with her swollen belly as a final warning for his betrayals.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: This took on a life of its own and didn't play out exactly as the request but, hopefully it's still enjoyable (well... as enjoyable as it can be). Italics section is a flashback.

The Kingswood is eerily silent in the minutes before sunrise. The party, like many of the woodland creatures, still slept, peaceful in their oblivion as servants moved quietly around the camp to prepare for the rush that daybreak would bring. You take a deep breath, the crisp forest air a welcome change from that of the stench of King’s Landing; the smell of the previous afternoon’s rain also lingers but it would dry with the promise of good weather and a bright sun.

“My Lady,” Ser Eadric Qyle calls, your most loyal, your sworn sword. “Everything is prepared to your instruction.”

“How many?”

“Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.”

The snap of a twig, a slight breeze, the distant wail of a wounded animal and the flutter of wings as the early morning bird sings its song as it flies across the waking sky. The forest whispers your name and you answer its call.

“Let the hunt begin.”

Your horse slows to a trot and eventually, to a stop as you approach the camp; an accompanying stablehand taking hold of the reins as a stool is brought to aid your dismount.

“I had wondered where my wife had gone,” Daemon’s voice comes from beside you with a hand held out. “I should have known to check the woods.”

Your smile is wide, eyes lighting up at his presence as you take his hand and dismount. He is still dressed in his sleeping robes, the Targaryen Prince having obviously just woken not long ago. The thought that he immediately came to seek you out upon waking endears you.

Steadying yourself with a hand on Daemon’s shoulder, you find your balance and firmly plant your feet on the stool; with the added height you find yourself at eye-level with him and greet him with a kiss to the side of his head.

“Good morrow, my love.”

Daemon returns the greeting by leaning into you with a groan, head dropping into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his arms wrapping around you.

“Remind me again why we must be here at this bloody thing?”

You wrap an arm around his shoulder, hand soothing his back.

“You cannot get out of this, Daemon,” you tell him with a small laugh.

Daemon groans again, his breath hot against your neck as he attempts to burrow his face deeper, grumbling all the while. He doesn’t get far however, when you thread your fingers through his unruly hair and pull.

“What was that, my love?”

“When you said you arranged a hunt for my name day, I thought it would be just us. Not a whole fucking camp for a Royal Hunt.”

While Daemon was content to revel in celebrations of his victory, a Royal Hunt and a Royal Tourney were two entirely different things. Besides, he could think of much better things to do on his name day and he makes it known, allowing you to hold his head in place, a familiar glint in his eyes that you force yourself to ignore.

“Did you really think your Lord-King brother would allow that? You have him to thank for-” you release his hair to gesture at the several tents. “-this.”

“Hm. How generous of him.”

You hum in agreement, adjusting the top of his robes.

“Very but, worry not, my love. Despite reports of only one stag, Ser Eadric and I managed to gain the trail of one other.”

A grin pulls at the corner of Daemon’s lips.

“The Royal Hunt will track one stag and we will hunt the other,” you finish. Using your grip on his robes to pull him closer, you brush your nose against his, before pressing your lips to his for a brief moment. He tries to deepen the kiss but you don’t allow him.

“Now, come,” you step down from the stool, taking his hand in yours. “Let's get you ready for the day.”

“Very well,” Daemon agrees, pressing a kiss to your hand with a charming smile.

You return the smile before turning and leading him back to the centre of the camp with a tight jaw.

Daemon’s mood lightens considerably thereafter. The Rogue Prince noticeably happier after you broke the news that the two of you would separate from the Royal Hunt because while Daemon loved to hunt, he hated not being the one to actually do it. He didn’t need someone else to track down the game just for him to land the final blow in some false display of strength and authority. He could do it himself. He wanted to do it himself. He liked to do it himself. And though his mood had lightened, you noted that it didn’t stop his eyes from wandering around in search of someone else.

By mid-morning, the camp is teeming with life, the several Lords and Ladies of Westeros who gathered in celebration of Daemon’s name day dotted all over the grounds and inside tents. You yourself enter the main tent with Ser Eadric, the grand structure larger than that of most of the homes of the smallfolk.

You don’t have to look far to find Daemon, Viserys’ great laugh leading you right to him; the two brother’s seated beside one another at a long table surrounded by other lords.

Turning to Eadric, you place a cloth in his hand. “Release the last stag and give this to the bloodhound,” you instruct. He nods, taking it in hand and departing.

Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders back to loosen them, a delightful smile gracing your lips as you approach Daemon and Viserys. Daemon immediately reaches out for you out of habit once you're seated, and you cradle his strong hand between your own.

“Ah my Lady,” Viserys greets you and you, him, with a bow of your head.

“Your Grace.”

“I have been meaning to offer you both my condolences following the death of your brother and my congratulations, I hear you have been named heir of Blood's End.”

You tighten your grip around Daemon’s hand then loosen it, both hands releasing his as you begin instead to fidget with your own fingers. Daemon notices immediately, taking hold of one of your hands in his, his grip firm in silent comfort as he sends you a reassuring look.

“A regrettable hunting accident,” you pull at the collar of your riding jacket. “But, please, accept my thanks for your congratulations, Your Grace. It is an honour and I can only hope to be half the ruler my Lord-father is of Blood's End.”

“Well, I cannot say what type of ruler you will be but, from what I heard you are double the hunter of that of what your brothers were and rival even that of your father-”

“Better,” Daemon interrupts proudly with a squeeze of your hand.

“Better?” Viserys’ repeats in amusement.

You breathe a laugh at Daemon’s antics, “I am able to hold my own somewhat.”

Daemon scoffs at your downplay of your skill, “my wife is humble, brother but, I am not. She is the better between her and her father. Perhaps one of the best in all the land.”

You make a show of balking at the declaration, forcing a meek laugh “I- that is not-”

But, Viserys’ cuts you off, holding one hand up in surrender, “if Daemon says you are one of the best then I believe him. I mean what good is it if House Chase’ words are ‘Ours is the Hunt’ if they cannot do exactly that?”

Viserys’ laughs heartily at his own joke and you spare a glance at Daemon who grins at you playfully.

The conversation teeters off soon after that as Daemon and Viserys’ listen to the report sent by the Royal Huntsman. You in turn, turn your attention to one of your Ladies-in-waiting, Lady Millicent. While the custom of having Ladies-in-waiting was unusual outside of the Great Houses, the custom was needed within your own House as it was in fact greater than even that of your liege lords, House Baratheon. House Chase commanded both a larger army and fertile lands that weren’t felled by the terrible weather that surrounded Storm’s End. House Chase was second to Baratheon in rank only.

“My Lady, I’ve been meaning to ask but, where is Lady Gwendolyn? I’ve not seen her around the camp all morning, I fear-”

“Yes,” Daemon interrupts abruptly. “Where is Lady Gwendolyn?”

You delight at the question, ears burning as you turn your attention to Daemon about your newest Lady-of-waiting of six, maybe seven months.

“I did not know you had such a keen interest in my ladies of waiting. Husband.”

“My only interest is that she attends to my grooming every morning and yet, when I needed her this morning, she was nowhere to be found.”

Daemon shrugs the question off with a practiced ease while your lips almost pull dangerously downwards, mask hanging by a thread and nearly slipping completely at the brazen statement. Instead you fix your smile, reaching across to smooth the neck of his hunting attire.

“I have given Lady Gwendolyn leave while we are here, she is likely with her kin in the woods.”

A dull light permeates from the lantern in your hand, bathing its immediate surroundings - including yourself - in a warm glow as you carefully navigate the unfamiliar bed chambers that your husband had come to frequent as of late. Shadows bouncing off of the walls, the silhouettes of the two figures in the bed become clearer the closer you get.

See, you weren’t naive to the ways of men and their crude sexual appetites; the way they would seek out other women when their wives could not sate them.

‘It is the way of men, he will have his whores and his playthings but you are his wife and no whore can take away from you.’ is what your mother had told you but, you would not heed her words. You would not lay down while your husband took mistresses and whores alike and you had told him so, warning him once of the consequences.

Placing the lantern down on the bedside table, you peer down at the Baratheon beauty laid in the bed with your husband; a few drops of milk of the poppy in their goblets and it was keeping both husband and whore sedated.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight as you settle yourself beside her sleeping figure, hip to hip as you take a closer look at your Lady-in-waiting, who had also taken up position as Daemon’s mistress, stealing both his time and attention from you.

Lady Gwendolyn of House Baratheon, the niece of a cousin of a second son nobody; a distant relative carrying the Great name of the Great Stags of the Stormlands.

“Ser Eadric,” you call on your sworn sword; fingers ghosting over her abdomen. The swell is slight but it is there. “Our Prince’s name day is fast approaching. Ensure arrangements have begun at first light. We will celebrate like none before.”

The sun sits at its peak in the sky, streams of its light filtering through the tops of the forest's trees. The crossbow is heavy in Daemon’s hands as he sits astride his horse, sweat gathering on his forehead as he watches his surroundings; the reins of your own horse in his other hand. He had led the first few hours, and now you had taken over.

As planned, the two of you went out with the Royal Hunt and eventually broke off under the guise of returning to the camp.

Daemon’s ears perk at the sound of a nearby wail and the flutter of several wings as a group of birds seem to scatter. Dismounting, Daemon joins you on the ground, coming to stand behind you as he scans the woods for any signs of danger. There is no danger however, just your blood hound.

Daemon moves past you and calls the hound to heel at his side.

“We’re close,” you toss the hours old droppings back onto the ground and pick up your own crossbow. “These droppings are fresh.”

“Very close.” Daemon calls you over to where the bloodhound sits obediently by his feet. There is blood around its jowl. A thrill goes down your spine at the sight, knowing that the two of you were close now.

“We go on foot from here,” he declares, trying the reins of your horses to a nearby tree and you agree.

Moving silently ahead through the Kingswood, what was once vibrating with life, has now come to standstill with your approach. All the woodland creatures recognising the two predators hunting in their territory.

Your eyes flitter from the ground to up ahead as you follow the Stag’s tracks, Daemon trailing behind you and then- the sudden trample of hooves to the left of you and a blur of brown and then silence.

“Daemon,” you whisper and nod up ahead.

There in the distance stands the Great Stag the two of you had been hunting for the better part of four hours, its mammoth antlers moving frantically as it turned its head over and over.

Daemon places a hand on the small of your back and you turn your head toward him.

“From here?” you ask and he nods, stepping carefully in front of you.

The Stag stumbles around clumsily, which Daemon can only assume is from when the bloodhound must’ve sunk its teeth into it but it otherwise remains in the same area, believing itself to be safe.

“Let us test out the might of these crossbows from here,” Daemon croons quietly. The armourer had declared it the single most powerful crossbow, capable of bringing down the greatest creatures from an even greater distance.

Positioning himself, Daemon presses his body against yours, your hand touching his collar before you slide it down and place it on his waist. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of both of your breaths as you watched over his shoulder. He lines up the shot, finger on the trigger, your breaths in harmonious sync, his back against your chest as your hearts beat as one. You slide a hand underneath his arm, steadying his hold and with a kiss to his shoulder blade, he pulls.

Thwack!

The recoil is slight as the sound reverberates with a sickening crunch. The Stag cries out but, before it can make a move to run, you’re passing Daemon your own crossbow and he sends another arrow straight through its neck with perfect precision.

There’s a beat of silence as the entire woods including yourselves come to a halt, your breaths the only sound that could be heard. It’s soon broken however, by your laughter, the sound building into something hysterical as you step away from Daemon. Catching Daemon’s attention, he turns to you, initially in concern, it doesn’t take long however for him to join you when he sees how delighted you are. Catching you by the back of your neck, Daemon pulls you into him, his mouth covering yours in a searing kiss which you happily return.

“Shall we claim our prize?” you break the kiss, foreheads pressed together.

Daemon nods, taking your hand into his and eagerly leading the way.

You hum happily beneath your breath, keeping a keen eye on him as the two of you get closer, watching and waiting, watching and waiting until finally- there’s a catch in his breath, footsteps faltering as his head tilts, bemused. You feel the way his hand twitches in your hold, grip loosening as he glances back at you, confused until- a sharp intake of breath and the realisation of not, what he has killed but, who.

You slip your hand from his hold as he chokes on a gasp at the sight of his mistress, his whore, the Lady Gwendolyn. She is covered in a layer of mud, her usual gown replaced with a dirty and ripped tunic and pants, a strip of cloth tied around her mouth and gagging her. One arrow shot through her chest, nailing her to the tree behind her and the second through her neck; on the floor beside her lies the head of a stag.

Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.

“What is this?” Daemon speaks in abject horror.

“The last one,” you tell him grimly.

Daemon continues to stare at Gwendolyn, dazed and not understanding what was happening as he watches blood drip from her wounds and onto her swelling belly.

“What have you done?”

“What have I done? What have you done?” you tut, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Do not fret, I granted her this small mercy, my last mercy,” you inform him, hand adjusting his collar. “A quick and clean death.”

Your words seems to bring him back to himself, horror and confusion short lived and replaced with a fury you had never seen before. It does naught to frighten you though.

“She was with child,” he turns on you, jaw impossibly tight as he spits the words at you; crowding you against a tree. “My child.”

“I know,” you tell him softly with a nod.

Your placidness unsettles him. You can see it in his eyes and the way he flinches at your touch when you brush his hair back from either side of his face.

“So heed this as my final warning for your betrayals. I won’t be so nice if there’s another one.”

Steadying yourself with a hand on his arm, you reach up and press a kiss to the side of his head, “happy name day, Daemon.”

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #hotd fanfic #matt smith x reader #matt smith fanfiction

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solxamber · 23 days ago

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Trash Novel Chronicles Masterlist

1. Please Let Me Live || Vil Schoenheit

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think?

Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

2. Villain System vs World || Riddle Rosehearts

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading as the villainess, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

3. I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad || Lilia Vanrouge

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse as the heroine, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

4. Accidentally Falling for a Fae Prince || Malleus Draconia

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, as the heroine herself, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

5. Not Another Royal Mess || Azul Ashengrotto

As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel as the villainess, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.

6. Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles || Leona Kingscholar

When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!

7. I Want To Retire! || Idia Shroud

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it.

Now, as the villainess, you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

8. Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess.

So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport with the help of your fiancé, Jamil Viper.

9. Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked for after a freak accident and end up getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager.

As the villainess. It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

10. My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

You get isekai'd into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, 15 weird consorts, a traitor and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.

11. Get Me Out of Here || Rook Hunt

You’re isekai’d into a trashy novel and stuck as a tragic side knight character. All you want is survival, but your boss is Rook Hunt—a poetic, eccentric duke.

Now you’re caught in his chaos and, worse, you kinda don’t mind.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #trash novel chronicles

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temiizaltacc · 4 months ago

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☆┊NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE HOST CLUB

SERIES SUMMARY: after stumbling into twisted wonderlands night raven college, all you wanted was to find your way home. as you tried to find a place to research you stumble into its renowned host club with some.. interesting characters.. once you’ve knocked over one of their most expensive vases, worth more than you could possibly afford, you too must join the host club and repay your debts.

MEET THE CAST

ROOK HUNT as TAMAKI SUOH

AZUL ASHENGROTTO as KYOYA OOTORI

JADE LEECH as HIKARU HITACHIIN

FLOYD LEECH as KAORU HITACHIIN

LILIA VANROUGE as MITSUKUNI HANINOZUKA

MALLEUS DRACONIA as TAKASHI MORINOZUKA

YUU or MC as HARUHI FUJIOKA

DISCLAIMERS: CHARACTERS WILL NOT ACT EXACTLY AS THEIR ASSUMED ROLE. PERSONALITIES WILL STILL BE SIMILAR TO CANON, BUT SITUATIONS WILL BE (SOMEWHAT) SAME AS SEEN IN THE SHOW. MC WILL BE AFAB THERE’LL BE NO TWINCEST OR HOMOPHOBIA

EP. LIST

ep. 1 starting today, you are a host

ep. 2 the job of a highschool host

ep. 3 beware the physical exam

ep. 4 attack of the movie star manager

ep. 5 the twins fight

ep. 6 the grade school host is the naughty type

ep. 7 jungle pool SOS

ep. 8 the sun, the sea, and the host club

ep. 9 a challenge from royal sword academy

ep. 10 a day in the life of [mc]

ep. 11 big brother is a prince

ep. 12 lilia's 3 bitter days

ep. 13 [mc] is home.. we think

ep. 14 covering the famous host club

ep. 15 refreshing battle in the queendom of roses

ep. 16 operation [mc] and jade's first date

ep. 17 azul's reluctant day out

ep. 18 sebek's "down with humans" declaration

ep. 19 royal sword academy strikes back

ep. 20 the door the twins opened

ep. 21 until the day it becomes a pumpkin

ep. 22 malleus has an apprentice candidate

ep. 23 rook’s unwitting depression

ep. 24 and so azul met him

ep. 25 the host club declares dissolution

ep. 26 this is our night raven festival

ENDINGS: rook azul jade floyd lilia malleus

SOME THINGS ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE.

MAJOR CANON-DIVERGENCE

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le-monchou · 2 months ago

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secret siren || leona kingscholar

this is payment for @nemisisnemi drawing the header of my self-insert masterlist. it looks wonderful i love it sm || 519 words

recently, the second prince of the sunset savannah had been... missing. not in the way one would consider a loud proclamation against his brother and father's authority, but a quiet, slinking absense, one that indicated a lack of interest, or worse, defeat. which was odd to anyone who had served the royal family for decades, since the second prince was not one to be defeated or lie down with his head low, mane framing his head similar to their ancestor who led the rebellion against the original royal family and won.

but currently, unknown to them, the second prince was on a hunt beyond the shores of the capital, and he was this close to sanding the boat and swimming back (nothing he couldn't replace eventually, really). the voice in his head was, once again, reminding him that he was likely mistaken, since there was never any actually documented evidence of sirens this close to tropical and arid waters, considering that they were close cousins of merfolk like jade and floyd leech.

rolling his eyes at himself, leona lowers his makeshift anchor, opening the protein bar he'd snatched from one of the supermarkets on the way (and yes, before his own conscience could protest, he'd paid as quickly as possible- and damn the ramshackle prefect who isn't even here, they've given him morals) and chewing on it slowly as he observes the waters. still and calm as usual, he hears a makeshift version of his own voice say in his head, and with the sun setting in the horizon behind him, leona sighs and pulls the anchor up, preparing to leave.

"that's an interesting fruit." leona hears suddenly, and he whips around so hard the boat shakes. to his surprise, there really is a siren in the waters, warm and calm and so unlike the choppy, freezing waters of their home. "where did you get that fruit?"

"what?" leona rasps before clearing his throat. "what fruit?"

"the one that made the crinkling noise." the siren says simply, eyes staring holes into his as they gesture for the wrapper of the protein bar. "i want one of those fruits."

"it's... a fuckin' protein bar," leona supplies uselessly as the siren tilts their head slightly in confusion. "it's a long chocolate eaten when... you need energy."

"oh. i would like one, if you have one to offer." leona stares at the siren before sighing and pulling out another protein bar, opening it before handing it to the siren, who stares at it before taking a nibble. "it is disgusting. how does this offer energy?" leona tries and fails to stiffle a chuckle that eventually turns into a snort.

"is there something funny?"

"your palatte is completely different, ain't it? let go of the damn protein bar and chill. if you're here next week when i come back, i'll get you something that suits your tastes." after trading information with the leeches, of course.

the siren seems to ponder his offer before nodding and diving deep within the waters again without a goodbye, but leona's heart flutters anyway. he'll see them again.

tags: @fungifanart, @loser-jpg, @glidiaxoxo, @puowei, @vauxxnm @aivy-saur, @aprityormarj

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #leona twst #leona x reader #leona twisted wonderland

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dipperscavern · 5 months ago

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Can i request Robb Stark with reader who doesn’t like the cold/gets cold easily?

absolutely!! thank you sm for the ask <3

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

you’ve always hated the cold. ironic, considering you live in the north, but it’s true. the heat you can handle. sure, it’s annoying, but you can function. but when you’re cold, all you can think about is the last time you were warm.

the only times you’ll brave the cold are to go to the godswood (and pray for warmth), to hunt, and to ride. anything else can either wait until the sun makes its appearance, or can be done inside the warm halls of winterfell. those are your exceptions.

okay, well, when you said hunting — you meant by yourself. maybe theon. you did not mean the entire royal hunting party of winterfell.

your first response was to deny the invitation to the day-long affair of bracing the cold, but you’re the best archer in winterfell. they need you. and ned stark himself asked you to come, so here you were. trudging through the wolfswood, draped in furs & freezing your arse off.

“I can’t believe she’s doin’ it. Look at her..” theon murmurs to robb. robb nods, the corners of his lips tugging up in a smirk as he watches you.

you’re tightly wound, trying to conserve what little warmth you have. you practically radiate dislike, and theons got bets on how long you’ll last until you call upon the old gods to strike the entire forest down (midday). your horse doesn’t carry your disdain for the snow. having been bred for the cold, it dutifully marches on — allowing you to hug yourself tightly, conserving what little warmth you have.

robb’s brows pinch in sympathy knowing your misery, but he can’t help the silent thanks he gives to the gods for dragging you out here. to rectify that, he sends a silent prayer to ask that the stag that was spotted is caught quickly, so you can retreat back to the heated halls of winterfell. he’s not entirely selfish.

apparently the gods are not taking prayers today.

every time the scent is picked up or tracks are spotted, they’re lost just as easily. even greywind isn’t having any luck — but then again, he’s barely the size of a dog. even so, robb can see your resolve withering. he attempts to fix it, draping his outermost layered fur coat over you. you lightly shiver, sighing as you feel the extra layer work to trap more of your warmth.

“I owe you my life.”

“You’ll be alright. ‘S not too bad out ‘ere.”

his attempts at making the cold seem better than it actually is only result in you sending him a glare, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen such hatred. your conversation is interrupted by shouts, and the scent is picked up once more. they’ve spotted the animal running off, and ned orders for people to go around & enclose it.

you’re eager to get it over with and be done, ready to return to the fur blankets in your room. ready to be warm.

you tie your horse, getting off & trudging to where you guess it’ll be forced to go. most of everyone is focused on pushing it in this direction, and you can only hope there’s a weirwood around here to hear your prayers. you hear shouts, the hooves of horses, and something tearing through the trees. you raise your bow, notching an arrow & waiting.

“Atta girl!” ned says, arm wrapped around your shoulders.

the stag lays on the ground, dead, with an arrow in its skull. you offer a polite smile, but really, you’re just thanking the gods it’s done with. there’s snow in your boots, you’re shivering, your knuckles are red, and you can feel the cold in your bones. you saunter over to robb and theon, muttering under your breath.

“Curse the cold. Curse the cold. Curse the cold…”

theon snickers to himself, and you have half a mind to knock him off his horse. you’re feeling merciful, and instead choose peace. you untie your horse, eagerly starting the journey back to winterfell.

thanks to your arrow, everyone eats well that night, including you. the hall is warm, the atmosphere filled with laughter & your belly is full — a right reward for getting frostbite on your liver. you decide to retire to bed early, the days activities having you beat. robb walks you to your chambers, and you lean into his warmth. he’s always run hot, and he’s happy to share the body heat.

you arrive to the door, and turn to robb to say goodnight. you subconsciously chase his warmth, grabbing one of his hands & playing with it, feeling your cooler ones heat up from the contact.

“Y’did good today.”

you shrug. “Wasn’t horrible…” you’re lying. it was. robb knows it too.

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Still. Know you hate the cold.”

robb’s hand goes to your jaw, tilting it up as he kisses you. his lips are soft, and warm. he’s caught you off guard, and you can feel him smiling against your lips. once the kiss breaks, you both linger in each others presence. has he ever been so charming?

he’s out to prove you right when he leans in, kissing your temple & murmuring a soft “Night, pretty.”

he turns & walks down the hallway, knowing if he looks back he won’t be sleeping in his room. you watch him leave, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you open your door & step inside.

maybe you’ll have to brave the cold more often.

#game of thrones #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark prompt #robb stark imagine #robb stark x you #dippys asks #i hope this is alright #I’m not really sure where this specific scenario came from but hey!#we rocking w it #this is kinda short I’m sorry #anyways #WHO NEEDS TO GIVE HIM CHILDREN??#DING DING DING #RIGHT HERE OFFICER 🙋‍♀️

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thekenobee · 2 months ago

Text

I watched THE ROYAL HUNT OF THE SUN and boy HOW I EVEN DESCRIBE THIS PHENOMENON

Look at him

The sluttiest Plummer my eyes have seen

GUYS.

PLEASE

JUST

LOOK AT HIM

And THIS FUCKING BUTT SHOT

Believe me or not, he was just DANCIN here

JuSt

DANCING

#no words no thoughts just desires #this film #I BEG WATCH #YOU’Ll THANK ME later #slutty slutty #christopher plummer #old hollywood #HOW DO I TAG THIS #film #oldhollywoodedit #The Royal Hunt of The Sun #The sound of music #Waterloo 1970

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lttawnymadison · 7 months ago

Text

TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hob #heaven official's blessing #mxtx #mo xiang tong xiu #天官赐福 #tgcf revised version #The Tawny Vault

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novaursa · 12 days ago

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Flames in the West (his rock)

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: for better or worse

- Next part: a sad lion

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

The morning sun spilled into the dining hall of Casterly Rock, the long table laden stood with platters of freshly baked bread, steaming porridge, and roasted meats. The Lannister family was gathered for breakfast, their voices mingling with the clinking of silverware and the occasional roar of a lion from the distant menagerie.

You sat near the head of the table beside Jason, who seemed in an annoyingly cheerful mood as he slathered butter onto a thick slice of bread. The rest of the Lannisters present—a mix of cousins and distant relatives—watched the two of you with thinly veiled interest, as they often did. Your verbal sparring had become something of a morning ritual, one they all thoroughly enjoyed.

Jason leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied grin on his face as he addressed you. “I must say, my lady, you’ve taken to life at the Rock quite well. I was worried you’d miss the dragons too much.”

You didn’t bother looking up from your plate, slicing into a piece of fruit with deliberate precision. “And I must say, my lord, you’ve taken to bothering me every morning with great enthusiasm. I was worried you’d grow tired of it by now.”

The cousins chuckled softly, their eyes darting between the two of you like spectators at a tourney.

Jason smirked, unbothered. “How could I possibly grow tired of such stimulating conversation? Besides, you brighten my mornings, even when you’re sharpening your tongue.”

You finally glanced at him, arching an elegant brow. “Perhaps I’ll sharpen it further—on your ego. There’s certainly enough material to work with.”

The table erupted into laughter, and Jason placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “You wound me, my lady. But don’t worry, I’ve grown accustomed to your fiery nature.”

You set your fork down with a faint smirk, tilting your head slightly as though considering your next words. “Then you should find this quite tolerable as well.”

Jason leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Calmly, you reached for your goblet of juice, taking a sip before replying with deliberate nonchalance. “I’m with child.”

The room fell into absolute silence, save for the distant roar of a lion echoing through the corridors. Jason blinked, his grin frozen in place as his brain worked to process the words.

“What?” he finally managed, his voice somewhere between a gasp and a squeak.

You turned to him, your expression perfectly serene. “You heard me. I’m with child.”

Jason’s goblet slipped from his hand, clattering onto the table and spilling wine across the polished wood. He didn’t seem to notice as he stared at you, his eyes wide. “You’re… we’re… a child?”

“Yes,” you replied, as if discussing the weather. “Your hearing is intact. Congratulations.”

The table, which had been silent moments ago, erupted into chaos. Lannister cousins began talking all at once, offering congratulations and exclamations of surprise. One of the younger cousins nearly knocked over a platter of bread in her excitement, while an older aunt dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, declaring, “Another Lannister to carry the line!”

Jason, however, was still frozen, his gaze fixed on you. “When… how…?” he stammered.

You gave him a pointed look. “Do I really need to explain how, Jason?”

This earned another round of laughter from the table, though Jason didn’t seem to notice. Slowly, a grin began to spread across his face, wider and brighter than you’d ever seen. “I’m going to be a father?” he asked, as if needing confirmation.

“Yes, Jason,” you said with a sigh, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You’re going to be a father.”

Jason shot to his feet, nearly toppling his chair in the process. “I’m going to be a father!” he declared, his voice booming through the hall.

“We heard!” one of the cousins called, laughing.

Jason ignored them, rounding the table to pull you to your feet. “This is incredible!” he said, his hands on your shoulders as he beamed at you. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You arched a brow. “I wanted to see your reaction. It didn’t disappoint.”

Jason laughed, pulling you into a tight embrace before turning to the rest of the table. “A toast!” he shouted, grabbing the nearest goblet and raising it high. “To my wife, the most extraordinary woman in all of Westeros, and to the future of House Lannister!”

The table erupted into cheers, goblets raised as laughter and congratulations filled the hall.

As Jason turned back to you, his face alight with joy, you couldn’t help but smile, though you tried to hide it. “You’re entirely too pleased with yourself,” you muttered.

Jason grinned, leaning in closer. “Of course I am. I married a dragon, and now we’re bringing a little lion-dragon into the world. What more could I ask for?”

You shook your head, unable to suppress your amusement. “I’ll hold you to that enthusiasm when the child arrives.”

Jason laughed, his arm around your waist as he led you back to your seat, the table still abuzz with excitement. For once, you decided to let him bask in the moment—after all, it wasn’t every day a lion learned he was about to become a father.

The sun shone brightly over Casterly Rock as you strode confidently through the courtyard toward the cliffside where Sylveris, your majestic she-dragon, waited. Her silver scales shimmered like molten metal under the light, and she let out a low rumble of anticipation as she saw you approach. The sea breeze tugged at your cloak, but you paid it no mind, your focus entirely on the thrill of the ride ahead.

Trailing behind you was a gaggle of noble ladies—most of them Jason’s Lannister kin—fluttering like a flock of golden-haired sparrows. Their voices overlapped as they tried to dissuade you, their concern genuine but, to your ears, grating.

“Are you sure this is wise, my lady?” one of them asked, wringing her hands. “In your condition, no less!”

“Surely the dragon can wait a few moons,” another chimed in, her tone imploring. “What if something were to happen?”

You stopped abruptly, turning to face them with a calm but firm expression. “Ladies, I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been riding Sylveris since I was a child. She is no danger to me, nor am I to her.”

“But—” one began, only to be cut off by the sound of Jason’s boots echoing on the stone as he approached at a brisk pace.

“Ladies,” Jason said, his voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. He offered them his most charming smile, though his eyes were fixed on you. “Might I have a word with my wife?”

The ladies exchanged knowing glances, curtsied, and began to retreat, though one lingered long enough to whisper, “Keep her safe, my lord.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jason turned to you, his golden eyes filled with a mixture of exasperation and concern. “You’re really going to do this?”

You tilted your head, crossing your arms. “Do what, Jason? Ride my dragon? Yes, that is precisely what I’m about to do.”

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, you’re with child. Surely you understand why that might make me… uneasy.”

“Uneasy?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re acting as though I’m marching into battle. It’s a short ride.”

“To you, maybe,” Jason retorted, his voice rising slightly. “To me, it’s strapping my wife—and my unborn child—onto the back of a fire-breathing beast and hoping for the best!”

Sylveris let out a low growl, her golden eyes narrowing as though she understood the conversation. You glanced over your shoulder at her and smirked. “She doesn’t appreciate being called a ‘beast.’”

Jason groaned, his hands on his hips. “You know what I mean.”

You stepped closer, your tone softening slightly. “Jason, I’ve been riding Sylveris longer than I’ve known you. She’s as much a part of me as this child is. I’m not going to stop now.”

Jason hesitated, his concern warring with his respect for your independence. Finally, he said, “Fine. But if you insist on going, I’m coming with you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “You? On dragonback?”

Jason crossed his arms, meeting your gaze with unwavering determination. “Yes, me. If you won’t listen to reason, then I’ll make sure you’re safe myself.”

A slow smile spread across your face, and you gestured toward Sylveris. “Very well, my lord. If you’re so worried, climb aboard.”

Jason’s confidence faltered slightly as he glanced at the enormous dragon, who was now watching him with what could only be described as amused disdain. “I… I didn’t mean right now.”

“Oh, no,” you said, your tone laced with amusement. “You’re coming. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Sylveris.”

Jason’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he straightened, attempting to summon his usual bravado. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

With your help (and some reluctant assistance from Sylveris herself), Jason managed to climb onto the dragon’s back, his knuckles white as he gripped the saddle. You settled in front of him, your posture relaxed, as Sylveris spread her wings.

“Relax, Jason,” you said over your shoulder, grinning. “She’s not going to drop you.”

“That’s incredibly reassuring,” Jason muttered, his voice tight. “You realize this is my first—and possibly last—time on dragonback, yes?”

Sylveris let out a huff, and you patted her neck affectionately. “She’ll take care of you.”

As the dragon launched into the air, Jason let out an undignified yelp, his arms tightening around your waist. The wind whipped past, the ground falling away as Sylveris soared higher.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your voice carried on the breeze. “Still uneasy?”

Jason’s response was muffled, his face buried in your shoulder. “Let’s just say I have a newfound respect for you—and her.”

Sylveris glided smoothly over the cliffs, her wings casting long shadows over the water below. Despite his initial panic, Jason began to relax—slightly. By the time Sylveris circled back toward the landing point, he even managed to loosen his grip.

As the dragon touched down gracefully, Jason all but stumbled off, his legs shaky but his pride intact. “Well,” he said, brushing himself off. “That was… invigorating.”

You slid off Sylveris with practiced ease, patting her flank before turning to Jason. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Jason sighed, shaking his head with a mixture of exasperation and admiration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You smiled, threading your arm through his. “And yet, you married me.”

As you walked back toward the castle, Sylveris let out a low, rumbling laugh that seemed to echo Jason’s sentiment: You’ll never tame her.

The morning at Casterly Rock began like any other: the sun rose over the cliffs, casting its light across the sprawling fortress, the servants bustled to prepare for the day, and the sound of lions echoed faintly in the distance. But Jason Lannister had no interest in the usual affairs of the day. He had a singular mission—to win a few stolen, private moments with you before his impending departure for a meeting of the Westerlands’ bannermen in Lannisport.

As you sat in the dining hall, enjoying a quiet breakfast with the household, Jason entered with a flourish. His doublet, embroidered with golden lions, was particularly well-fitted today, and he wore a grin that suggested mischief.

“Good morning, my lady,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of your head before taking the seat beside you. “You look radiant this morning.”

You didn’t even glance up from your plate. “What do you want, Jason?”

“Only to bask in your presence,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening. “Is that so terrible?”

From across the table, one of Jason’s younger cousins snickered, whispering something to her sister. Jason shot them a mock glare before turning his attention back to you.

“I’ll be leaving for Lannisport soon,” he said, his tone turning just a touch softer. “I thought perhaps we might spend some time together before I go.”

You arched an eyebrow, finally looking at him. “You’ll only be gone a few days, Jason. I think I’ll manage.”

Jason placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me, my love. Surely you’ll miss me.”

The table erupted in quiet laughter, and you sighed, setting down your fork. “I’m sure I’ll find something to occupy my time.”

“Something?” Jason repeated, leaning closer. “Surely you mean someone.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Sylveris doesn’t count, Jason.”

Jason chuckled, undeterred. “Still, she’s no match for me.”

Later that morning, you strolled through the gardens, the scent of roses filling the air. Jason had caught up to you within moments, his footsteps crunching on the gravel path as he fell into step beside you.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he remarked, hands clasped behind his back as he matched your pace.

“It was,” you replied dryly. “Until I realized I couldn’t enjoy it alone.”

Jason laughed, his golden eyes sparkling. “You wound me again, Y/N. I simply wanted to admire the roses with my wife.”

You stopped, turning to face him. “Jason, what are you up to?”

“Up to?” he echoed innocently. “Can’t a man enjoy the company of his beautiful wife without ulterior motives?”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “No.”

Jason grinned, clearly amused. “Alright, fine. I admit it. I’d rather not leave for Lannisport without spending some… quality time with you.”

The emphasis on “quality time” wasn’t lost on you, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet, you married me,” Jason countered, mirroring your own statement for the other day, his grin widening.

By midday, you’d retreated to the castle’s library, hoping for a few moments of peace. But Jason found you there, of course. He didn’t enter the library, though—he simply waited for you to leave. As soon as you stepped into the hallway, he was there, leaning casually against the wall.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his tone light.

You sighed, brushing past him. “Jason, if you don’t have anything important to say—”

He followed, his long strides easily matching yours. “I just wanted to let you know how much I’ll miss you.”

“You’ve mentioned that,” you replied without slowing down.

Jason stepped in front of you, stopping your progress. “But have I shown you?”

You crossed your arms, tilting your head. “Is this leading somewhere, or are you planning to serenade me in the hallway?”

Jason grinned, stepping closer. “Only if you insist.”

The final straw came during supper, when Jason, seated beside you at the high table, made no secret of his attentions. He leaned close, brushing his fingers against yours as he reached for his goblet, and complimented you endlessly, each remark more extravagant than the last.

“I swear, the stars themselves dim beside you,” he said, his tone so sincere it was almost convincing.

“Jason,” you said, setting down your fork, “if you think flattery will work, you’re mistaken.”

“Who said I’m trying to flatter you?” he asked, a grin tugging at his lips. “I’m merely stating facts.”

One of his cousins coughed into her hand, clearly stifling laughter, while another whispered something to the person beside her. Even the servants seemed to exchange amused glances.

Finally, you leaned closer, your voice low. “If I agree to give you this ‘quality time,’ will you stop making a spectacle of yourself?”

Jason’s grin widened. “Absolutely.”

You sighed, rising from your seat. “Then let’s get this over with.”

As you left the hall, Jason followed eagerly, his cousins and the rest of the household breaking into open laughter as the doors closed behind you.

“Do you think he realizes she’s playing him?” one cousin asked, shaking her head.

“Not at all,” another replied, laughing. “But I think he’d follow her into the lion’s den if she asked him to.”

Lannisport buzzed with its usual energy: merchants peddling their wares in the bustling market square, the clang of hammers in the shipyards, and the faint scent of salt carried on the sea breeze. It was a city alive with wealth and activity, yet Jason Lannister found little joy in it. He sat in the hall of one of the grand Lannister manors overlooking the port, swirling a goblet of wine and staring into the distance as though it might offer some distraction.

Across the table, his cousin Martyn Lannister—known for his quick wit and even quicker mouth—watched him with barely concealed amusement. Martyn had been roped into accompanying Jason on this trip to oversee trade agreements and ensure the bannermen remained loyal to the Lannister cause. While he enjoyed the relative freedom of Lannisport, he found Jason’s current mood far more entertaining.

“You’ve been brooding all day,” Martyn said, leaning back in his chair. “What’s the matter? Did the merchants raise their tariffs again, or did you discover your wine isn’t from the best vintage?”

Jason sighed dramatically, setting his goblet down with more force than necessary. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Martyn pressed, his grin widening. “You’ve been sulking since we arrived.”

Jason hesitated, running a hand through his golden hair. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely something,” Martyn said, leaning forward with mock seriousness. “Come now, cousin, unburden yourself. I’m all ears.”

Jason groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Fine. If you must know… I miss my wife.”

Martyn blinked, then burst into laughter. “That’s it? You’re moping because you miss your dragon princess?”

“Yes!” Jason snapped, though his tone lacked any real bite. “It’s not just that I miss her presence. It’s… well, it’s everything.”

Martyn raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Everything?”

Jason waved a hand vaguely, his frustration evident. “Nobody insults me here. Not once since we arrived has anyone called me a ‘preening golden peacock’ or implied that I’m a fool.”

Martyn tilted his head, his grin turning wicked. “I could insult you if it would help. I’m very good at it.”

Jason shot him a glare. “It’s not the same.”

Martyn held up a finger, as if to stop Jason from ruining his fun. “No, no, let me try. Ahem—Jason, your hair looks like it was combed by a drunken stable boy.”

Jason groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not even clever, Martyn.”

“Oh, I can do better,” Martyn said, clearly enjoying himself. “Your doublet makes you look like a gilded goose, and you strut like one too.”

Jason leveled him with a flat look. “Still not the same.”

“Fine,” Martyn said, tapping his chin as though deep in thought. “How about this? You’re so infatuated with your wife that even the merchants can smell your desperation from across the harbor.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “That’s closer, but it’s still missing something.”

“Missing something?” Martyn repeated, laughing. “I’m giving you my best material here, and you’re still whining.”

Jason groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Because it’s not about the insults themselves. It’s about her. The way she says them, with that infuriating smirk and that glint in her eye. She makes it… entertaining.”

Martyn stared at him for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Seven hells, you’re whipped.”

Jason sat up straighter, pointing a finger at his cousin. “I am not whipped.”

Martyn held up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course not. You’re merely sitting here pining for your wife’s insults like a lovesick troubadour.”

Jason picked up his goblet, muttering under his breath as he took a long drink. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Martyn said, his tone laced with amusement. “You’re a lion who’s lost his dragon, and now you’re sulking because nobody else has the courage—or the wit—to put you in your place.”

Jason sighed, setting his goblet down with a faint clink. “That about sums it up.”

Martyn laughed again, shaking his head. “Well, enjoy your misery, cousin. Personally, I find this whole situation delightful.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite his mood. “I’ll remember this the next time you need my help, Martyn.”

Martyn raised his own goblet in a mock toast. “To dragons, insults, and lovesick lions.”

Jason shook his head but couldn’t suppress the small chuckle that escaped him. Even in Lannisport, far from your biting wit, you still managed to be the center of his world—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The gates of Casterly Rock creaked open to welcome Jason Lannister and his men back from Lannisport. The courtyard bustled with activity as servants scurried to take horses, unload supplies, and prepare for the evening’s feast. At the center of it all stood you, resplendent in a deep crimson gown adorned with golden embroidery. Beside you stood a gathering of Lannister kin, all eager to witness the return of their lord—though more for the spectacle than any genuine excitement.

You held yourself with regal composure, as was expected of a Lady Lannister, though your expression betrayed the faintest glimmer of impatience. The journey to Lannisport had only taken a few days, and yet Jason had insisted on an elaborate sendoff and an equally dramatic welcome.

The sound of hooves echoed through the courtyard as Jason rode in at the head of his retinue, his golden hair catching the light like a halo. He looked every bit the proud lord, his attire impeccably tailored and his grin as wide as the Sunset Sea. As soon as his eyes landed on you, however, his composure faltered, and he dismounted with all the grace of a man in a hurry.

“Y/N!” he called, striding toward you with alarming enthusiasm.

You arched an eyebrow, waiting until he was closer before replying. “Jason.”

Jason reached you in a few long strides, taking your hands in his and glancing down at you with exaggerated concern. “How is the child? Are you well? Did anything happen while I was gone?”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “Jason, you’ve been gone for four days. Did you expect the child to grow a foot in that time?”

Behind you, a muffled snicker came from one of the cousins, but Jason was undeterred. “You’re avoiding the question. Are you well?”

You sighed, extricating your hands from his. “I’m perfectly fine. And so is the child, though I assure you, nothing has changed since you left.”

Jason tilted his head, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Are you sure? You’re glowing.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms. “I’m glowing because I’ve been standing in this courtyard for an hour waiting for you to arrive.”

Jason laughed, clearly delighted by your irritation. “Ah, how I’ve missed you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” you quipped, though there was a faint smile on your lips.

The crowd of onlookers, which included several Lannister cousins and household retainers, watched the exchange with thinly veiled amusement. Martyn, who had accompanied Jason back, leaned toward a nearby cousin and whispered, “I give it two minutes before she completely disarms him.”

Jason stepped closer, lowering his voice but still loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You know, I’ve spent the past four days thinking of you.”

“Thinking of me?” you repeated, your tone skeptical. “Or thinking of what you’d say to annoy me when you returned?”

“Both,” Jason admitted with a grin. “And I must say, I’ve done an excellent job so far.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

Jason leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “That’s why you love me.”

Before you could reply, he turned to the gathered household, addressing them with his usual flair. “It’s good to be home! My thanks to everyone who made this welcome possible. And now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe my wife and I have some… catching up to do.”

The crowd erupted into laughter, and you felt your cheeks flush as Jason took your arm and began leading you toward the castle.

“Jason!” you hissed, pulling your arm back. “Must you make a spectacle of everything?”

“Of course,” Jason said cheerfully, steering you toward the nearest staircase. “Where’s the fun in being a lion if you can’t roar?”

You groaned, though you didn’t resist as he guided you up the stairs, the sound of laughter and murmured commentary following you. Behind you, Martyn called out, “Don’t let her sharpen her tongue too much, cousin! You might not survive the night!”

Jason waved a hand dismissively, his voice ringing with mock confidence. “If she does, I’ll die a happy man!”

As you disappeared into the castle, the courtyard erupted into another round of laughter, the household already looking forward to the next chapter in the saga of the lion and his dragon.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd jason #jason lannister #jason x reader #jason x you #jason x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #flames in the west

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regal-bones · 1 year ago

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SWORDTEMBER DAY 9 : ROYAL HUNT LEADER

Boarsbane, of painted steel and forgotten bone 🐗🌅

“We thank the wilds for their gift. For their shelter, their tools, their bones, and hide.

We thank the wilds for their mercy, for their kindness. We remember that we are just guests, we remember that we are but meat, fresh on the bone.

And when it is time, we offer ourself to them, that they might feast, and we might join them. Watching from the tree line, and feeling the sun filter through the thick canopy.”

🐖🐖🐖 pig blade 🐖🐖🐖

Yesterday’s sword!

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me make stuff like this!

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 4 months ago

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FANFIC POLL TIME!

Descriptions (because i NEED to explain things haha-):

CHOOSE WISELY

Of Bridges Built & Burned: Based off this clowning between me and @moodyseal

BUCKLE UP THIS GETS WILD READ THE LINK ABOVE FOR A MORE DETAILED EXPLANATION

TD;LR- Commodus and Apollo get to both scream about their relationship (because it's usually only Commodus who does that), Commodus goes off to sulk/stew over it while Apollo completes his trials, then post-ToA they meet again and have a Much Needed Talk

...and *sobs* go separate ways... *ugly sobbing* DON'T MIND ME-

you know you love the ship when you write them breaking up in the most heart-wrenching scenario possible.

but shh...i have another idea to do with this but that's for another time😈

The Art of War: I've been DYING to do SOMETHING with Apollo (Favorite Son™) and Ares (Failure Son™) and I have 3 whole scenes in different points of time now!!!

First is when Apollo's young and new on Olympus. He's been shoved onto Ares for the time being because in Ancient Greece, boys were raised by their fathers and girls by their mothers, and when the father was unavailable, it was the eldest brother's job to watch his younger brothers.

Second scene is during/post Ares's kidnapping by the giants! Some Apollo angst, Zeus being the best dad ever (not), and Ares not having a good time.

Third and finally, is a little conversation post-ToA between them :3

The Sun's Rise: At last! Out of the vault! The moment we've been waiting for! Starring our boy Apollo, Prometheus being Prometheus, and a guest star you all should know by now :3

Hyapollo Multific: YEAH YOU HEARD IT. FIVE CHAPTERS OF HYAPOLLO, WITH SIDE DISHES OF APRICITY, HYARICITY, AND ONE-SIDED ZEPHYRUS PINNING FOR HYAPOLLO. COME GET UR FLUFF-DRAMA-ANGST FEST

@hyac1nthus i know you'd want to see this >:3

Koios ToA: What the hell was Koios doing during ToA? This fic will play like a snapshot of what our favorite titan was up too. Questions will be asked, answers will be found, and oh boy Phoebe and Koios are gonna have a bit o' long-overdue marital strife.

Drunk Twins: literally what is says on the label. the twins get drunk and the Hunt has to call in the mama wolf for backup lmao

The Conspiracy of Rachel Elizabeth Dare: based on this post by @hogoflight and expanded upon here by me! Rachel Dare is a conundrum to her friends, and they put their detective hats on to solve the case!

ToA BuzzFeed Unsolved: The Queer Capers of Lester Papadopoulos and Meg McCaffrey: BUZZFEED TIME! We need ToA buzzfeed fics so here I am making one :3

Apollo V Orion fight (with a side-dish of Jupiter & Commodus): Exactly what it says on the label lmao I had three oneshot ideas and then I went "COMBINE THEM!!" so here is a oneshot with three different things in it making a cohesive story :3

A Radiant Light: Did I make up an entire backstory for one background character? Yes. Is that character Phoebe the Hunter? Also yes.

how to get your daughter to divorce your brother and marry your nephew: a guide by demeter: funny fic about Demeter trying to get Meg, Nico, and Will to help her convince Persephone to divorce Hades and marry Apollo. Based off one of my headcanons haha

👀 lookin' forward to a lot of these, hehe!

Tag list: @txny-dragon @solahflare @fuzzystudios @apollosothertwin @peishathebookity @reuben-7991 @allylyrac @the-summersun

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solxamber · 2 months ago

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Knights and Oaths - Leona Kingscholar x reader

You come from a long line of knights that have served the rulers of the Savannah. But sometimes traditions are meant to change and the second prince is looking like someone worth changing them for.

The sun hangs low in the sky, painting the Savannah in golden hues as you approach the ceremonial grounds. It’s been years leading up to this moment—years of training, discipline, and growing up side by side with royalty. Your mother serves Falena’s wife, and your father serves the king himself. By all accounts, it’s expected that you’ll follow suit and dedicate your knightly oath to Cheka, the five-year-old prince. That’s just how it’s always been—loyalty passed down through the generations, swearing fealty to the rightful heirs of the Sunset Savannah.

But you’ve never been one for following expectations.

Not when you’ve spent your childhood in the shadow of two princes, one of them your closest companion and sometimes, greatest annoyance. Leona Kingscholar—second prince of the Sunset Savannah, the man who always seemed just a step away from what he could have been. Too lazy to reach it. Too proud to admit it.

When you were kids, Leona’s idea of "training" usually involved you chasing him around, trying to get him to spar when he’d much rather nap beneath the acacia trees. "What’s the point?" he’d grumble, arms folded behind his head, the sun casting dappled shadows across his face. "No matter how hard I try, Falena's the one everyone cares about."

Yet somehow, despite his best efforts to seem indifferent, you always found yourself drawn into his orbit. There was something about Leona that you couldn’t ignore—a pull, a desire to prove himself despite his constant veneer of nonchalance. You saw him in a way others didn’t. And maybe, somewhere along the way, he saw you too.

That’s why today feels different. Your whole life, everyone assumed your path was already written. You’d swear your oath to Cheka, Falena’s son, just as your parents had sworn theirs to Falena and his wife. It was expected, anticipated. But they didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know about you and Leona, the time spent laughing, bickering, and—more often than not—arguing over ridiculous things like who could run faster or who could climb the tallest tree.

Now here you are, stepping into the hunting grounds, your sword at your side, ready to make your choice.

The hunt is a time-honored tradition. Whoever brings back the most impressive game gets to make their dedication. You can almost hear the whispers as you prepare—"Cheka’s knight," they call you. It’s been assumed for years. But they don’t know what’s coming.

The ceremony itself is simple enough. Each knight pledges their loyalty by dedicating their game to the person they swear to serve. It’s a public declaration of fealty, one made before the entire royal court. But there’s more at stake than just loyalty. The knight who brings back the most impressive game is awarded a golden rose—a symbol of something far deeper than duty.

Love.

Hours later, when you emerge from the hunt with the largest bear the kingdom has seen in years, all eyes are on you. The whispers grow louder, anticipation thick in the air. Everyone knows you’ve won the rose, and with it, the right to swear your loyalty. They’re expecting you to kneel before Cheka, the adorable five-year-old prince bouncing with excitement. Even Leona’s lounging nearby, watching the whole affair with that bored, half-lidded gaze of his, looking as if he might fall asleep at any moment.

But you? You have different plans.

With the golden rose in hand and your bear presented, you walk right past Cheka—past the gasps of the court, the murmurs of confusion, the stunned faces of your parents. And you kneel before Leona.

Leona’s eyes snap open, and for the first time in ages, he looks genuinely surprised. His eyebrows raise, just the barest fraction. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You grin, because of course he’s trying to play it off like this doesn’t matter. "Swearing my fealty, obviously," you say, loud enough for the court to hear. "I dedicate this hunt and the rose to Prince Leona Kingscholar."

The silence that follows is deafening. You can practically feel the jaws dropping across the Savannah. Even little Cheka’s mouth forms a perfect little "o" of shock.

For the first time all day, Leona stirs, the mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to catch the flicker of something beneath it—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. His eyes meet yours, sharper and more intense than ever, and for a moment, the world falls away.

Leona’s eyes narrow, a mixture of suspicion and amusement flickering across his face. "I thought you’d be on your knees for someone else," he drawls, his lips quirking up at the corners.

You shrug. "Everyone else may have decided my fate, but I make my own choices."

“For you, Leona,” you repeat, your voice steady and loud despite the pounding in your chest. “I dedicate my loyalty to you, and this rose... to the one who has always held my heart.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his expression unreadable. It’s Leona, after all. He doesn’t do grand gestures, never needed to. But you notice the way his fingers twitch, like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and take the rose immediately. When he finally speaks again, his voice is low, a bit rough around the edges, but there’s an unmistakable thread of satisfaction laced through it.

“You really know how to cause a scene, huh?”

There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, and his gaze flicks down to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. “A bear and a rose... For me?”

The teasing tone doesn’t hide the way his chest seems to expand just a little bit, like someone had finally acknowledged him for the first time in years. He reaches out and takes the rose from your hand, his fingers brushing yours in the briefest of touches. It feels electric, like every unspoken word between you is packed into that fleeting moment.

He twirls the rose once between his fingers, his smirk growing. “Guess I should thank you,” he says casually, though there’s a weight to his words, something you’ve rarely heard from him—appreciation. Real and tangible.

Leona stands up slowly, stretching as though this whole event is just another inconvenience, though the pride in his stance is unmistakable. He knows exactly what this means, both for you and for him. No one can dismiss him as just the second prince anymore, not after this. Not when someone like you, bound by honor and tradition, chose him. Over everyone else. Over Cheka. Over the kingdom’s expectations

He leans down, close enough that his breath is warm against your ear as he speaks softly, for you alone to hear. “I never thought you’d choose me. But I can’t say I’m not... pleased.”

Your heart does a strange, fluttering thing in your chest at his words, and you dare to meet his gaze, only to find a look there that you’ve never seen before. Something softer. Something real.

Before you can react, he tugs you in close, his arm settling around your waist in a way that feels both possessive and protective. The world narrows to just the two of you, the warmth of his body radiating through your armor. The smug grin he wears is softened by something deeper in his eyes—something that makes your heart skip a beat.

His hand lingers at your side, thumb brushing lightly against your hip, like he's claiming you just as much as you're dedicating yourself to him.

Before you can respond, he turns, still holding you close, and faces the crowd. The murmurs have turned to outright whispers of shock and disbelief, but Leona seems entirely unbothered by the spectacle you've made. In fact, he revels in it.

“This knight is mine,” he declares, his voice steady, ringing with finality. There’s no hesitation, no doubt—just that lazy confidence and a quiet triumph that says he’s more than pleased with your choice.

And in that moment, you know that, despite everything—his pride, his laziness, his gruff exterior—Leona Kingscholar is proud of you. Proud that you chose him, that you saw him, really saw him, when so many others didn’t. And as his arm tightens around you just a little, you can feel it too: the quiet, unspoken promise of what comes next.

A lifetime bound to the second prince—exactly the way you both want it.

Masterlist

he's so special to me :(((

#Leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #leona x you

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