#the sword held tightly in her hand is the invite

[all-lars-bars]

Thinking about Alice Human Sacrifice for the Markiplier Protags. See tags for infodump.

[zorosangell]

hiii! hope you’re doing good and I’d like to give in a suggestion, could you make a fic about gnreader being choppers mother figure and both zoro and reader are fighting for the parental role 😭😭

(they later on share it lol)

⛥ﾟ・。 endgame

synopsis: prequel to inn -- when chopper asks about your past, zoro reminisces on your history together... and is reminded of exactly what you are to him.

cw: THIS IS A PREQUEL TO INN, fluffly fluff, comfort, takes place pre-timeskip during alabasta, young reader is so cute, protective zoro, ZORO IS WHIPPED, i really loved writing this.

a/n: i really, really loved writing this

"Hey, Zoro!" Luffy called, eagerly. "Look over here! Look at what we're doing!"

"We're training!" Usopp added, clapping his hands together.

Begrudgingly, Zoro looked up from Chopper's fur, glancing toward the boys, who were standing under a huge stream of water like it was a ninja's waterfall.

"Real funny," he nodded, sarcastically, before returning to what he was doing.

After saving the kingdom of Alabasta, the king invited the crew to the royal bath, hoping to clean up after dinner.

The young doctor had asked for help washing his back, and the swordsman played it off as having nothing better to do.

But, in actuality... he enjoyed helping boy, feeling a sort of fatherly obligation toward him.

"Zoro?" Chopper piped up, quietly, eyes trained forward as the man went back to carefully scrubbing his fur.

"Yeah?" Zoro hummed. "What is it?"

"Do you know why (y/n) acts the way she does?"

Confused, Zoro raised a brow, unsure of what he was talking about.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... you know," the boy slightly stammered. "She's so nice... and kind... she cares for me so well even though I just joined the crew."

He looked down at himself, making sure to choose his words carefully.

"Even Doctorine didn't warm up to me this quick... but she treats me like she's known me all her life. And I figured since you two grew up together, you could tell me why."

'So, that's it...'

Zoro nodded, finally getting the picture.

"I see what you mean," he confirmed, moving on to the boy's shoulder. "(y/n)'s always been like that... even when we were kids. There's no rhyme or reason to it."

He glanced up, the memories rolling back like calm waves after a storm.

"She just... is."

"I thought I told you to stop following me! Cut it out!" a ten year-old Zoro exclaimed, glaring at you sharply.

"But... you're bleeding..." a nine year-old you reminded, worried, as you tightly clutched the handle of your first aid kit. "Kuina beat you up really bad this time."

"Shut up!" he barked. "I don't need your help! Or anyone else's! I'm gonna get stronger all on my own!"

You flinched at his tone, but held strong, despite the tears welling in your eyes.

"Well, you can't be the strongest if you can barely lift your arms!"

Zoro's eyes widened, surprised.

In your months of chasing him, attempting to patch him up, you had never raised your voice.

Not even once.

"I believe in you! And I wanna help you! So let's make a deal!"

Brows furrowed with determination, you pointed at him, firm in your disposition.

"Every night, I'll patch you up, and help you out with normal stuff, like food and clothes! And in return, you work your hardest to become the strong enough to beat Kuina! Sound fair?"

"No!" he scoffed, incredulously, and incredibly confused. "Why are you doing this?! You don't even know me! What do you get out of that?!"

"I get to watch you!" you grinned, jumping at the chance to gush. "You're so cool! And tough! I'm no good at sword-fighting, but you're amazing at it! I can tell you're gonna be a really great swordsman someday!"

Happily, you looked up at him, your starry eyes bringing a faint tinge of pink to the boy's cheeks.

"And I wanna be there to watch the whole thing!"

For a moment, Zoro paused to think, weighing his options before caving with a sigh, unable to say no to your hopeful smile.

"...Fine."

"YAY!"

Without hesitation, you pulled him into an embrace, overwhelmed with joy.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! No hugging!"

Zoro chuckled, moving the scrub brush to the young doctor's head.

You were the strangest, most persistent girl he had ever met... but the only one that believed in him from the very beginning.

Even if it was at your expense.

"What were you thinking?!" a twelve year-old Zoro scolded, haphazardly applying band-aids to all your cuts and bruises. "You know Haru and Kenzo are stronger than you. Why'd you try to fight them?"

An eleven year-old you sniffled, using the back of your hand to wipe away the stray tears rolling down your cheeks.

"They were making fun of you," you mumbled, looking down at your lap. "They said three-sword style was stupid, so I tried to punch them... but I missed and they ganged up on me."

"Did they, now?" Zoro glared, turning to the two boys next to him.

Quickly, he struck them both in the back of the head, giving them two giant welts and adding to their multitude of injuries.

"What do you two say to her?!"

"We'wre sowwy..."

Chopper lit up, relieved to her you had no ulterior motive in your kindness.

"(y/n)'s been this nice all her life? Wow! I wish I met her sooner! She sounds like a really great friend!"

Zoro nodded, fighting off the small smile threatening to rise to his lips.

"I was lucky to meet her when I did... her enthusiasm always gave me something to look forward to."

He sighed, dreamily reminiscing on the thought.

"Even when the future was unclear..."

"I can't believe it! We're actually leaving!" an eighteen year-old you squealed, watching the island of Shimotsuki get smaller and smaller as you clung to the mast of your small fishing boat. "This is so exciting!"

"I know," a nineteen year-old Zoro agreed, watching with an air of pride. "Feels like a new chapter. One step closer to becoming the strongest."

You nodded along, until you were suddenly hit with a thought, which forced you to sit down.

"But... I can't help but wonder," you started, glancing up at him. "Why'd you bring me along?"

He raised a brow, confused, and silently asking you to elaborate.

"You know I'm not very strong. Hell, I can barely throw a punch," you reminded. "I won't be much of a help..."

"All those years ago... didn't you say you wanted to watch me become the Greatest Swordsman in the world?" Zoro asked, rhetorically. "You can't do that cooped up in a dojo."

Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting such a straight-forward answer.

"I promised you I'd work hard to become the strongest. So you better believe you're getting a front row seat," he smirked, plopping himself down next to you, slightly rocking the boat. "You're stuck with me, (y/n). There's no backin' out now."

You replied with a chuckle, carefully resting your head on his shoulder, blissfully unaware of the flush on his cheeks.

"Thanks, Zo'."

He nodded, slowly and warily looping an arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief when you didn't move away.

"Don't mention it."

"Wow! I'm so happy!" Chopper cheered, jumping up from his seat. "I'm gonna go dry off and give her a big hug to say thank you for all the stuff she's done!"

Quickly, he turned to Zoro, his blinding smile warming the swordsman's heart—though he'd never admit it.

"Thanks for telling me Zoro!"

Without a word, Zoro nodded, and Chopper zoomed off back to the rooms, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

Glancing at the divider separating the men and women's bath, Zoro listened closely, tuning out Luffy and Usopp's roughhousing to see if he could hear you.

And he did.

From beyond the great wall flowed in your silvery laugh, the delightful sound hitting his ears like the world's greatest song.

Closing his eyes, the swordsman rested his arm on his knee, and his cheek in his palm, allowing himself to fully experience its beauty.

God, he was so in love with you...

Words couldn't even begin to express.

You were the most consistent thing in his life.

His personal nurse.

His number one supporter.

His best friend.

His childhood crush.

If he was being honest, he didn't know where would've ended up if it weren't for you, or the person he would've turned out to be.

You taught him the value of kindness and compassion at such a young age, and were never afraid to wear your heart on your cheek if it meant pushing him closer to his dream.

And you knew him so well.

He couldn't have found a better partner in crime if he'd searched for a thousand years.

Muscles relaxing, a small smile rose to his lips as your laugh floated into the air once again, accentuated by the occasional, adorable snort.

There was no one else in this world for him.

There would be no one else in this world for him.

You were absolutely, positively, without a doubt... his endgame.

[iwritelmao]

Shovel Talk?

(there’s one suitor left in the the palace, but he’s not there for the Queen of Ithaca)

Penelope had long since fallen asleep as Telemachus sat silently outside her door, not quite able to break the habit yet. Odysseus had crept out of the room as soon as his wife had fallen asleep despite his intense want to stay near her. Still, he had to make sure the palace had been cleansed of the suitors.

Suddenly he heard heavy breathing coming from Telemachus’s chambers. Telemachus’s chambers that were supposed to be empty. He tightly gripped his sword and threw the door open, watching as an unfamiliar young man stumbled back, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Are you a suitor?” Odysseus asked flatly, adjusting his hold on the sword.

“Yes,” the young man said. “But it’s not what you think, I’m not-”

“Stop.” He said. “What’s your name?”

The young man sputtered a bit before finally saying, “Nausicaas.”

“Nausicaas… you should have lied.”

“No…” Nausicaas took a few steps back as the king walked towards him with a raised sword. “No, it’s- it’s not what you think! I’m here for Telemachus!”

“You idiot…” Odysseus shook his head. “Did you see what happened to the rest of the suitors who tried to hurt my son?” He pressed the sword against the young man’s neck. “This is where it ends. With your death, my family is safe. Do you understand that?”

His eyes widened as he stared right into the king’s burning red eyes, alight. In what Nausicaas assumed would be his last moment, he squeezed his eyes shut and yelled, “Sir, I’m in love with your son!”

There was no pain, no sharpness of the blade, but the feeling of it against his neck didn’t leave. Nausicaas didn’t dare open his eyes.

“What?”

He opened one eye, catching sight of Odysseus’s confusion. “I am a suitor… for your son. I- I arrived here this morning to… to ask the Queen for her blessing to marry the prince… a-and now that you’re here I can, well… would it be okay if I proposed to your son?”

Odysseus stepped back, letting his sword fall to his side. He looked like he was sizing the young man up. “Where did you come from?”

“Sparta, sir. The Queen’s family in Sparta is close friends with my own.”

The king seemed to contemplate this for a moment. “You say you love my son?” Nausicaas nodded eagerly. It was almost endearing. “How much?”

The young man’s expression finally hardened into something a lot more Spartan than it had looked before. “I would end worlds for him, sir. I would renounce my name, my rank, my home—I would be of Ithaca only, Sparta be damned.” His eyes suddenly wandered to a spot over Odysseus’s shoulder, softening as a smile tugged his lips.

The king turned around to see his son in the doorway. “Telemachus.”

“Mother woke up,” he said, his voice distracted. “She had a fit when you weren’t next to her.”

Odysseus smiled, then turned back to look at Nausicaas. He held his arms out, warm and inviting, and enveloped the young man. “Thank you,” Nausicaas uttered, returning the hug as if it were a handshake, strong and unwavering.

“Be true.” Odysseus said, then lowered his voice. “And if you even think about hurting my family, I will dismember you and feed what’s left of you to what little sirens managed to escape my crew and I.” The boy tensed up in his arms and Odysseus smiled. “That is, if Penelope doesn’t get to you first.”

He felt the young man nod and let go, stepping back. The king stood in wait. Nausicaas’s lips formed a small “oh,” then walked past him to face Telemachus. “Telemachus, Prince of Ithaca…”

“Nausicaas,” the prince said, grabbing the young warrior’s hand and pulling him closer with a grin Odysseus recognized from his days trying his hardest to win Penelope’s attention. “Why so formal?”

A grin tugged at his lips. “Because this is important. I love you, Telemachus. I will always love you. If there is a life after this one, I will love you in that one too. Would you join me in declaring this love to the gods?"

Telemachus smiled and leaned forward to kiss Nausicass. "It only took you three years to ask."

"Is..." He said tentatively, "Is that a yes?"

Odysseus shook his head and made for the doorway, patting Nausicaas on the back before leaving. "Welcome to the family."

[nocasdatsgay]

Happiness is a Foreign Concept

Day 2: Legacy @erisweekofficial

Word Count: 1637 | Rating: T | Genre: Gen.

Characters: Eris, LOA, Male OC (Rowen), Elain, Lucien, Elain/Lucien’s children

Warnings: Contemplating the future, feelings of melancholy, talk of marriage and children | Read on AO3 | Masterlist 2024

Summary: Eris is feeling the pressures to marry and have an heir.

A/N: I fully admit I projected onto Eris in this. This fic about the struggle of uncertainty and the pressure to fit into expectations. Emotions are complex, and while a lot of people find peace quickly in choices they make, sometimes others don’t.

Gen Tag: @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @ninthcircleofprythian dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

The invitation laid in front of him on his desk unopened. Eris knew what it was at first glance. Elain’s famous loopy handwriting was on top, addressing the letter to him. Yet he couldn’t stomach the thought of opening it. It was no doubt another invitation to meet his new niece, Elain and Lucien’s third youngling but first girl. He should be happy for them. Instead he got up and poured himself a drink.

His whole life, all nearly seven hundred years of it, he told himself he was fine without a spouse, or a mate, or younglings. A spouse was a liability during his father’s reign. A mate was a death sentence. Younglings were out of the question. And his mother- he loved her dearly. But now with father gone and her newfound happiness in Day Court, she would not stop asking him if he had found someone. Or if, by luck, there was a babe on the way.

“I’m only asking because your brothers are so happy. I want that for you.”

He walked over to the window and nursed the glass of fire whiskey in his hand, shoving down his feelings. He was High Lord. He didn’t have time for romance. He was too busy fixing the wrongs of his father. His duty was to the court. And yet… He stared out into the jewel-toned leaves in the trees, his mind wandering. If his life had been different, if his father was kinder, would he have a spouse and younglings by now?

Melancholy settled in him and he shoved it down. He didn’t have time for ‘what ifs’. They only slowed him down though it didn’t help his mood. Later when he was sword fighting with Rowen, his mood had not changed. And it was showing. Rowen nicked his side, tearing his shirt. Eris stumbled and Rowen grabbed him by his arm.

“Are you ill or something? You never let me get that close to you,” his eyes dropped to the tear in Eris’s shirt.

“I’m fine.” He pulled his arm back. “Just having a hard time focusing.”

“Finally get yourself a lady friend?” Rowen grinned, his deep brown eyes looking his friend over and wiggling his brows.

“No,” Eris glared and he could feel the heat rise up in his body.

“Sorry,” Rowen threw his hands up. “I just haven’t seen you. Governors been talking and-“

“What did they say?” Eris held back his power enough to not command him, but his rage was increasing.

Rowen studied his friend again, frowning. “You’ve been High Lord now for a few decades. Things have settled. They talked like you were looking for a Lady.”

“Well I’m not.” Eris gripped his sword tightly.

“A Lord then?” Rowen asked softly.

Eris let out a growl. Eris had male and female lovers- a secret only Rowen knew as he was his look out for half of them. And while the governors would simply have to deal with it if he chose a male as his partner- it wasn’t the point.

“I’m not looking for anyone. Next time you hear talk, you tell me who it is and I will deal with them accordingly.” Rowen nodded, still eyeing him cautiously. Eris ignored the twist in his gut and put himself into a stance. “Let’s go again.”

A week later his mother came to the Forest house under the guise of spending tea time together. He should have known she only came to pester him. The moment she sat down she began to babble about Elain and Lucien’s newest youngling.

“Azalea is starting to crawl. Oh Eris, she’s so precious. First girl in a millenia. She reminds me of you when you were little. Curious about everything.” She looked off to the window, a whimsy glaze to her eyes. “The boys adore her. You should really come and-“

“I do not have time, mother.” Eris said sternly.

She was silent for a moment. “Surely High Lord duties are not so strenuous now. Unless you have other reasons-“

“Enough!” His mother froze and guilt washed over him. He sighed. “Mother. Please do not start with me.”

She finally exhaled heavily. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, mother.” Eris retorted, not looking at her.

“Are you?”

He truly didn’t know. Happiness was a foreign concept to someone who lived and breathed torment for centuries.

“I am.” A slight lie. “If this is about me not going to see Azalea, I will make plans this afternoon.”

He finally looked his mother in the eyes again. She knew he wasn’t being fully truthful, he could see it in the way she stared right through him.

“You should stay for dinner.” He added. “Piran is coming. Asher, Rowen, Claudia, and Celeste will also be there.”

His mother smiled. “I would enjoy that.”

Visiting the Day Court was always a tumultuous affair. Helion still gave him a weary look when he was present, despite having warmed up to him more over the decades. Thankfully it was his brother who greeted him, clad in his Day Court attire.

“I’ll never get used to seeing you in this.” Eris wrinkled his nose, looking his brother over. Day Court was always too simple for his tastes.

“Says the male buttoned up to his neck in this heat,” Lucien shot back. “Come meet the babe before I change my mind and send you home.”

On the way to their chambers, Lucien lamented that once Azalea was old enough, they would go back to the border of Spring and the Human Lands. Eris wrinkled his nose again but kept his mouth shut. He knew they stayed in Day so Elain could be close to her sisters and Lucien, to mother. He never understood their love of living so close to a land with no magic.

Eris’s expression softened once they entered the sitting area where Elain was holding up her new babe in her lap. She was already old enough to sit up without much help. Eris ignored the twinge of regret for waiting so long.

“Elain, beautiful as ever.” He walked up to her. “Motherhood has been much kinder to you than fatherhood has my brother.”

“Good to see you Eris,” Elain laughed and Eris could hear his brother grumbling behind him.

“You must be Azalea. Hello, sweet girl,” he crouched so he was eye level with the babe sitting in her mothers lap.

She was beautiful. Unlike her brothers, she inherited the Autumn red hair from Lucien. Her eyes were like her mother’s, wide and the color of a fawn. She was adorable in her little white floral dress. She grinned at him and when he smiled back, she waved her arms about.

“I think she likes you,” Elain said, watching her daughter.

“All babies love me. May I?” He stood and held out his hands questionably.

Elain didn’t hesitate to hand off Azalea. Eris ignored the ache in his heart as he took her, that momentary thought of how he didn’t have one of these to hold and cherish. He instead proceeded to coo at her and make her giggle. When the door opened, she squealed. He looked over to see two younglings rushing to him.

“Uncle Eris!” The two boys yelled in unison.

Eris braced himself and let them both run into him for a hug.

“Boys. My goodness you’ve gotten taller.”

The eldest, Andre, was at his waist before and now came up to his elbows. The middle boy, Apollo, was now up to his waist. He noted the boys' hair was lighter, more akin to the golden brown of their mothers than the darker locks they were born with originally.

“We want to show you the puzzles Aunt Nesta gave us.”

“I’ve got her,” Elain appeared behind him, taking the babe. She leaned in and whispered, “the boys have been looking forward to seeing you.”

He nodded. “Show me the way.”

With yells they dragged him out of the sitting room and into their rooms. Eris spent the rest of the afternoon putting together puzzles, play fighting, and Eris purposely letting Lucien win while fencing. Lucien finally took the boys to wash up and Eris was left to sit with Elain and Azalea in peace for a moment.

“She is beautiful, Elain.” He held Azalea in his lap, cooing at her and making her giggle. “She’s so happy.”

”She is a lot calmer than the boys were at that age. I fear once she starts crawling and walking, she will catch up to them.” Eris’s face must have faltered. “You seem troubled.”

Eris sighed heavily, gently adjusting the babe in his lap. “Mother is pestering me to marry and have younglings. Which is nothing new, but now the governors are talking. It’s just tiresome.”

Talking with Elain was always easy. He used to hate how loose his lips were around her but now it was a blessing. He didn’t have to mince words. She nodded.

“Is that what you want?”

”I don’t know.” He replied truthfully.

She hummed. “You can always take the boys if you get bored. I’m certain Azalea will also want to spend time with her uncle Eris when she’s older.”

“Thank you.”

The door opened and Apollo appeared around it. “Mama, papa said dinner is ready.”

“Tell him we are on our way.” Elain smiled and he disappeared back into the hall. She turned and took Azalea from Eris. “Happiness comes in all forms, Eris. Never feel like you have to fit into a mold.”

Eris laughed, a sour twinge in his tone. “My whole existence is nothing but fitting into a mold.”

“Then maybe,” She whispered as she stood. “You should break it and make your own.”

Eris gave her a soft smile. Maybe he should.

[brittle-doughie]

Imagine a y/n that was reincarnated 3 times, the first time into an ancient, the next a legendary, and finally a super epic. And it goes by the lyrics of alice of human sacrifice

Beast Y/n: "The first Alice was born in the woods of Beast Yeast, bravely with a fearsome sword held tightly in her hand."

"Slicing whatever lay in her unyielding Wrath, leaving chaos in her wake. A RED, BLOODY PATH."

"Then Alice strayed too far, lost within the woods. Giving into all her sin, LOCKING HER AWAY FOR GOOD."

"Much like the gruesome path that marked her evil ways, still her life remains a mystery to this very day."

Ancient Y/n: "Second Alice was a tame and tender gentleman. Singing songs to all the folks who lived in Beast Yeast."

"Every day, he'd sing away to all the girls and boys, one by one spreading EVIL slowly with his voice."

"Whenever he would sing, people gathered 'round. Madness took a hold of him, SHOT HIM DEAD TO THE GROUND."

"Blood stained the roses to a bright and somber red, once loved and enjoyed by all the man was left for DEAD."

Legendary Y/n: "The third Alice was a lovely girl from Beast Yeast. Beautiful, the girl was born into a life so grand"

"She charmed all the people to her every beck and call, then she birthed a kingdom that would rise above them all."

"This Alice was then crowned, turned into a queen. Ruling all the people here, lost within a crazy dream."

"So afraid of death, the girl was MINDLESS and WARPED. Once a gorgeous ruler, now she’s just an ugly corpse."

Super epic Y/n and S/o: "Find the bright forest path, That’s where the journey starts. A tea party with blue roses, That’s where the forest parts."

"The invite from the Queen, It actually was. The trump card, The Ace of Hearts."

"The fourth Alice was a young pair of cookies who were lovers. Straying into Beast Yeast, is where their tale begins."

"Wandering across the world, they passed through many doors. Curious of this new place, they traveled and explored."

"The stubborn older Y/n, The clever younger S/o. Were close to see the nature of the true Alice at hand."

"Both will never wake up from the dream that they had planned. Forever they’ll wander hopelessly in Beast Yeast."

Not really familiar with the lyrics, but it does look like it’s built up to have this take of Y/N be quite the cookie to go through these cycles.

[lady-of-tearshed]

Scarred

Nessian & OC!Nessian daughter Briana

Cassian Week 2024

@cassianappreciationweek

Day 5: Scars

Summary: Cassian's traumas comes back to haunt him when their daughter naively wishes for a real war, like the ones in her books.

Warnings: Angst, Pregnancy, PTSD/Panic attack description, Cassian raising his voice, flinching, mention of an explosion, mention of death, mention of war.

Word count: 1,687k words

A/N: Good luck with the angst. The lady of tearshed has striked again, hope your heart can bear this one! 💕 Love y'all! Xx

The pretty dividers are made by the very talented @tsunami-of-tears ❤️

The sun was starting to set, but the laughter and excited shrieks of children were still roaring at the River House. They were all playing with the wooden swords Rhysand had gifted Nyx for his tenth birthday. 

Briana, despite being the youngest one of her cousins, was ferociously defending herself. But Cassian knew her bed time was coming, and that if he didn't put a stop to their game real soon, his little princess would be in a piss poor mood all day tomorrow morning. And with Nesta carrying their second child, he didn't want her to deal with Bri's grumpiness tomorrow. His pregnant mate didn't need that additional stress. 

He whistled, loudly, and Briana's eyes immediately shot to his direction, a broad smile spread across her face as she ran into his direction. Cassian opened his arms for her and she jumped into them, nuzzling her little nose against his. 

“Did my little princess have fun today?” Cassian said, kissing her forehead. 

“Yeah! I want the same gift as Nyx's for my birthday!” 

Cassian laughed. Typical Briana's answer, always wanting to be the same as her older cousin. “Your birthday is still ten months away, Bri. Don’t grow up too fast.” He chuckled. 

Nesta approached them, and Cassian slid a protective hand around her hip. His fingers stroked the side of Nesta’s still small baby bump, and bent down. “Hi you two…” He whispered in Nesta’s ear, before kissing her cheek. “Ready to go?” 

“Yes.”

“No!”

Nesta gave the pair of eyes that meant “Don't you dare throw a tantrum just now, please.” to her daughter, then sighed. “Princess… Baby and mommy are very tired. How about we invite Nyx at home tomorrow?” 

Briana huffed, looked at Nesta’s belly, hesitated. “Okay… I'll go say bye to Nyxie, Bastian, Emett and Poppy…” She mumbled, then hopped off Cassian's arms to run to her cousins, aunts, and uncles to tell them goodbye. Lingering and taking her time, obviously. 

Cassian held Nesta against her, watching their beautiful daughter chattering with their family, before turning his gaze to Nesta's. “How are you feeling?” He frowned, his Fae male instincts kicking in, telling him to check up on his pregnant mate. 

Nesta rolled her eyes, a playful glint shining in her eyes. “Pregnant, sweaty, and full with your child… Not much different than six years ago.” 

Nesta winked at him, and  Cassian's hrin grew even wider. Before he could get another taste of his mate's delicious lips, Briana ran in their direction, wiggling in their embrace. 

“I'm ready!” Briana proudly announced. 

Cassian was drained, exhausted. The three of them were tightly squeezed into Briana's “big girl bed”. Nesta was reading out loud a bedtime story about princesses, princes and soldiers fighting against cruel Nagas. 

His calloused fingers were brushing through his daughter's dark curls, careful not to get tangled in any knots. He was starting to wonder which one of them would fall asleep first. 

Nesta closed the book shut when the story ended, and Cassian's eyes shot open. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and yawned. “Alright… It's time to sleep now princess…” He mumbled into Briana's hair, pampering her cheek with kisses. 

Cassian helped Nesta roll out of the bed, then softly tucked in Briana, just how she liked it, he even placed her favorite plushies to watch over her. 

“I wish there would be a real war going on…” Briana mumbled sleepily. 

Cassian froze, he kneeled beside Briana's bed, and his jaw clenched. “We don't wish for things like that. Ever.” He growled. 

Briana’s brown eyes fluttered open, and silver lined them when she took in Cassian’s furious expression. “B-But–”

“There are no buts,” He raised his voice slightly, panic surged through him, his stomach was churning. 

“Cassian…” Nesta warned from the door frame. 

“There are no buts!” He repeated, whirling his head to Nesta. “There are real people dying in wars. Faes, humans, male and females. Even innocent children suffer from the consequences of wars–” 

Cassian snapped back to reality when he heard a muffled sob. He looked over his daughter, he stared into those tiny eyes that looked just like his. His heart broke. 

“Princess… I'm sorry for raising my voice,” He reached out to stroke Briana's wet cheek, “I'm so–” 

Briana flinched under Cassian's touch. His wings dropped to the ground, and tears rolled down his own cheeks. He rose to his feet, stumbling back from the bed. He brushed past Nesta, and stormed out of the room. 

He headed to the bathroom, his breathing ragged. He closed the door, leaned over the sink and turned on the faucet with trembling hands. The walls felt like they were moving towards him, trapping him. The air became hard to breathe, Cassian felt surrounded by darkness. 

He had scared Briana, his princess, his daughter.

“I wish there would be a real war going on…” 

No, of course Briana didn't mean what she said. She probably didn't have a clue of what a war would occur, what ravages it would make. Cassian had overreacted, he had crossed the line by raising his voice at her. 

The way his touch had made his little girl flinch… Cassian would never forgive himself for that. 

“I wish there would be a real war going on…”

A war… Cassian had fought countless wars before Briana’s birth. He had devoted his whole life to assure the protection of the Court he was born in. He had served and led Rhysand’s armies for centuries before partially retiring once he became a dad. 

Cassian’s wings shivered at the thought of what would happen if another war would rise. He had too much to lose now to even think about it, he would do anything in his power for this to never happen. 

This stupid wish was the only thing he would ever deny his daughter. Anything but this. No one wants to live with the visible and invisible scars that a war can cause. 

“Cassian?”

“Cassian!” 

Cassian had almost collapsed to the ground when he had heard Nesta's desperate cries as if she was standing right beside him. His face had snapped to her direction instinctively, and for the first time in his life, he had dropped the plan and shot through her direction. 

Cassian still vividly remembered the death-white light hurled towards him and his soldiers. How the earth shatyered from ghe explosion. Some of the most skilled Illyrian warriors had been turned to ash within a matter of seconds. The memory still haunted him. Cassian would've stood in the middle of the explosion with the rest of his soldiers if Nesta's desperate calls hadn't pulled him away. 

“Cassian, open your damn eyes,” Cassian eyes shot open at the urgency in Nesta's voice. The intrusive memory switched to the familiar decor of their bathroom. He hadn't realized how he had stumbled down the floor and crawled until his back had bumped against the side of the large tub. 

Nesta's hands were gripping his cheeks tightly, forcing his head to stop moving so his eyes could concentrate on hers. “Look at me,” She growled. Her eyes chased his and when they locked, she grinned softly. “Hi, Cas,” 

Cassian was breathless, his chest heaving rapidly. His lungs burned as they struggled to fill themselves with oxygen. He pressed his sweaty brows to Nesta's, putting his hands over hers. 

“Hello, Nes,” He whispered, swallowing the tight knot in his throat. 

He closed his eyes, and when Nesta cradled his head to her chest, he wept. His wings drooped and his whole body shook as tears escaped his eyes. 

Cassian hadn't lost control like that for decades now. He had naively thought that maybe this was it, that he was cured. That the invisible damages that his years as the Lord of Bloodshed had left were now healed. That the nightmares, the flashbacks, the anxiety had disappeared forever. 

Cassian clenched his teeth, overwhelmed by the guilt of letting himself get into this state by a simple mention of war. 

“Hey… it's okay to be scared,” Nesta gently ran her fingers through Cassian's hair. His hands were still tightly wrapped around her wrists, holding onto her as if she would slip away if he let go. “I'm right here,” She slowly removed one of Cassian’s hands from her wrist, and lowered it to her stomach. “We’re right here,” 

Cassian grip instantly eased away from her wrists. He slid his hands underneath the fabric of Nesta’s dress, resting his hands flat against her warm skin. 

He moved his head from her breast, rubbing his nose against the column of her neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in Nesta’s sweet scent. She was here, pregnant with their second babe, both alive and incredibly strong. 

“I thought I was getting better,” Cassian mumbled against the skin of her neck, his hands rubbing circles atop her stomach. 

“You are, Cas. Everyday you're getting better. But these wounds…” She placed a kiss on his forehead. “These kinds of wounds… they stay. Like scars, they'll become paler with time, but they'll never completely go away,” 

Cassian hummed, knowing she was right. But accepting this reality was hard, that he'll have to live with these mental scars forever were a massive blow to his male pride. He frowned. “I scared Briana…” 

“She would never be scared of you, my mate. I explained it to her,” Cassian lifted his face to meet hers. “She understands now,” 

“I still feel bad… I need to apologize-”

Nesta held him down firmly, keeping him from standing up. “She's asleep. Appologize to her tomorrow. For now, rest. You need it,” 

Cassian nodded, and pulled Nesta up onto his lap. “Thank you…” He whispered against the shell of her beautiful pointy ear. 

“What for?” She laughed silently.

Cassian looked down at her, at their babe growing beneath her skin. He had not enough words to describe everything he was grateful for. He didn't have a fancy way to declare his deep gratitude for how Nesta's presence in his life made it extremely better. 

“Everything,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Acotar taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria

Cassian taglist: @ladybookstan @acotar-lover

[readychilledwine]

Hiraeth

Summary - After your husband dies, Lucien fills a void you and your son never thought possible.

Warnings - death of a partner, single momming

"Jump, Arlo," Lucien's arms and hands were reached up, waiting for the young male to throw himself into them. "I have you, bud. I will catch you."

Your son watched him, one little hand steadying himself on the thick rough bark of the solid oak tree, the other in his mouth as he chewed on his fingers from nerves and stared down at the redheaded male.

He had managed to climb several feet into a tree while Tamlin had been checking in with you. He was constantly asking how you two were holding up since Andras' death, asking if he could provide anything, asking about Ro.

Lucien had been watching him, but Lucien, raised in the rough Autumn Court, had always allowed your son to explore beyond what you and Andras had been comfortable with.

He had been around more since your husband's death, playing with your son, talking to him, teaching him about the forest and different skills. He had taught him to fish, to cook on a camp fire, they even sword fought together with little wooden swords the Autumn male had made.

At first you had thought it was Lucien acting on something he felt obligated to do, but you had realized slowly it was out of love for Arlo. His little buddy, as Lucien affectionately called him. They had begun to dress in matching outfits, style their hair similarly. Arlo loved Lucien almost as much as he had loved his father.

"I'm too scared," his little voice pulled you back into the moment. The soft tremble of his lip as he looked at you wide-eyed. He was only 5 feet up. For a grown fae, it was an easy jump, or fall, for a child it had to be terrifying, though.

"Arlo, I promise you I will catch you," Lucien spoke softly to him. "I will not let you fall and get hurt. I am right here." Your hand shot to Tamlin's wrist, squeezing tightly as Arlo adjusted his stance with a nod. You refused to look as his little knees bent and he leaped, throwing yourself into Tamlin's chest and hiding in the High Lord's arms.

Soft giggles and laughter, from the tree had you glancing from between your fingers. Arlo was in Lucien's arms, held tight against his side as the old male praised him for his bravery. Tamlin looked down at you, brows raised, and you back away with a soft apology.

You two watched as Lucien held your son high above his head, letting the little boy hold his arms out as if he could fly. "I heard Feyre is home from the Night Court. How is she?" Tamlin typically avoided the topic of his love with you, but news spread fast in Spring of her long awaited return. You had known he was hurting, and were happy, if he was.

"She seems happy, like she's been freed from something." Tamlin answered plainly. "I should return to her. It looks like Lucien and Arlo are going to play for a while. He missed him constantly while we were gone. Kept asking how much longer we'd be staying, mentioning how he promised to take Arlo on a camping trip soon." Tamlin kissed the top of your head. Holding a hand up to Lucien in farewell before moving to go back to the manor.

You watched as he chased your young son through the clearing before finally catching him.

Their laughter became one, as they laid down in the soft plush grass. "Are you going to join us or just stare?' Lucien asked over his shoulder. "Your mom is weird, bud." Arlo laughed and nodded eagerly. Enjoying watching the male tease you.

The three of you laid there, watching the clouds drifting and pointing out different shapes in them. "Are you going to have dinner with us tonight?" You say next to Lucien, his head immediately coming to rest in your lap.

"Are you inviting me to dinner tonight, my lady?" His tone held insecurity in it. "I know you two are-"

"I can feed you, Lucien." You interrupted quietly. "Tamlin has been giving me more gold lately than I know what to do with, especially because he keeps paying for things on top of that out of guilt. It's been so long since you've joined us. Please." Arlo had fallen into a sleep against Lucien's side. His soft breaths comimg out in little snores. "He misses you so much."

Lucien looked up at you then, and it happened. A deep burning sensation setting into your soul as that string appeared. Lucien felt shock hitting him as his breath hitched. "You're my mate." Shock fell into his tone as your own eyes widened.

He sat up slowly, eyes studying you cautiously and laying Arlo gently on the ground. His hands were on your face almost instantly. "Still want to serve me that dinner, petal?" Your breath jumped into your throat. "Because even the Gods know how deeply I burn for you."

"Arlo," you whispered. "He's missed you so much. We-"

"We will talk to him about it tomorrow and just enjoy the night together. The three of us." Lucien kissed your nose, sealing the offer. "I've missed him, too. Going into the woods isn't as fun without my little buddy."

You smiled at him, eyes sparkling. "Guess I can't be mad when you take off with him for days at a time now, huh?"

Lucien leaned his forehead against yours, "I need to teach my son how the world works, petal." His tone was light and joking. You stared into his eyes, lips flicking slowly to his plush lips then back up. "Well, if you insist, darling."

Lucien pulled you to him, kissing you softly before pulling back. "Let's go feed our little guy." You nodded, hands laced into his shirt. "I promise you a thousand more kisses when he's in bed tonight."

He lifted Arlo carefully, carrying him into the stone house you and Andras had built together. "Give me sign this is okay," you whispered into the wind. "Please, Andras."

A butterfly landed on your arm, fluttering it's wings gently, before chasing after Lucien and landing on his shoulder. Then on Arlo's nose.

Chaos ensured hours later as Lucien and Arlo ran and screamed through the House. They were on a warpath to save the kingdom from invaders. A deep voice replayed in your mind, the last words spoken to you by your husband. If I die, go to Lucien, lean on him. He will love you as I have. Both of you.

A soft breeze rustled your hair pushing you towards Lucien, towards the house. Go, it seemed to whisper. Lucien stood in the door way, looking back at you and waiting, his face falling in concern. You went to him, kissing him again and closing the door behind the three of you.

And Gods he did. He smiled at you as he spun Arlo, the bond almost radiating between you two as if it was the sun itself. I love you, y/n. Andras' voice said again in your mind. Be happy, my love. If I don't come home to you. That is my only request.

Lucien and Arlo moved to the table, setting it before running upstairs to wash up for dinner. Hands found your hips and a kiss was snuck before your son came back down. "You seem happy," Lucien whispered.

You nodded, eyes welling slightly with tears as he started to grab food to take it to the table. "I am."

As the three of you settled at the table, a feeling of home came back to you. A feeling you didn't know you had been longing for since your husband's death. Lucien moved to hold your hand as if he sensed it, "Me too, y/n."

[cosmos-coma]

Hi!! Can I request an Eskel one shot where he fell in love with the reader (a Viper witcheress who is homeless since it disbanded) and he invites her back to Kaer Morhen for winter to introduce her to his brothers. She's also a great cook and the wolfs says she's a keeper. 😆

Vipers and Wolves

A/N: Ive never written a witcher!reader before, but it wasn't bad at all! I was hit with the comedic bug for this one, It's not super romantic all around but it is strong in found family!

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Language, very quick editing

___________________________________

It was in the heat of summer when you first met. 

You had been laying under a great big oak tree as the rain pattered down around you. The fire warmed your face as you set a heaping pile of damp fuel beside it, hoping it would dry in time to use it. Stray raindrops fell like tears from the leaves above you, making you shudder as one lucky one slid right down your back. 

“Ugh… stupid rain,” you complained to yourself as you set out your bedroll and started getting comfortable in your camp. 

The sun was beginning to set when you heard rustling far off in the distance, towards the middle of the forest. You were right outside of a small town so it was probably just a human, but people don't usually travel through the thick of the forest either. Your viper head medallion confirmed your suspicions as it lay motionless against your chest.

You stood cautiously and drew your steel sword as the sound of breaking twigs got closer and closer. A large dark silhouette moved within your vision as the sun was now halfway sunk on the horizon. As they got closer you could see it was actually a man on a large black horse, with… two swords on their back? Is it possible you really found another witcher?

You couldn’t believe your cat-like eyes. So many of you were lost after the sieges. So many of your brothers and sisters were killed defending your home from the onslaught of humans, and even then they couldn’t succeed. Your old home now was a wasteland of rocks and unlivable walls that held no more life. All the books and research your school did on the wild hunt… gone save for you and the few survivors. 

“ A fellow witcher.” You held your hand up in a friendly wave as you watched him dismount and come closer to the light of your campfire. 

Your breath escaped you as you saw the warmth of his Golden eyes lit by the fire, they were soft in a way that you didn’t often see from others, let alone witchers. Deep scars ravaged the right side of his cheek, tightly twisting his skin in jagged ways and notching his slightly chapped lips. 

“Ah, not every day you run across another witcher out in the field.” He smiled a bit as he nodded toward your swords. “Eskel, Wolf school.” He introduced himself and held out his hand. He seemed oddly trustworthy of you, but you suppose some people just have better judges of character. 

You dropped your sword back with your other belongings as you shook his hand in return. “Y/n, Viper school.” you smiled a bit as you spoke and motioned to your camp. “You’re, uh- I guess you’re welcome to make camp here too… means I have someone else to collect firewood for me.” you laughed a bit, gaining a small smile in return from the broad man.

He shook his head a bit as his brow furrowed, “isn’t there a town just a few minutes ride that way? Why don’t you get a room at the tavern there?” He asked, taking a seat across from you at the campfire as you sat down on your bedroll. 

“Can’t waste the money.” you said with a frown, “The viper school isn’t livable anymore so I have to hole up in a tavern all winter. I mean, I’ve found a nice place that’ll let me work to stay but, somehow money still seems to run far too thin by the end of the season so I need everything I can get.” 

Eskel watched as you stoked the fire carefully and added another log. He wasn't sure if it was the scar that ran across your nose that seemed to highlight your features, or perhaps it was the way you spoke that found him feeling exactly at home.  Maybe it was your subtle scent of lavender? No, no, it was your eyes for sure. Your eyes glowed in the firelight and danced with a fierce- yet gentle- determination, a dichotomy that Eskel rarely saw outside of his own eyes.

“Well… Do you mind having a guest at your campsite tonight? I’ll collect all the firewood you could ever need.”

---------

“Are you sure this is gonna be alright? I’m not sure…” You said as the tall standing walls of the Keep just crept into view over the hills. “They're not gonna be nearly as nice as you are, you're an exception…” You sighed.

“Oh, no. You’re right- they’re complete assholes, but I promise they’d never be like that to you. Not right away, anyways.” Eskel stifled a small laugh when you turned to scowl deeply at him. “I just mean to say… that as you become more like family they’re gonna treat you more like family. And that of course includes ruthless teasing from time to time.” He smiled and shrugged. 

Though you were fierce and skilled as a Witcher- and among the few women in your profession at that- you knew that you were intruding on another school, someone else's home with different customs and you felt like you needed to tread lightly lest you be asked to return to the oncoming winter season.

It took the rest of the day to finally reach the Keep’s arching gate and ride your horses through. You put them away in the stables, absolutely taking the opportunity to meet the famed Lil bleater along the way. 

A comfortable warmth washed over you as the doors to the great hall opened and a large fire crackled in the fireplace, warming the 3 men already inside. Eskel had told you more than enough about his brothers and his father figure. Geralt, the one with white hair and a scar down the eye who looks grumpy all the time, but can be cracked with a joke at Lambert's or Eskel's Expense. Lambert, smaller than the others and the stereotypical younger brothers, his heart lies in mischief and bomb-making. And finally, Vesemir, Who always- but especially after the sieges- stepped up as a sort of father figure to them and was always a little wary, but more than willing to give anyone a fair chance. 

“Eskel… Welcome back” Geralt greeted and held his mug up to his returning brother. 

“And friend..? Well, Hello..” Lambert said with raised eyebrows which quickly turned into a mischievous grin. Your fingers brushed Eskel’s hand before you could even think about it, inviting and asking for his hand to hold, to which he was quick to respond and intertwine his fingers with yours. You could tell it didn’t go unnoticed, but none of them said anything about it.

“And a Viper at that…Been a long time since I’ve seen any of you. I reckon there's even less of you than there is of us…” Vesemir observed out loud as he nodded and raised his hand in greeting. 

“You’d be right on that… Letho is the only other one of us I know to still be around.” You said with a hint of sadness in your voice, unlike that of what was expected of a witcher, even less than that of what a Viper should be. You were all made to be ruthless and cold, but for some reason, it just didn’t seem to stick with you for very long. 

“Well, welcome to the last of the wolves, I suppose. “ Geralt said with a nod to you, “we were all just arguing about whose turn it is to make dinner.” 

Eskel sighed and set his stuff on the table, “I’m not doing that after a full day of travel. I vote Lambert.” he proposed, getting met with Lambert’s loud and offended scoff. 

“What the FUCK, Eskel?” 

Geralt’s serious exterior cracked as a smile slipped onto his lips and he turned to Lambert with a smirk. “Well, Lambert. That’s two votes for you, one for me, and Vesemir couldn’t give a shit. Sooooo…” he said with a short laugh. 

“You guys are absolute dogshit,” Lambert complained, throwing his hands in the air in an exaggerated gesture. 

Now it was your turn to pipe up, “I don’t mind cooking…”, you said, looking between the small group of men. 

“Y/n, you don’t have to do that. We’ve just spent days on horseback, you should rest..” Eskel tried to argue, but you quickly waved him off. 

“Nonsense. Part of my job at the tavern over winter was to cook for guests. I actually find it rather relaxing.” you said with a smile and a firm squeeze to his hand before you handed your pack over, “Which way to the kitchen?” 

“I’ll show you!” Lambert shot up faster than he probably ever had for a task, and quickly waved you on towards the Keep’s kitchen. Once out of earshot of his brothers and father he quietly thanked you for taking over the dreaded task and showed you everything you could need. 

It wasn’t too long before you were cooking up a storm and coming out of the kitchen with a sizzling pan and a steaming pot. Vesemir was kind enough to grab plates for everyone as the boys all began to crowd around. 

“Hmm, smells better than Geralt's cooking…” Lambert commented as he wafted the steam toward his face.

“Fuck that, it smells better than Vesemir’s cooking..” Eskel dared to say in front of the old man. But it was true, you put all you had into this dish. You figured that- like with many people- a wolf’s heart lies within its stomach. Of course having a full shelf of spices available to you helped a lot, some even that you hadn’t seen in circulation for many years.

Without another word, they all quickly served themselves up and began eating. It was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop all the up the stairs into the tower if you tried hard enough. Your nerves started twisting at your stomach as you got your own plate and still no one had said a word. Was it good? Was it bad? No, Lambert probably would have said so. 

“This…” Vesemir spoke, the first word since everyone had been served, “This is the first time they’ve been completely quiet at dinner in over 50 years…”, he said with a warm smile, more than you ever thought capable of the older man. “Your great food has given me the one thing I never thought I’d have again. Silent company..” He laughed a bit, now turning to Eskel. 

“She’s a keeper, you know that, right? If you show up next winter without her you’re gonna sleep in the stables.” Vesemir finished as he turned back to his plate. Lambert and Geralt mumbled agreements through full mouths and content hums as Eskel turned the slightest shade of pink. 

“Yes, I understand. I don’t need your threats to keep her around though,” Eskel said with a small smile as he reached for your hand above the table, in full view of everyone else. 

A smile spread across your face that you tried to hide as you took a bite of food, “Oh yeah, Eskel’s never gonna be rid of me at this rate…” 

_____________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @madamemelancholysstuff @dark-academia-slut

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[quartzhearted]

✦ tarrion: an odd interval of blankness felt after something big happens to you but before you feel the resulting emotional reaction.

the funeral is held on a clear, sunny winter afternoon.

it takes place in the great chapel within the castle, filled so tightly that thousands of people pour out of the doors into the castle halls and down the great staircase. brodia natives, firenese, the occasional solmic. madam ève of firene, sat at the front and dressed in black, tulle pulled over her expression, clutching a bouquet of lentil flowers and lillies in her hands. his mother and father, aging, devoid of all their posture and their positivity, mother hunched over sobbing into her hands, father with a hand on her back and another covering his eyes.

and then there is morion, seated across from the open casket that holds his deceased brother. he doesn't move.

he remembers how he'd found him. elusia had come on strong, archers lining their ranks to counter all of the footsoldiers in their ranks. morion was a general and his brother the leader, and what a leader that man was! his word was gospel to the infantry---a call to action was all it took to send the sea towards the snow. morion himself ran like a beast, brushing off arrows like it was nothing and cleaving elusian nuisances with no problem. it was such a familiar motion, getting into these border skirmishes with his brother at the helm.

but when morion had turned around, ready to take his next order from his brother the king-to-be,

the man was on the ground, arrows rising from his back.

morion can't say he remembers much; all he knows is the warmth of his brother's blood on his shoulder and the horrible weight of him, fading, on his back.

even now, he doesn't feel anything. no rage, no despair---only quiet. the healers had him patched up, he thinks offhandedly, examining his brother's chest. probably wouldn't have made for a nice open casket if he still had holes in him.

he knows that emotion is frowned upon. his father is trying to rein in his emotions at his son's funeral, for godssake. so does that make him a good person or a bad one that he feels nothing?

morion stares at anything but his brother's pallid face. lillies line the casket and spill to the floor; the sun shines through the stained glass down to his brother like an invitation; the guy playing the ceremonial organ definitely knows what he's doing; they cleaned and buffed his brother's sword just for the occasion.

tonight, he will not sleep---overcome with massive, descending waves of grief, he will trash his room in furious tears. he will scream, he will cry, he will spit raging insults at the elusians that dared to take his brother away from him. he will injure himself on the flying shrapnel of tables and glassware and he will bleed; he will step out of brodia and into a world where nothing is just and everything is aflame with spite. he will become the worst version of himself.

but for now, the tides have recessed. morion sits and watches, waiting for the procession to be over, waiting for them to close the casket so he doesn't risk acknowledging the truth,

that his brother is really and truly gone

and he failed his duty as younger to protect him.

[thebawdybaldurian]

BG3FicFeb Day 11

SFW: After the attack on the Last Light Inn, the tadpolers heal their wounded.

NSFW: Tav and Astarion visit her cottage when they finally arrive in Baldur's Gate, sharing a bath and rekindling their sex life after Astarion's healing journey.

SFW: bandaging/healing each others’ wounds

“Is everyone alright?” Tav called while catching her breath. She made a face as she pulled her sword out of the winged horror she'd felled. Her adrenaline was so high, she didn’t notice the bleeding wounds on her forearm where the creature had slashed her.

“Tav!” Astarion went to her, holding his hand over the wounds, his concern for her outweighing the intoxicating scent of her blood.

“You’re bleeding too,” her fingers reached for the small cut across his perfect cheek. She began to tremble as she healed him, her body finally noticing her own pain.

“Don’t bother with me,” he winced as the stinging wound on his face began to close up from her spell. “Halsin! She needs healing.”

The Druid rushed over after helping a tiefling back to their feet. “Clataedre, Astarion,” he called, laying his hands on her immediately when he saw her wounds.

“Where are the others? Is anyone else injured?” Tav looked around as Halsin healed her. “Is…are we missing people?”

She saw a few of the tiefling children huddled under a table and went to them as soon as he was finished with his spell. “Where’s Mol?” Tav knew the eldest of the orphans was always with the others.

“They took her,” Doni cried, held tightly to Meli. “The winged beast.”

“They took a few others,” Halsin came over to soothe the crying children.

“Stay with them,” Tav touched his shoulder, knowing they were in better hands than with her. “I’m going to find Jaheira and Isobel.”

“Bold of them to attack an inn full of Harpers,” Astarion joined her.

“They took people, why?” Tav wondered, spotting Jaheira healing a wound on Isobel’s temple.

“They were here for me,” Isobel looked at Jaheira, keeping her secret for the moment.

“Why?” Tav joined them. “Because of the moon barrier?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Isobel lied, knowing her father had likely sent for her.

“They took off with a few others, a child even,” Tav informed them, dabbing areas of blood off Jaheira looking for wounds.

“I’m fine, cub,” the Harper waved her off, knowing none of it was her blood. “The cultists have been getting bolder. We need to strike back at them soon.”

NSFW: Taking a bath together

Background: The adventurers have finally entered Baldur’s Gate and Tav decides to check in on her small cottage in the Lower City, inviting Astarion to come along. They’ve been working through Astarion’s traumatic past with small exercises and limited physical contact, but they’ve yet to be intimate again.

Content and Warnings: Female elf x male elf. Mutual stimulation, PIV sex.

“Well, this is it,” Tav stopped at a bright purple door attached to a modest cottage. Various notices had been stuck to the door. She pulled them all off, unconcerned since her key still worked. The door groaned slightly, but opened, revealing a sitting room that was also attached to the kitchen. There was a staleness in the air from being shut up for so long, and as Astarion came to discover, a half eaten loaf of moldy bread and cheese.

“You left this all out?” he made a face, covering the moldy food with a towel while she went to open the large kitchen window.

“I was planning to come back the night I got abducted. I often need a little snack after my performances,” she replied, wrapping the moldy food up and setting it in the rubbish bin outside.

“And the pile of laundry on the chaise?” He eyed the rest of the room with a smile, enjoying this private look at her life. “Not concerned about guests seeing that,” he teased her a little, leaning against the kitchen table.

“You’re the first man I’ve ever brought back here actually.”

“And what about the women you’ve been with?” He teased her again.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re the first person I’ve brought back here. I haven’t liked anyone enough to share my private sanctuary until now.” She grabbed his hands and pressed her body against his.

“Oh so you like me?” He smiled and kissed her.

“One might even go so far as to say I love you,” she grinned, biting his lower lip softly.

“It’s good that you can admit it,” he teased her one last time, before squeezing her tightly against him with a heavy sigh. “I love you. More than anything. Thank you for showing this to me.”

“You haven’t even seen the best parts yet.”

“Like the bedroom?” he gave her ass a loving squeeze.

“I was going to say the view from the study, but the bedroom is nice too.”

“Lead the way, love.”

They pulled away from one another, Tav leading him to the ladder that went to the loft. “I know you’ll just look up my dress,” she motioned for him to climb up first.

“Guilty!” He grinned and began to climb. She followed closely behind him, giving his ass an eyeful of her attention. As she reached the top, she found his attention focused on the windows. “Well, that’s something,” he was otherwise speechless. He walked towards the windows, letting the late afternoon sun wash over him. The view of the harbor and city below were almost completely unobstructed, only a few spires and towers to look beyond.

He only remembered the city at night, dark and sparsely populated. This city was alive, moving at so many different speeds. He’d never felt much sympathy for any of the dark denizens he’d met at night, but these busy little dots had no idea what was coming and it filled him with sorrow.

She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his shoulder. “So what do you think?” she asked.

“It looks beautiful…and fragile,” he pressed his hand to the warm glass.

“The glass or the city?” She knew his silence meant he was deep in thought.

“Both, I suppose. The Elder Brain could destroy it all so easily. Or Cazador if he wished. As for the glass…”

“It’s quite strong I think,” she pressed her hand on top of his, nuzzling his neck. “I once had a dream it was strong enough to hold us both when we made love against it.”

“Really?” He cocked his head slightly.

“Mmmhmm,” she gently kissed his neck. “When we were in the goblin village." He could only guess it had been the morning she'd snuck off to pleasure herself after they'd had an argument the previous night. “How about we check out the rest of the house?” She suggested, not wanting to linger on discussions of sex. They’d made a lot of progress with his healing, but she was waiting for him to decide when he was ready to try anything sexual again.

She pulled him away from the windows and back down the ladder to tour the rest of the house. She took him down the hallway that led to the bath and bedroom. He peeked in the bathroom first, grinning widely at the large soaking tub. “Now that is a thing of beauty,” he walked in and eyed the tub.

“It’s one of my favorite spots in the house,” she smiled, leaning on the door frame. “The boiler is enchanted, so I can get hot water almost instantly.”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing a bath,” he blushed. “We did that in the goblin village too.”

“Yes, I remember you nearly tickled me to death,” she beamed widely at the memory.

That was the moment when they’d both realized they might be able to have something beyond their sexual attraction to one another. She’d doted attention on him, washing and massaging his scalp. He’d allowed himself to be open and silly with her. They both tried to forget the fight they’d had right after, when he’d tried to repay her kindness with oral sex, which she’d refused. It was one of the things they’d been working on, giving love unconditionally, without feeling obligated to repay it right away. “A bath does sound amazing,” Tav stepped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.

They slowly undressed, peeking at the bodies they’d known intimately, but not for quite some time. They both felt a little shy, like they were getting a second chance at their first look at one another. They slipped their final undergarments down as the tub continued to fill. Tav bent over and circled her hand through the water, testing the temperature. She adjusted the heat a little and looked back up at him. “After you,” she motioned for him to get in first, fighting against the stirring of her loins as she looked at his naked frame. He climbed in, fighting his own desires as she stepped in front of him, settling down at the opposite end of the tub. This tub was more accommodating, so they didn’t have to squish in so closely, but their bodies still touched slightly under the warm water. “Do you want it hotter?” She asked, knowing he ran colder than her.

“A little,” he gulped, thinking things were plenty hot in other places.

She adjusted the tap again and then shut the faucet off completely once the tub was full enough. They both sunk down into the water to soak and relax, letting out deep sighs. “To think I’d almost gotten used to bathing via a bucket,” Astarion mused.

“I’ll be happy to never see that bucket again,” Tav smiled. “I might soak here everyday.”

“I might join you everyday,” he smiled back, grabbing one of her legs that floated next to him. He began to massage her foot, trying to make a decision. He felt ready to try some more intimate acts with her, but worried about ruining all the progress they’d made if he found himself disassociating again.

“That feels nice,” she sighed again, picking up one of his legs to do the same. “With all the walking we’ve been doing, I think I need new boots.”

“I was thinking we just need to convince Halsin to pull us both in a cart,” he joked.

“That’d be nice too,” she laughed.

She was still spending a lot of time with the druid, but they were no longer making love multiple times a day now that their initial hunger for one another had cooled down to a reasonable amount. Still, she found herself thinking back to the times she and Astarion had made love or more accurately, fucked. He had been rough and aggressive with her on occasion, which she liked, and which Halsin was less inclined to do. He was gentle and sweet, even when he was pressing all of his weight on top of her. She longed for a bit of that rough and dirty sex, wondering if his style of lovemaking would change after his healing journey.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Astarion, giving her foot a gentle squeeze and saying her name. His thoughts too had gone to their sex life. “Tav,” he swallowed the nervousness in his throat, having come to a decision as they soaked and massaged one another. “I…I think I’m ready to try some things…with you…together.”

“Okay,” she nodded, feeling her heartbeat rapidly increase. “What did you have in mind?”

“Some mutual touching…” he felt his spine tingling at the thought. “And depending on how things feel…”

“Okay,” she felt her face flushing all over. “Just keep checking in with yourself, like we’ve practiced.” She shifted a little, feeling an urgent tingle between her legs. “Did…you want to keep things here in the tub…or wait until we get out?”

“Our first time involved water…why don’t we keep things here for now? Stick with the theme.” He shifted as well, anticipating her touch.

She nodded, pulling herself out of her reclined position and tucking her legs under her so she could kneel between his legs. She leaned in to kiss him, gripping the edge of the tub to hold herself up and letting her other hand caress his chest, slowly moving downward. His hands wandered to her as well, letting his thumbs stroke her hips. Her fingers brushed against his cock, floating half hard in the water. She touched it lightly, unlocking her lips from his. “Is that alright?”

“Very much so,” he kissed her again, letting a hand wander towards her backside and then between her thighs.

“Mmmm,” she purred as his fingers tickled her gently, already feeling some of viscous arousal there. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered, letting her hand take ownership of his cock as his fingers slipped along her folds.

“I’ve missed you too,” he kissed her deeply, closing his eyes so he could enjoy both the feeling of her hand around him and the slick warmth of her folds.

They stayed like this for a while, kissing hungrily and stimulating each other, their bodies quivering in excitement. He finally looked at her, needing just a little bit more. She fingers trembled as she silently acknowledged his look, letting her hand move to a different position around his cock, preparing to slip him inside her. “We can stop at anytime, okay?” She said, moving the tip of his cock towards her engorged slit.

“Okay,” he nodded, biting his lip slightly as he felt her cunt swallow the head of his cock. She let out a hissing breath as she eased herself further down, sliding him in inch by inch.

“Oh Gods,” she sighed as her clit reached his hipbone, engulfing him completely. He was the perfect size for her cunt, Halsin’s thick, long cock a little too much at times. They were like a key and lock, fitting perfectly together.

“You feel so good,” he moaned as she began to move slowly up and down his shaft. “Gods, you feel so good.”

She found his lips again, sharing her hot breaths as she worked her hips against him. They stared into each other’s eyes, sharing the special intimacy that they’d both missed so much. The bathroom filled with the soft burble of the water stirred by their movements and the quiet moans of two lovers rekindling their fires slowly. “I want to come with you,” she spoke between heavy breaths, feeling the urgent pressure on her clit growing. “Tell me how you want me to get you there and when you’re close.”

“A little faster,” he gripped her ass tightly, eager to feel the pulsation of her climax around him as he erupted inside her. “And I like when you squeeze around the head of my cock when your hips move upward.”

“Very specific…I love it,” she smiled, doing exactly that when her hips reached the apex of their movement.

“Just like that, love,” his mouth fell open.

“Yeah?” She groaned, holding tight to her climax, waiting for him with all her effort. “What else?”

“Just don’t stop,” he begged, gripping her ass even tighter, ready to explode and she moved faster around his cock. “I’m so close, just, uhhhnnnn, yeah,” he felt her pulsing around him as his seed sprung loose, joining her joyous moans with his.

His unbridled noises made her climax even sweeter, no longer holding back any of himself to seem proper and refined. There was no need to perform the carefully crafted routine of the trained Lothario. It was just Astarion, letting out the sounds his body finally felt wholly for the first time. They held tightly to one another, letting their climaxes vibrate against each other’s body.

It was as powerful as the first time they’d been together, but this wasn’t followed by the immediate fear that had gripped them and pulled them apart. They melted together, catching their breath, their hearts filled by love. “My love,” she giggled happily, kissing him greedily. “The noises you made. Gods.”

“I don’t know where they came from,” he blushed happily. “I…it was so wonderful. I could feel everything. You felt so fucking good.”

“You did too,” she grinned. “In fact, you, huhhhh,” she squeezed her thighs together, pressing a second small climax out of her engorged clit. “Mmmph, you made me come twice. Pretty good for a first time.”

“Thank you for being patient with me,” he looked in her eyes, so grateful to have her in his life. “I love you.”

“You were worth the wait, my love. My everything.”

They kissed and caressed each other until the water had gone cold and their skin was pruny. “How about we stay here tonight and join the others at camp in the morning?” She suggested as they climbed out and toweled off. “You’ll never have a better trance than in my bed. I paid a pretty copper for it.”

“I don’t know how much sleep we’ll be getting,” he pulled her close. “We may have opened the floodgates.”

[yellowcry]

Tell me something I'll forget (and you might have to tell me again)

Mirabel's ceremony! Such a big day!

Isabela looked up, staring as her sister slowly reached her doorknob

Pedro and Alma swap au

Okay.... It definitely went wrong. Isabela backed away in shock, leaning on her Tía. Mirabel's door vanished right in front of their eyes. Leaving a shining unsertanity in the air. Can the door even disappear? How? In Isabela's long eleven years long life she hadn't seen anything quite like that. The Madrigals stared in confusion, the world was frozen. Mirabel stared at Abuelo with such sad eyes. Several petals fell off the flower crown that Isabela had made for her. Mama and Papa held each other tightly, with wide open mouths. The wind blew in the patio, a right sign of how worried Tía Pepa was.

"Shh..." Felíx patted her spine, trying to make her calm down. "Mi vida, it's okay." Of course, he was the one to stay optimistic despite the situation. Always looking on the bright side.

"Dolly, do you know what's going on?" Isabela leaned closer to her twin-cousin. She was smart, maybe she had already figured out what happened (on simply heard it)

Dolores slowly tilted her head. "No idea. I didn't hear anyone talking about that ever before." Yeah, everyone before got their gifts? Why wouldn't Mirabel have one too? Isabela's grip on her cousin's palm tightened.

Camilo's eyes looked between his parents, sister, and cousins, trying to understand what was going on. He shapeshifted from nerves, gripping Tía's hand.

Pedro shook his head, turning to the guests, mainly Agústin's relatives and family friends. "Today's celebration's dismissed. Please, everyone, go home." The Madrigal Candle in his hands flickered, fading for just a bare second. Flashes of yellow light fell on the floor

With it, the small amount of people who were invited went out of the dark patio, grumbling.

Things spun around really fast. Isabela found herself bored in her room. Don't get her wrong, she was worried. And upset too. But sitting in her room wouldn't do anything.

She suspected that her parents were with Mirabel. Of course, Isabela couldn't imagine how she felt. So young, helpless. Even more than Isabela herself. Tía Pepa and Tío Felix probably were comforting their kids. And heavens knew what was Luisa doing. This left her alone in this predicament. When everyone was busy and she didn't have anyone to ask all the hard questions in her mind.

Isabela walked out on her toes. She knew she had to be quiet if she didn't want to get caught by Abuelo. She hated it, she wasn't Dolores who could move like a ghost. But Isabela would prefer to suffer for a bit than to be found.

Casita creaked its tile, asking Isabela to stay away. The young girl just shook her head, patting one of the pillars. "C'mon, I want to help," She demanded, pushing herself to a weak light, coming from one of the rooms.

Abuelo paced around the kitchen nervously, as Luisa (of course, it's always her) followed him like a duckling. In a candlelight, Isabela could see how pale her sister was. Not like she could blame her. Tío Bruno knocked on the table in this heavy predicament. It was quiet. Isabela peaked through the doorway, but the trio was a bit distracted. It was dark, candles glimmered, dripping with wax. The table was filled with food that wasn't going to be used in the way they planned.

Finally, Abuelo turned to Tío Bruno. "Okay, here's what we'll do. You go take a vision." His fists clenched from bursting nerves. "If there's anything wrong, if it means any danger we must know."

Danger? For what? Pfff... Isabela bet she could help with it herself! And she doesn't even need that stupid shimmering fashionable sword. (tho she had to admit, it looks extremely cool) She can help with plants!

Bruno winced. "Papa, are you sure? I mean..."

"Bruno." Pedro had cut him off. "It's for the family. You have to ensure Mirabel's safe."

It was something they heard every day. They needed to be in safety. No matter how boring it was. It was strange, Dolores had said that other girls didn't live like them. They were going to school, and playing outdoors. Isabela really couldn't understand why they were locked in.

The younger man nodded, nervous. Isabela could see him shrink under Abuelo's gaze. Again, it wasn't something unexpected. Abuelo didn't like it when anyone disobeyed him.

Lost in her thoughts, Isabela didn't notice how Tío Bruno almost bumped into her. She jumped back, startled. Damn, she didn't plan to be caught.

Bruno winced looking down at her. "Kid? What are you doing in here?"

"Don't tell Abuelo I was here!" Isabela begged. She feared to think what Abuelo would do. (He probably won't actually do anything bad, just scold her and close her in her room. She wasn't sure why she was so worried about his reaction)

Bruno's eyes widened, he gestured stop. ", Okay, okay..."

She bit her lip, looking up. With how dark it was, she barely could make out her Tío's outlines. "Do you know anything?"

Bruno shrugged his shoulders. "Gotta see the future for that?" He patted her spine, nervous as always. "Are you worried for your sister?"

Isabela didn't reply. Her mind still was too wild to proceed with everything that had happened. Maybe she was? Or maybe she was upset or mad? Or confused? She didn't quite realize her own feelings yet. "Have a good vision."

It would be better not only for Bruno but for Mirabel too. And, well, Isabela wouldn't leave him alone tomorrow until he confessed of what he saw.

—

Bruno froze, staring at the tablet in front of his eyes. An older Mirabel stood in front of Casita. A series of deep cracks ran all over the building. But, when Bruno tilted the vision plate, it would be changed differently.

For the cheese's sake, what does it mean? His visions were never like this. It was supposed to be one certain future that was set in stone. Not.... Whatever it was.

Papa would be so disappointed. Probably say that Bruno wasn't strong enough and failed to protect her. Part of him was afraid. Of the disappointment. Of facing his dad. Bruno didn't want to get in trouble for this vision.

And what would happen to Mirabel if Pedro knows? Knowing his papa, Bruno couldn't imagine a good reaction. In the best case she would probably be protected so much she wouldn't be able to breathe. But, honestly, Bruno could imagine Pedro just sending Mirabel out of Casita from fear that the building would fall on her.

He didn't want this to happen. It would break Mirabel's heart. It would break everyone. Bruno knew he couldn't tell about it to anyone. Was he a coward? Maybe. But he wasn't ready to show it. He didn't think he ever would.

The green plate shattered against the rock in his vision cave. Shrads of the green glass were scattered around the sand, slowly falling under it.

The hard metallic door creaked behind Bruno.

[mamelukeraza]

My relations with the Duke of Reichstadt (2/?)

Hi guys! Here is the second part for this series! Thanks for anyone who supported the first post! Making content about the King of Rome/Napoleon II always makes me happy and fills my heart with joy. I hope you enjoy it!

The next day, that is to say, June 24, I addressed the following lines to Count Dietrichstein: "I have been pleasantly impressed by the spirit, knowledge and judgment that your august pupil displayed in yesterday's interview; therefore I deeply regret to have neglected in the past the opportunity of an interview that honored and delighted me as much as yesterday's. When we bear such a great name and know from childhood that we are called to such high destinies; when, moreover, we are so well gifted like Your Highness and we live in times similar to our own, it is because Providence has appointed us for great things. Ordinary men, regardless of the rank in which they have been placed by birth, aspire and achieve only ordinary things. But men out of line, and among these I dare to count the eminent student of Your Excellency, they have duties towards society and history, from which they are not allowed to evade. I look forward to the time when I am granted to renew my visit of yesterday, and I desire nothing more ardently than to maintain His Highness in the opinion that he has formed of me and to which our interview the day before, as well as the favorable idea that he was able to conceive the content of some of my military writings, will certainly contribute. only to a small extent. Please accept with my best wishes, etc."

In response to this letter, I received a very friendly invitation for the next morning. This one came across the kindest orders of His Excellency the Emperor, who called me to met him that same morning. On my arrival, I saw so many people waiting in the antechambers that I thought I had the patience to see the duke. We talked to each other with all the grace of people who understand each other. I again expressed my wish to see him claim the throne of Greece, free to set whatever conditions he saw fit. This idea made him smile; but I clearly noticed that his desires and hopes were tending higher, moreover, he was trying to abuse of himself, pretending that he was too young by a few years to wear the Hellenic crown, and seeming to fear that we would not let him rule alone. Then, abruptly, he returned with marked interest to the duties and qualities of the commander-in-chief. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks burned. Count Dietrichstein left us alone for a few moments, and the young prince held me tightly with both hands:

"Speak to me frankly," he exclaimed, "do I have some merit, and am I called to a great future, or is there nothing in me that is worthy of ending up like this? What do you think, what do you hope for my future? What will happen to the son of the great emperor? Will Europe support him in taking some kind of independent position? How do I balance my French duty with my Austrian duty? Yes, if France called me, not the France of anarchy, but the one that has faith in the Imperial principle, I would run to her, and if Europe tried to expel me from my father's throne, I would draw the sword against all Europe. But is there an imperial France today? I don't know! A few isolated voices, a few voices without influence, they cannot carry any weight. Such serious resolutions deserve and require more solid foundations. If my destiny is never to return to France, I seriously wish to become another Prince Eugene for Austria. I love my grandfather; I feel that I am a member of his family, and for Austria I would gladly draw my sword against the whole world, except France."

He spoke to me as one speaks to a confessor, and I received his confidences in the same way. These were projects, of course, very legitimate in themselves and that could only become dangerous in a single hypothesis, the realization of which, in truth, was not at all impossible, but seemed at least very distant. Once again he gave vent to the feelings of filial affection. He said that no one had understood his father; that it was pitiful, that it was slanderous not to give his actions any motive other than ambition; that all his life and all his conduct had been consumed by the great and salutary projects which he had conceived for the happiness of Europe; that Austria, in particular, had ignored him and his own interests; that he had played into the hands of the Russians. The duke added that he wanted nothing more than to earn his spurs by fighting them. He spoke with warmth, but also with that frank and intimate conviction of youth. Then, hearing Count Dietrichstein's voice in the next room, he abruptly changed the subject to address this question to me:

— What memory do you have of my father in Egypt? — The memory of a great figure — I answered. — I understand, if you are talking about Ibrahim, the viceroy; but the populations? They have not yet returned from their surprise; this astonishment, however, has not been followed by any irritation, for the Arabs and the Turks, though they have the same faith, do not get along with each other, and one heavy yoke succeeded another still heavier. — Yes, this is an explanation; but the masses see in a great man only a freak of nature, a meteor that shines for a moment and immediately disappears.

At that moment he exclaimed again: — Oh! If only you stayed with me; but before you, opens a path full of smiling perspectives capable of tempting you. I shook his hand and said; "We'll talk about this later."

And we separated after kissing.

Only three days after this interview, and since in the meantime I had only been able to meet the Duke under unfavorable circumstances, I had a special interview with him that lasted for more than two hours. On the morning of that day, Count Dietrichstein had come to visit me and had complained, with the bad temper of a mother, about the duke's stubbornness and his aversion to any study except military art and mathematics; there wasn't even a german spelling that he didn't want to treat his way.

The count recognized that his student had a good nature, which, however, was hardened by indocility and pride. The duke, to whom I shared, insofar as I thought useful, these reproaches, did full justice to the count, especially to his excellent heart, but in short he praised nothing else in him. He had a definite opinion of his entourage, and he spoke to me frankly and forthrightly about the Emperor and the court, with the accent of an upright heart, but also of self-assured intelligence. He loved his grandfather with a filial love; for from the day he was brought to Vienna as a child, he had found in him the tenderness of a father. He had his ittle corner to play in the Emperor's room, spent half the days by his side, ate with him when the Emperor dined alone, shared with him the pleasures of the resort, finally grew close to him, like a branch grafted onto a foreign stump. He told me all this; but he added that he had not forgotten for a moment whose day he kept and in what place his father's ashes lay. He painted the court for me in colors that were often not very favorable, revealing, being honest, only the nature, the judgment, the heart, the garb of Archduke John. It was impossible for me to dispute the accuracy of his assessments. In many people he thought precisely like me, and, inside him, he did not compromise more than I did.

Like the agitated traveler who sighs after a fountain of living water, he thirsted for information about the situation in Europe. I told him everything I knew and thought. Although in my opinion the fall of Charles X was inevitable, I was far from expecting that it would be soon; as for Louis Philippe and the younger branch, I didn't even think about it.

Rather, I believed in a period of anarchy, out of which the new government would emerge. To whom would this government fall divided? Could it be the Napoleonic party? This point was beyond my judgment. I could give the duke no other advice than to strengthen his judgment by reading the history of past times, in order to appreciate contemporary events; thus learning to distinguish reality and truth from appearances and illusions, above all, meditating on his father's story, realizing the current situation of the world, which contains in germ the near future that will be the result by virtue of the irresistible logic of things; furthermore, to affirm his person in the army and in the diplomatic spheres, to attract to him capable men of great experience, of whom I named several, finally, to enlighten himself by all possible means on the internal situation of France. With a wave of his hand, he indicated his book collection, which contained several hundred volumes. They were historical works and memoirs, all related to the war and his father.

This precious treasure was increasing day by day, to which no obstacle was placed. I promised him that I would choose the best among these works, that I would be a very devoted friend of his and that I would complement with my reflections the observations that the general state of politics would suggest to him; finally I begged him not to confuse legitimate desires with achievable desires, but to never lose sight of them. He was so well trained by his young enthusiasm that he called me his Posa(1). I replied to him: — That's the language of a twenty-year-old. Is there any consistency in this will? That is what, at the moment, it is difficult for me to know.” My defiance seemed to sadden him. He kissed me, telling me: — You're right, I don't deserve you to see in me the son of Napoleon. I comforted him with these words: — Your Posa, yes, but on the condition that you do not imitate don Carlos; I will be for your whole life, and I hope, that it will be a glorious life. He reviewed the entire series of steps to be taken so that, once his military house was established, it could be linked to his person. We had time ahead of us in this regard. He thought he would achieve his ends through his grandfather, the Emperor. I authorized him to do everything he could for this purpose. As for him, he no longer doubted success. (1) Allusion to the tragedy of Schiller Don Carlos.

Source: Mes relations avec le duc de Reichstadt : mémoire posthume / par le comte de Prokesch-Osten,. . . ; traduit de l’allemand [par A. de Prokesch-Osten fils]. (s. f.). Gallica. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k6536278r/f39.item.zoom

[solopostings]

The King and the Mage.

“Do I have to go?” Ravii clicked his tongue as he stood in front of the mirror. Dima – his right-hand man; his Sword – fixed up his cape. It was lighter than he was used to since Isla was a much, much warmer kingdom than Glacia. The young King hated wearing such light clothing ... but he had to do it.  

“You must go as the new king of Glacia. Make some sort of peace offering. Join the festivities and look... good.” Dima sighed. He, too, hated going there. But it was to make Glacia look good, after all. 

Ravii waved Dima away, fixing his own outfit. Taking a step away from the mirror he spun around, holding his arms out. 

“How do I look? Be honest with me, Dima.” Ravii grumbled, he was very much out of his comfort zone in this outfit. 

“... you look great.” Dima places his hands behind his back, scanning up and down. “Different, but good.” 

“Good enough. Let’s get this festival over with.” 

The Glacian walked past Dima, leading the way. Dima immediately followed behind him. Walking out into the streets of Isla. 

Just as Glacia in its own way – music was everywhere. The dance and music were different, but overall, it was still something Ravii enjoyed. This festival was meant for The Oracle. It was his birthday, one of the biggest events of the entire kingdom of Isla. 

The King of Isla, Amir Zaquatis, invited King Ravii to join in the festivities. Perhaps the last act of peace he could manage after the death of the late King and Queen. 

Everyone cheered when the royal Zaquatis siblings walked into the main square. The youngest son, Salem Zaquatis, waved at the crowd and eyed Ravii from where he stood. 

“Let us not forget our guest... the King of Glacia himself, Ravii Dominis.” Salem gracefully motions his hand, making the crowd all look at the Glacian.  

Ravii blinked. Unable to make a good move with such a callout. Of course he would put the spotlight on him. He didn't want to be noticed here at all. 

All Ravii could do in return was bow slightly with a nod. 

“Well, let’s not just stand there... start the music!” Layla – the second oldest royal sibling – clapped her hands. With a pink mist flowing around the square, a giant explosion of pink and gold appeared. Revealing a bunch of mage dancers – Layla's personal crew to dance and perform with.  

Some began to sing along with the princess of Isla. Bards and other townsfolk played music on instruments to play along with their singing and dancing. 

Ravii stood with the crowd who only watched. Dima behind him just in case of some secret attack – who knew what would happen. They were in enemy territory whether they liked it or not. 

Layla’s dancers began to pull some people that were in the crown into the main square. Making them dance along to the music. A smaller, blue haired woman dressed in pink and green made her way to Ravii.  

She held out her hand to him, gently smiling at him. She looked like a little fairy compared to how giant the Glacian was. 

“You’re making a mistake.” Ravii cackled, moving his head away, “There are better people to choose from here.” 

“I heard you’re quite the dancer, Your Majesty.” the woman replied, her hand still out for him to take.  

Crossing his arms, he glanced up at Dima. In return he only shrugged his shoulders, “... you should have some fun, Your Majesty. That’s why you’re here...” 

Ravii sighed, rolling his eyes and took the woman’s hand, “Okay, fine. Just one dance.” 

The dancer smiled brightly, holding his hand tightly as she brought him into the middle of the dancing people. 

The Zaquatis siblings immediately eyed the Glacian when seeing him of all people dancing along. Valerian – the third oldest – glanced at Layla. Sharing the glance, she smirked. Her song was upbeat in Islean tongue. 

Salem sat back, smiling and laughing as he clapped along the beat. He was good at dancing himself, however... he was keeping an eye on that Ice King. 

The whole Kingdom had their eyes on the Glacian and that one dancer. 

“My name is Rhea, by the way.” The dancer spoke while they were closer together, “Zahira. Rhea Zahira.” 

Ravii spun her around, easily keeping pace to her dancing. Letting her draw away, they did not draw their eyes away from each other. Locked on.  

“You know who I am already.” Ravii chuckled softly as he motioned around her, holding out his hand for her to take.  

“I’d still like you to proper introduce yourself to me.” Rhea mused as she took his hand, “I’ve never met you before, how would I know who you are?” 

He laughed in return, pulling her close to him as he took both her hands, “Ravii Dominis. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhea Zahira.” 

Dima watched them from where he stood, his eyes slowly widening a bit. He had never seen his King smile this long and laugh. 

. . . He was laughing. He was happy. 

As the song ended, Layla stopped singing and twirled her finger. A slower melody began to play, and she went to sit down with her siblings. 

Sahel – the oldest Zquatis sibling – leaned over, whispering in Layla’s ear as he glared at Ravii. 

“Who is the girl? She is a part of your damn crew.” 

Layla hums as she twirled the hair that dangled over her face with her finger, “I think that is my newest recruit. She has incredible magic, she used to be a priestess or something like that.” 

Layla turned her head to look at Sahel, “Why are you asking?” 

The older sibling huffed, leaning back in his seat, “She’s flirting with the Ice King. How is it your useless magic did nothing, but this random person...” 

“Hey!” Layla huffed, “My magic has limitations, it’s not useless.” 

“I don’t like how he is smiling back at her.” Valerian mutters under his breath, glaring at Rhea. “Can you fire her?” 

“Boys, boys...” Layla smacked Valerian’s and Sahel’s shoulder as she leans forward, “... We know better than anyone how strict Glacia’s rules are. They can’t go anywhere anyway. She’s just a magician. A dancer. No royal blood in her. Don’t worry about a thing.” 

Salem watched silently. Not blinking whatsoever. His cheek rested on his palm as his legs were crossed. Gently kicking his dangling foot to the music. 

Everyone saw two people dancing. He witnessed two souls burning brightly. Never in his life has he seen such a phenomenon. They out brightened the entire kingdom with their souls alone. 

... Interesting, Salem thought to himself.  

Is that what souls look like while they are in love? 

The music ended and the people cheered for the two lone dancers taking the spotlight. Ravii and Rhea held hands and bowed to the crowd. Finally letting go, the two shared one last glance and walked back to their spots. 

Dima coughed, clearing his throat as he looked back at Ravii, “One dance.” 

Ravii clicked his tongue as he crossed his arms, “I haven’t gotten to dance in quite some time, Dima. The winter festival is only once a year.” 

The Glacian glanced at the people, then began eyeing Rhea once again as she was speaking to another person. Taking a deep breath, he narrowed his eyes away. 

If only he could dance with her alone.

Just one dance. That’s all he wanted. 

The festivities continued throughout the entire day, people making their prayers and blessing towards the Oracle. Rhea stood in front of a statue of the Oracle by herself. Her hands cupped together as she held her head down. 

Finally, Ravii thought.

Ravii walked beside her, looking up at the statue of Salem. Personally, he hated it. He loathed Salem, hated the entire family... but he would behave. Keeping his mouth shut for the sake of "peace."

“You danced beautifully. No one has ever been able to keep up with me like that.” Ravii spoke up softly. Rhea gasped, flinching at his sudden presence.  

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Ravii frowns as he looks down at her.  

She shook her head, laughing a bit, “No, it’s okay... I was so focused on my prayers to our Oracle.” Turning her head to look up at Ravii, she smiled gently.  

“You’re fun to dance with... I’m glad you joined me.” Rhea began to walk away from the statue, motioning her head to make Ravii follow her.  

Without any hesitation, the Glacian King followed her down an alleyway. More music was playing even in the alley, Rhea took Ravii’s hand and dragged him along. 

There they danced without the kingdom’s eyes on them until nightfall. Sneaking away further and further away from the people. 

Talking on equal terms, learning about one another. His smile never left the entire time, listening to all her stories, her tales. Her likes and dislikes. How she came to be one of the mages for Layla herself. 

After hours, Dima spots the silhouette of the Glacian. He began to panic seeing he had lost the King within mere moments hours ago.

... however, when he drew closer to the shore of this isle, he paused. 

There he was; the King and the woman he danced with before sitting by the shore, hand in hand. Their heads resting against each other. 

Dima took a step back and grinned.

Leaving the two alone. 

[dragonmasterhiccup]

Seeing him shift the conversation elsewhere, Freya crossed her arms with a raised brow, "Mhm. Things have changed...all because of your crash landing with Toothless, may I remind you." She held back from snorting, remembering the incident, "I mean, you managed to singlehandedly destroy a whole sea stack, which you're lucky I didn't mention anything of to anyone, by the way."

Scoffing lightly at his answer, she kept her arms folded as she stared at him with a flat expression, "Stoick the Vast not knowing what's happening on this island? Especially with his own son? Hm, we'd be lucky if he doesn't already know our secret plan.." She tapped her arm at the thought of him, out of all people, discovering their fake relationship, and it brought a shiver down her spine. She managed to catch glimpses of what the Chief looked like when he was angry, mostly with Hiccup, and she did not want to be the purpose of it.

With a contemplating expression, she spoke out her predictions of what might happen if Ragnar truly accepted that Hiccup was her supposed 'boyfriend', "Well, if he willingly invites you over to dinner, then you've gotten a massive achievement."

Blaze was quick to run towards the log, readying himself for another round of tug of war, and he clamped his teeth down on the wood, his tail wagging in excitement and determination.

Freya merely lifted her chin at Hiccup's response, watching as he began to take steps away towards the dragons. "Yeah, well... that was a couple of minutes ago, Mr. Nice Guy!" She sighed in defeat, realizing she did admit that he was kind, which left her to stubbornly kick the grass, reminding herself not to be so...hasty in sharing all of her thoughts. That was just her nature, after all.

Picking up her sword to secure it in it's leather covering, she gave a brief whistle, motioning her hand for Blaze, "C'mon, buddy, we need to go see Ayla!" She chuckled at the Sand Wrath as he looked a bit disappointed that he had to abandon the log, but as he heard Ayla's name, his ears perked up and he bounded over towards his rider with a delighted grin. Freya extended out her hand, grabbing a hold of the saddle as he became closer and hauled herself up while he ran by. "I think more ready than you!"

With that, Blaze continued to sprint forward before he opened his wings, vigorously flying up in the air with a gleeful roar.

---------------

As they became closer to her hut, Freya's eyes managed to catch her younger sister walking up towards their home, causing a faint smile to appear on her lips. Blaze seemed to get more joyful seeing her as well, so he dived down towards their hut, landing with grin.

Ayla flinched at the sudden arrival, nearly stumbling back, but quickly recovered once she realized who it was. "Oh, geez, you scared me!" Turning her gaze onto the Chief's son, she almost dropped the jars of herbs she was carrying, "Hiccup!" She squealed in excitement, going up to jump around him as soon as he had gotten off of Toothless, "Hiccup! Hiccup! Hiccup!" She paid no mind to the jars at that point, too thrilled at his presence.

Meanwhile, Freya dismounted Blaze with narrowed eyes directed towards Hiccup, silently proving her point, and she hoped her thoughts could be easily read by her expression: 'See, Mr. Nice guy!' Clearing her throat, she folded her arms, slowly tapping against them as she spoke, "Uhm, hello?" She watched as her sister paused her gamboling, quickly turning her head and taking lengthy steps to where she stood.

"Hi!" Ayla smiled with a hint of mischief, knowing she could easily get on her big sister's nerves. "Did ya have a good time with your new boyfriend?" She cooed, tightly hugging the jars as she mockingly wiggled her shoulders, grinning when she noticed a faint color of red dust over her cheeks. "Ah, so you did!" She giggled trying to run away as she felt the atmosphere shift, silently telling her that she was probably about to be grabbed.

Her attempt to do so was abruptly brought to a complete failure as Freya swiftly wrapped her arms around her shoulders, making sure she also didn't drop the jars, "No, nope! You're not running away this time!" She lifted one of her hands and ruffled Ayla's brunette hair in the way she disliked, "You can't just say something like that and think you'll get away with it!" She yelped as her sisters head suddenly shot up, and although it wasn't as aggressive as she would've expected, it still slightly hurt, allowing the perfect distraction for Ayla to be free.

As if nothing happened, the energetic young girl waltzed up to Hiccup yet again, enthusiastically tapping the jar of herbs, "Sooo, what's up? Did you kiss Fey yet?" Her stare didn't waver even as Freya nearly choked out in shock, still recovering from the painful hit her chin had taken.

"What's that matter with you?" Freya's voice was strained, as though she hadn't drunk water in a while, causing her to clear her throat and stomp up to Ayla, instantly taking her attention as she continued, "We're here because we need you to help us with..something.." She hesitated at first, glancing at Hiccup with a dubious glint in her eyes before she explained her concerns about tomorrow. Once she was finished, she looked at her younger sister with a more earnest expression, "I need to be able to..give you some sort of..signal, or something, to let you know that I need your help in getting me out of there..just in case."

Ayla slowly nodded, registering the whole plan in her mind, "So... You're just scared? But you're never--" She was quick to stop what she was originally going to say by the small defensive glare her older sister gave her, causing her to go in a different route with her choice of words, "Okay...uh, you could...look at me in a certain way so I know you wanna leave? One that I know is different from your usual serious face." She tapped the jar, and idea coming as she did so, "Oh! I know! Maybe you can tap your leg too! Cause you usually do that on your arm, so I wouldn't notice a big difference.."

Freya tried to hide the growing embarrassment that was steadily begining to cling onto her, lightly sighing as she muttered: "I get it.. I tap a lot.."

"Right, but how was I supposed to know you were already on that island, or that my invention would fail?"

He shrugged casually. "Maybe Loki was messing up my day."

Or maybe it was fate...

At her words, an image flashed in his mind, of his father's anger once he'd learned the truth.

Hiccup's eyes widened. "Oh, no, no, if he knew, he, he wouldn't hide it. He'd come after me, specifically...after all, it was my idea. If this does get out...I should take full blame, not you."

Invited to dinner... "Do you suggest I actually try to beat him, or do just well enough to be a challenge, but allow him to ultimately win? What's the best strategy, here?"

Grinning, he pointed at her. "Regardless of when it was, you did still say it!" Starting to turn around, he stopped, facing her again. "Oh, and for what it's worth? I think you're pretty nice, too."

Hiccup raised his brows, impressed, as Freya did the exact same thing he had: mounting a running dragon. "I think you might be right!"

Toothless lifted them into the air, following Blaze to Freya's hut.

----------------

Hiccup landed only a moment after Freya, barely dismounting before Ayla ran up to him.

A wide smile on his face, he happily greeted her. "Ayla! Hey, how're you doing? Oh! Careful, you don't want to drop any of those jars...here, can I lend you a hand?"

As he offered to take some of the jars for her, his gaze met Freya's, and winced slightly at her expression.

To him, it very clearly said 'I told you so!'.

He stayed by Toothless as the sisters spoke, though he could feel his ears burn red at Ayla's teasing Freya...even more so when Ayla confirmed that Freya had indicated she had had a good time with Hiccup.

Since his back was turned, he hadn't seen Freya grab Ayla, though he'd heard it.

Hearing Freya's yelp, he quickly spun around, concerned for a moment only to find that she was just fine.

Pulling a jug of water out of his saddlebag, he took a drink as Ayla approached him again.

Her question caused him to choke on his water, turning his back to the girl as he coughed, trying to get over the shock of that question.

Face red, he strained out, "Wh-what? Ayla...we've only been together for a day, it's, it's a little soon for that, isn't it?"

Coughing twice more through his elbow, he cleared his throat, somewhat back to normal.

At least Freya seemed just as shocked at the question, too.

As Freya told Ayla of their plan, it gave Hiccup a few more minutes to fully recover, though he wasn't sure he ever would...

Kiss Freya?

He kissed her forehead at the Great Hall earlier, but that was different, she had just kissed his hand, so...

But...kiss her?

They were in a fake relationship. He doubted he'd ever get the chance to, as he wouldn't without Freya giving him some sign, some signal that it was okay.

But...what if it did happen?

Well...he'd just have to make sure it was a good one.

Turning his attention back to Ayla and Freya, he walked closer, joining them.

It was getting dark, now. Sunset had turned into dusk, and soon they'd need torches to see each other.

"So, you'll do it? You'll help us?"

[howyouloveyourdragon]

tldr; my next series to binge because i swear i didn't mean to get hurt and invested this hard

“Avy jorrāelan, vēzos qēlossās ñuho”, Aemond whispered against the shell of your ear. I love you, my sun and stars.

already giving me high hopes, i love when writers add little nicknames between pre-established characters, it feels so much more real ily for this

a stark contrast to the weight of the emotion held within the depths of Aemond’s lilac coloured eye as he gazed upon you.

oh shiiiittt the way that this was written i just–

“I wish I knew what you were saying when you speak to me in your mother tongue,” you admitted wistfully. A quiet “mmm” rumbled its way through Aemond’s chest as he bumped his nose against yours. “One day I will teach you.” He promised.

oml i love when writers talk about this because valyrian isn't understandable most times to reader and i feel like it would be something so vulnerable and personal to aemond considering his upbringing ah im talking too much rn but yes! love that detail so much

Truthfully, confessing his feelings and deepest desires to you was far easier when you couldn’t comprehend his words.

EXACTLY WHAT I MEANT YES

You gasped, arching up into his body as his knee pushed upwards to part your thighs, nudging against your most intimate of areas.

oh?

“Skori iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys eminna jemome.” When you are my wife I will have all of you.

i swear––

“I made this for you,” you offered, outstretching your hands to present what was held within them. Aemond’s mouth had hung agape in wonder. An intricate needlepoint of his beloved dragon was stitched into the fabric. Every minute detail of her captured skillfully in thread.

reader >>>>>

He’d kept the needlepoint and to this day it was still one of his most treasured possessions.

i can just imagine him putting it on display, being so proud of himself for once now that he knows someone sees him claiming vhagar as a good thing too

From that point onwards, he’d found any excuse to be close to you. Sharing his favourite books with you, inviting you to watch him train with the sword, asking you to join him when he went on rides with Vhagar. Your presence was intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough.

SWEET BABY BOY

he’d reached timidly for your hand “Kostilus shijetra nyke.” Please forgive me.

okay but what if he's saying it in high valyrian cause he's ashamed oh god im gonna cry someone hug this bby boy

His heart had soared at how tightly you’d gripped his hand. “Kostilus māzigon arlī naejot nyke” he’d said softly as the maester applied ointment to your scraped knee. Please come back to me.

i wasn't made for this it hurts bby it hurts

Aemond sat snugly behind you, arms circling your waist.

please he's probably too anxious to let go

hiding his face in your neck.

i don't need to explain anything about my next sentence–

this is so aemond

it just is

“Ah, yes!” he smiled, snatching up his wine goblet, “A toast! To my darling daughter and her betrothal to Jason Lannister!”

i'm sorry what?

“Foolish girl,” he chastised, “You can’t remain a ward of House Targaryen forever and we need to strengthen our allies for Aegon’s claim to the throne. Your marriage to House Lannister will bring them on side.”

I BEG TO DIFFER BITCH

“But…” he stopped, thinking over his next words carefully, he’d never said them aloud before, at least not in the common tongue, “I’m in love with her, mother. I had hoped to marry her. “I know, sweet boy”, Alicent said sympathetically, grasping his forearms in a tender gesture of comfort, “But she is betrothed to someone else.”

Aemond, I can’t marry Jason fucking Lannister. Please, we can run away together?” You parted from him, looking at him questioningly when his arms didn’t move to wrap around you. “Aemond?" “You have to marry him” he said, not meeting your gaze.

i would beat this man up and i truly mean that

“For the good of the family”. Then why did he feel like he was dying?

STOP WHY WOULD YOU AFFECT ME LIKE THIS IT HURTS

The Shielded Heart - Part One

Part two Warnings: Smut, Angst Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Aemond is yours and you are his, but what happens when you're both forced to choose between duty and true love?

“Avy jorrāelan, vēzos qēlossās ñuho”, Aemond whispered against the shell of your ear. I love you, my sun and stars. The fingertips of his left hand traced the line of your jaw softly, as he stared down at you, supporting his weight above you with his right.

You giggled, the grass of the hillside you lay upon soft against your back, a stark contrast to the weight of the emotion held within the depths of Aemond’s lilac coloured eye as he gazed upon you. You held the prince close to you, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist, while the fingers of the other toyed lazily with the clasps on his tunic. “I wish I knew what you were saying when you speak to me in your mother tongue,” you admitted wistfully.

A quiet “mmm” rumbled its way through Aemond’s chest as he bumped his nose against yours. “One day I will teach you.” He promised.

Truthfully, confessing his feelings and deepest desires to you was far easier when you couldn’t comprehend his words. The thought of telling you his entire world held you at its center, and entertaining the possibility that you may not feel the same, made his heart twist painfully in his chest. It was more than he could endure. And so praises and fond declarations were uttered without understanding during your many trysts.

You gasped, arching up into his body as his knee pushed upwards to part your thighs, nudging against your most intimate of areas.

Capturing your lips in a searing kiss, Aemond trailed his hand from your jaw to cup your breast through your bodice. “Jaelan ao” he muttered against your lips. I want you. He was desperate to have you fully; mind, soul and body, yet he wouldn’t dare defile you outside of wedlock. He’d kissed, tasted and touched every part of your body, yet never attempted to breach your maidenhood, despite your urgent and wickedly tempting pleas for him to do so every time you found yourselves alone together.

“Aemond, please,” you whined piteously, grinding down against his thigh, desperate for any kind of release. “I don’t give a shit about my virtue!”

“Then you are lucky that I do”, he purred against the skin of your neck, his tongue laved along the soft skin of your throat, “Skori iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys eminna jemome.” When you are my wife I will have all of you.

It had never been a doubt in Aemond’s mind that the pair of you would one day be married. He’d loved you for as long as he could remember. You were sent as a ward by your house when you were a child, a playmate for his younger sister Helaena, but he’d instantly been enamoured by you. You were the only person besides his mother and sister to show him kindness when his own nephews and brother presented him with a pig in place of a dragon as a cruel joke. You didn’t treat him any differently following his disfigurement at the hands of Lucerys. Looking back, falling in love with you had been the easiest thing in the world. Actually saying the words aloud, however, proved rather more difficult.

He remembered fondly, a moon’s turn after he’d claimed Vhagar and lost his eye, you’d approached him shyly, a piece of fabric clutched tightly in your hands.

“I made this for you,” you offered, outstretching your hands to present what was held within them.

Aemond’s mouth had hung agape in wonder. An intricate needlepoint of his beloved dragon was stitched into the fabric. Every minute detail of her captured skillfully in thread.

“You made this? For me?” he’d asked, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

You’d nodded, smiling sweetly. “I hope you like it.”

“Nyke jorrāelagon ziry, Avy jorrāelan.” He’d whispered. I love it, I love you. He’d kept the needlepoint and to this day it was still one of his most treasured possessions.

From that point onwards, he’d found any excuse to be close to you. Sharing his favourite books with you, inviting you to watch him train with the sword, asking you to join him when he went on rides with Vhagar. Your presence was intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough.

All of this you did eagerly. You longed to be near to Aemond and cherished any time you spent together. As your friendship grew, so did your feelings for the one eyed prince.

Your young fragile heart had broken upon finding out that Aegon had taken Aemond to a pleasure house in the Silk Streets on his thirteenth name day. It was as though a dirty blemish had been placed upon your friendship, ugly and glaring.

“That is so…so disgusting, Aemond,” you’d whispered, not trusting your voice not to crack should you try to speak with more volume. Your eyes burned with unshed tears. You hadn’t known it then but the fiery ache that burned deep within your chest was an acrid mixture of jealousy and betrayal, a ghost of it should have been me displaying itself as disapproval.

“I didn’t want to do it, Aegon made me”, he’d retorted, his tone laced with hurt, he’d reached timidly for your hand “Kostilus shijetra nyke.” Please forgive me.

“I can’t understand you!” you’d shouted, jerking away from him and back to your chambers, tears flowing freely.

You hadn’t spoken for three days after that and your absence made Aemond utterly miserable. He’d have burned that wretched whorehouse to the ground if only to see you smile again.

He’d happened upon you on one of the spiral stone staircases in the Red Keep, clutching your knee and sniffling.

“What happened?” he asked, full of concern as he stooped to look at your tear stained face.

“I slipped,” you hiccupped through tears, “My knee…I…”

He’d gently coaxed your hands away, gingerly lifting your skirts to inspect the injured appendage. A nasty looking scrape, bright red and angry looking immediately made itself apparent.

“I’ll help you to the maester”, he’d offered, holding a hand out to you.

His heart had soared at how tightly you’d gripped his hand. “Kostilus māzigon arlī naejot nyke” he’d said softly as the maester applied ointment to your scraped knee. Please come back to me.

You’d pulled Aemond into a tight hug after he’d walked you back to your chambers. “Thank you”, you’d whispered to him.

Your friendship had resumed as normal without issue from that point, until a few days after your sixteenth name day.

The icy winds tousled your hair wildly, your stomach flipping as Vhagar soared above the clouds. You sat astride her saddle, holding tightly to her reigns. Aemond sat snugly behind you, arms circling your waist. A sudden jolt had made you squeal, you turned your face back towards Aemond, a beaming smile tugging at your lips. You’d bumped noses, not realising just how close he was to you and he’d pressed a tentative kiss to your lips. You’d parted, sharing a longing stare, before diving back in, this time needier and filled with inexperienced passion as his large hand cupped your cheek possessively.

Your relationship had blossomed that day. Your easy friendship became hushed whispers, giggles and kisses stolen in empty corridors. Your rides on Vhagar took you to isolated spots where you could explore and enjoy each other’s bodies unhindered.

You’d managed to keep your love affair a secret, although Aegon had offered a knowing smirk each time he’d seen you and Aemond heading away from the Red Keep in your riding gear. Aemond wanted to slap the look from his older brother’s face. He knew nothing. Aemond would never treat you with the brazen disrespect that Aegon reserved for Helaena and his countless whores.

It was a ride on Vhagar that had brought you to this grassy hillside, laying in each other’s arms.

Your eyes grew heavy with the lateness of the afternoon, as the sun began its slow descent downwards.

“We should go back”, you said softly, pecking your lover on the lips.

“Jaelan naejot umbagon hae bisa va moriot”, he mumbled petulantly, hiding his face in your neck. I want to stay like this always.

“Aemond!” you scolded playfully, nudging his leg with your foot.

“Fine, fine!” he finally relented, untangling from your embrace and standing, offering a hand to help you up.

You both dressed and mounted Vhagar. It was almost dark by the time you reached the Red Keep. Consciously, the pair of you parted to keep a distance deemed suitable as you entered the main hall.

“Father?!” you said shocked, as the familiar figure rose from the table to greet you.

“My beloved daughter”, he smiled, reaching out to take your hands in his, “I had hoped you’d be here when I arrived, alas I have had to wait. I have exciting news for you.”

Your heart thumped heavily in your chest as he spoke. Since you’d become a ward of the Targaryen/Hightower household your father had rarely visited. You’d wager that your definition of “exciting news” would differ greatly from his.

“But first, perhaps a bath? I can smell you’ve been on dragon back!” he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose.

You looked worriedly at Aemond as your departed from the hall. His eye was downcast, but the look of concern etched across his features was unmistakable to you.

Dinner was being served as you emerged from your chambers, freshly washed and changed into a new gown. You felt nauseated as you pushed your food around your plate. When the idle chatter around the table became too much for you to bear, you laid down your fork, turning to your father.

“You said you had news, father?”

“Ah, yes!” he smiled, snatching up his wine goblet, “A toast! To my darling daughter and her betrothal to Jason Lannister!”

Your mouth fell agape as your blood ran cold. You’d stopped breathing. Your eyes instantly found Aemond’s, the look of shock and upset in his bright purple iris mirrored your exact feelings.

“Father, no! I don’t want this!” you protested, trying to keep your voice level and failing miserably.

“Foolish girl,” he chastised, “You can’t remain a ward of House Targaryen forever and we need to strengthen our allies for Aegon’s claim to the throne. Your marriage to House Lannister will bring them on side.”

It was apparent there was nothing you could say to sway the decision that had been made. The silence around the table was deafening, as all eyes were upon you, awaiting a reaction.

“I see…” you said slowly, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave, I’m suddenly feeling unwell.”

The chair legs scraped loudly against the flagstones as you stood, walking swiftly from the hall without looking back.

“Mother, did you know about this?” Aemond questioned Alicent. He’d immediately sought her out once dinner was over, desperate for answers regarding your sudden betrothal.

She eyed him carefully, wringing her hands at the worried lines etched into her youngest son’s brow. “I did” she said simply.

“How can you let this happen?!” he demanded.

“I have no daughters to offer House Lannister, as you well know”, she sighed, absent mindedly picking her nails, “Helaena is married to Aegon. The next best thing we could offer is a ward of our house.”

“But…” he stopped, thinking over his next words carefully, he’d never said them aloud before, at least not in the common tongue, “I’m in love with her, mother. I had hoped to marry her.”

“I know, sweet boy”, Alicent said sympathetically, grasping his forearms in a tender gesture of comfort, “But she is betrothed to someone else.”

Aemond cast his eye downwards, feeling bile rise in his throat. “I have lost my eye to my nephew, both my sister and the crown to my brother and now I’m to lose the woman I love to a fucking Lannister.”

To someone who didn’t know better, Aemond’s tone would have sounded insolent and angry, however, Alicent could sense in his voice the tears he held back and her heart broke for him. “Think of your family, Aemond. I know this hurts now, but it is for the good of our family. This needs to happen. Please learn to accept it and be happy for her. It will be easier for everyone.”

Aemond nodded curtly, withdrawing his arms from her hands and exiting the room.

Your eyes felt raw from the tears you’d shed since fleeing the dinner table. You desperately craved the comfort that only Aemond could provide. None of this felt real. Once you were certain everyone in the Keep would be abed, you snuck from your room making your way to Aemond’s.

As you’d suspected he would be, Aemond was still awake. He sat in a chair in his study, obviously lost in thought as he watched the flames in the fireplace burn low.

“Aemond.” You whispered, approaching him cautiously, not wanting to startle him.

He turned to you, rising from his chair and you ran to him, clinging to him desperately.

“Aemond, I can’t marry Jason fucking Lannister. Please, we can run away together?”

You parted from him, looking at him questioningly when his arms didn’t move to wrap around you.

“Aemond?”

“You have to marry him” he said, not meeting your gaze.

“What?!” you gasped, betrayal piercing through your chest.

“For the good of the family” Alicent’s voice echoed in Aemond’s head, as he drew in a shaky breath, unable to meet the intensity of your accusatory stare.

“Please, you aren’t making any sense! I love you, Aemond. Don’t you love me?”

“Avy jorrāelan olvie hen mirros isse se vys.  Iksā ñuha prūmia.  Ziry kills nyke naejot tepagon ao bē” he murmured. I love you most of anything in the world. You are my heart. It kills me to give you up.

“Aemond?” you asked, your voice small.

Finally he looked at you, steeling himself to utter a lie that would break both your hearts. “No, I do not love you.”

The sob that ripped from your throat was like a dagger to Aemond’s chest and he had to fight every urge in his body to not run after you as you fled from him, weeping bitterly. If only he’d stayed true to his words of keeping you both on the hillside earlier that afternoon, then you’d still be his.

“For the good of the family”. Then why did he feel like he was dying?

Tag list (this is a side blog, so I cannot reply to requests for tags, I will simply edit the fic to add you, so that I remember to tag you in the next part): @munsonswrld @100layersofdaddyissues @bellameshipper @crazylokonugget @mddieeunson @crispmarshmallow

[tabibitto]

Queen of the Ashes | Dainsleif x Reader Part Two (FINAL)

part 1 here

Though his breathe was physically visible in the cold mountains that separated Liyue and Mondstat, it felt warm on his red cheeks and nose.

Dainsleif held his sword tightly in his gloved hand, a fighting stance upon the snow, feet digging into the white and soft ground as he glared at the Lawachurl in front of him. Crystal blue ice decorating his horns, knuckles and knees, snow set still upon his shoulders and messy mane. A deep growl as he puffed his chest and flexed his arms. The cold breathe of cryo making the tall, Khaenri'ahn male shake at how it bit the remaining uncovered skin on his face.

He was wet in blood that did not belong to him. It stuck to his boots and cape, dripped down the edge of his blade.

Dainsleif was foolish enough to follow an abyss herald into Dragonspine where monsters lay in every wake. Only to be led into a trap that proved difficult to wind out of.

He crouched lower to the ground, ready to swing at a moment's notice.

Except, he didn't have to.

The sound of hooves approaching froze them both in their tracks, and as the Lawachurl turned with an animalistic grunt to face the newcomer, just as quickly as his body turned did his head fly right off of it. Blood splattering. Ruining the pure and clean white snow with it's filth.

However Dain did not falter. Not until the hooded figure came into view.

It was a women. The tight black turtleneck hugging her chest area said so. She wore a cape that looked suspiciously like his own. Starred and purple on the inside. Her bare hands nearly matched it's color with how bruised they look. Either from punching a wall or a person.

She rode on a black stallion. Her hands carrying a chain that led to an arrowhead like spiked metal with a ball of what he guessed to be a pyro slime. When it swung, it's flames did too. He could only assume the strength she used to blow the head of a creature much bigger then herself with a weapon like that

The women let out a gasp as she came into view of him and dropped her weapon. Scrambling to reach him so desperately she fell off her horse and on her knees.

Through the gap her mask allowed, he could see a pair of watery, blue eyes.

Wait.

Gently, with shaking fingers she pried it off her face. And he dropped the bloody sword, stumbling backwards as a face he had not seen in 500 years stared back at him, mirroring the expression he wore in the reflection of her eyes

The face that laughed when he did something silly. The face that smiled when he started his shifts with good mornings and ended them with good nights. The face that wallowed in pleasure as he fucked her in the quiet of a night, hand placed over her mouth to avoid being punished for their crime of being in love. A queen was not to have feelings for her queensgaurd. Certainly not invite him into her bed, when she was meant to marry nobles and carry heirs that would inherit the throne she sat on.

He knew this better then anyone. And she knew that he hated it. When she would attend royal balls and political gatherings, and have to stand by like a statue. Watching with angry eyes as men came to offer her marriage, children, gold, luxury. Things he could never give her. The only thing he could give her was his company and comfort. His affections and advice when she needed it.

If she needed him at her side for advice he would be there in the blink of an eye. If she wanted his arms to hold her while she cried in stress and frustration he would without question. If she asked him, with those little puppy eyes and pink cheeks he found so adorable, to be intimate with her, he was already undressing them both.

He was there at her beck and call. His sword was hers his life was hers, his heart was hers forever and ever.

As much as the simplicity of what he could offer as a common man who worked at the Palace of Khaenri’ah, protecting the queen at all hours of the day. Compared to the riches men who sought her power and wealth, his queen claimed that what he thought was so little in comparison to greater men, she saw as the biggest gift anyone could offer.

Of course, he understood her side in this. Emotional trust and love didnt quite compare to material things. Yet sometimes Dainsleif couldn’t help but get…a little jealous and insecure he couldn’t provide the financial stability and wealth others could.

Though this never bothered his sweetheart. She always claimed no matter who would want her hand, he would always have her heart. For this, the comfort and love she gave him to reciprocate what he tried his hardest to give, he would always be indebted to her.

You can only imagine the heartache. When even the protection he swore many years ago when she first was crowned Queen of Khaenri’ah. Could not be given as he held her under crumbling ruins. Could only hold her crying form as the people he too was meant to serve were burned and killed outside the broken entrance.

Could only comfort and make her final moments easier then what many had, until death did they part.

He tried. He really did.

Dainsleif tried to get her away but there was no escape for anyone on that land. He failed his duty in protecting his queen and love. All he could have hoped for was to make her grief less while they waited, helpless for her to be killed for wrongs she tried to right. For being born on the wrong side of the ocean and being unable to control the actions of every human in Khaenri’ah

An impossible thing to ask. He had told her

And for 500 years did he try to make himself believe he did make her death more merciful and kind. When he had woken up in the ruins of the land he once called home and gaurded his queen in. With her body gone, and the bodies and blood of the dead and cursed left behind as history of what once was.

So many times did he try to join his love in the afterlife, knowing she was dead. And could only wander, seek revenge, live until he couldnt. Hunt down the abyss and search for answers. Clear ones.

And yet, here he stood, inches away from the face he had started to forget as time took his memory little by little. Her eyes the same tearful ones as that dreadful day. Except. They held joy he had not seen in so long. They held his own reflection. And he could see tears on him he did not feel.

Dainsleif cast aside the bag he carried slung across his shoulder and tackled the poor women to the ground. Her legs making way for his body to settle between them, wrapping around his hips as she clung to him. Shaking and crying in silence before letting out a loud inhale that broke into a sob.

He could only shakily shush her through his own tears. Just as that day.

Except it was so longer goodbye. It was hello.

A reunion he dreamed of and knew it could never be more then that.

A dream.

One that came true now it seems as he cradled his queens trembling body as she clung to him, repeating with perfect accent the mother tongue he hadnt even spoken himself in so long. Damn near forgetting the language he grew with after 500 years of it not proving any use.

“Your Alive..Your alive your alive your alive” she cried out. Less to him, and more to convince herself this was real as she buried her face into his shoulder, mumbling the same two words over and over until her voice cracked into a whisper from soreness

He sat up with her still attached to him, rocking her on the snow as he made no noise while his tears ran like angry rivers.

At the same time did they part and took each others face in their cold hands.

Dainsleif let out a weak smile and reached down to wipe the sticky wetness between the space of her top lip and nose that came from her nostrils. He saw her eyes widen in embarrassment and immediately swung her head away, which he followed, making her swing it the other way to avoid him seeing the obvious red on her face with a soft whine of protest.

He let out a chuckle, a shaky one at that as he stood up and wordlessly sat her back on the horse.

“W-Wait Don’t Leave—”

She didn’t get to finish as he was already gripping either end of the leather saddle and hopped on right behind her, gripping her waist gently yet firmly.

“Don’t worry my queen, im not leaving you ever again. Not until we actually both die in each others arms.” He whispered to her chuckling in bittersweetness.

She seemed hurt for a small moment and he tilted his head a little in concern.

“I am no longer Queen of Khaenri’ah Ser Dainsleif.” She said both playfully and sadly, using his own former title which, if it was an object. It would have collected mold and dust long ago. Probably already withered away.

The former monarch sighed, glancing into the cold and white of Dragonspine, her eyes flickering from the ruins to the camp of hilichurls. Her former subjects.

Unrecognizable. Different. Their past identities had died along with their country. Now they could merely count the days until their new and dreadful faces withered away too. By time or by sword. Just like she was.

“I am merely a Queen of the Ashes”