#the tears in her eyes before will summons her 😭

[warningsine]

[ladyempty]

Yandere Maegor, Daemon and Aegon I reaction to Reader running away and marrying someone else and having children?? Please 😭😭

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. | ° | English is not my first language. |

Aegon I

Aegon Targaryen I is the definition of a conqueror, courageous, intelligent and ambitious, with a friendly and captivating personality, easily lovable and admirable, but with few close friends. A certain air of enigma surrounded his figure, making people try to unravel him, attracted like moths by his light of monarchical dignity.

The king was comfortable and accustomed to sycophants, women dragging themselves for crumbs, or simply a single night in his bed. He was unfamiliar with something denied to him. He had "conqueror" in his name for a reason that went far beyond the submission of the other lords.

So it came as a complete shock when he was so bluntly denied when he approached you at one of the numerous banquets hosted by the royal family. At first, Aegon couldn't even process it, the features remained the same with a gentle smile and analyzing eyes and no words uttered. Like a person who was suddenly punched and in the first few seconds didn't understand or simply didn't know how to react. He just narrowed his purple eyes and watched you leave in an elegant bow.

The first time he was seriously denied, you hadn't done it to pique his interest, but rather to preserve your own honor, not wanting to be just another king's case knowing that he would return to Rhaenys at the end of the day. He admired this. If his plans were to push him away, you were not successful, you only made a dangerous obsession settle in your being.

He began to pursue you subtly, with gallant and courteous gestures, he urgently wanted to erase the first impression you had of him. Forcing the Targaryen to reveal his personality beyond the superficial, rambling for countless hours about some common interest and constantly summoning his presence, whether to read to him while I work or simply enjoy his warm presence.

And when his barriers were still not lowered, the king had to resort to more drastic measures, asking for her hand in marriage and making it clear that he would not accept being denied.

You would be softer when you were a wife and had duties towards him. The conqueror thought wrongly. Never in a thousand lifetimes did he expect you to run away. As soon as he found out, Aegon simply went crazy, the image made up of himself falling down the moment he threatened to destroy the entire seven kingdoms again if he didn't get you back.

Stone by stone, leaf by leaf. Everything was meticulously investigated by the countless guards spreading even through the most forgotten places by the gods. The Targaryen king became somewhat paranoid and easily irritated by his disappearance, not even Rhaenys could calm him down or change his mind. It was two years of pure torment.

Ah... When he finally found you in a small house in pentos... Married and obviously pregnant... It was like the world was open beneath your feet again. A loving feeling of betrayal. How dare you? Did you think that pathetic man could love you more than him?! How stupid.

He coldly killed her husband and none of her tears and pleas could change his mind. His heart was partially darkened by his betrayal. He won't forget anytime soon, you'll have to regain his trust to have the slightest amount of freedom. Countless guards will follow you closely, if you are even allowed to leave your quarters.

And your son? Don't worry, Aegon will assume paternity of the child even if it comes with rumors about having deflowered you before the wedding. It didn't matter. He just wouldn't let you mother a bastard or have that other man as a part of your life. Aenys was his heir anyway.

Maegor, The Cruel

You were certainly a very unlucky person to have caught the attention of the Targaryen king who was called cruel. You probably met at an event organized by him to celebrate one of his conquests, reaffirming his power and sovereignty as king, or you were one of his wives' ladies-in-waiting.

Whether you were from a big house, small house or even a commoner. It didn't matter. You were his the moment the king laid eyes on your enchanting figure.

Maegor was a man of few feelings, he didn't truly love any of his wives, it was lust mixed with the rational thought of creating heirs. But you were different, there was something special that made Maegor feel a bubbling sensation in his chest, a pleasant and addictive warmth like he had never felt before. It was something unfamiliar, one that he felt slightly hesitant to demonstrate or how to handle. But he just knew he wanted you and he would have you. At any cost.

Maegor was far from the definition of courteous, he knew little about the gallant arts or gentle love. Therefore, he had little knowledge about the courtship, the little he knew was from his mother's advice, who only knew about these things from the poets who surrounded Rhaenys.

Either way, he is not discreet. He doesn't even make an effort to appear less intimidating than he is. His eyes are fixed on you no matter the moment, his intimidating and darkening presence looming over you like a shadow. Once he even gave him a white fur coat, an animal he himself killed. It was his way of showing his interest. Something raw and rustic, without words, just proves to be worthy of you.

Either way, he wouldn't wait long. The moment he gets tired of waiting and the itch that grows in him is not relieved, he will attack. Demanding her hand in marriage from her, leaving no room for disagreement. He didn't expect you to run away in the middle of the night... Stupid little bird. Did you think he wouldn't come after you?

The man flew into a rage the moment he found out, destroying everything and everyone in his path, no matter if they were his wives, servants or important masters. Everyone should pay for his blinding rage. He turned the seven kingdoms into hell looking for you. A thick layer of blood, smoke, ash and corpse covering every corner of the kingdom.

And when he found you... Ah, dumb little bird, did he think he could hide for another year? Never.

He killed her husband the moment he saw the man, not even bothering to give him a painful death to pay for his crimes. He was as furious as a bull at the sight of any trace of red. He never thought about seriously hurting you, but he would have to punish you in a certain way to put you in your place. But his angry thoughts strayed the moment he caught sight of her swollen belly with a child.

A baby, that could and should be his. It was someone else's... It was an unforgivable betrayal. He could never fully forgive you. He would never forget or leave you alone for even a second.

He wouldn't kill the child, he would keep you away until you gave birth and then pretend that the child belonged to his lady-in-waiting, even if it was his child behind closed doors. It was a good way to keep tabs on you. Do you love your child? So better obey, you don't want something bad to happen, right?

Do not worry, dear. If you want to be a mother and wife so much, who would Maegor be to deny you that? You would be two things very soon.

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon was never a man to love madly, he fell in love a few times. He rolled from bed to bed without a fixed commitment, just looking for momentary fun and vague pleasures. He indulged in his desires without shame. Bad luck for you to have been so captivating. He was hooked on you the moment their eyes met his.

Any slight affection he ever had for other women and men was forgotten. For you he felt love. Real love that went beyond lust. After all, he had never touched you intimately and he already had such overwhelming feelings.What was it if not love? You were his only thought.The first thought when waking up and the last when going to bed.

And Daemon had no intention of hiding his affection. His hands constantly find their way to your shoulders or start from your waist, a touch that lingers on a simple handshake and a look so intense that it would make anyone else tremble in fear.

As expected, rumors were created questioning his honor and how terrible the prince was. When his father went to confront him, Daemon just smiled mischievously and just said he would marry you. To everyone's great surprise, after all, the Targaryen had demonstrated his unhappiness during his first marriage.

But you weren't like that woman uglier than a sheep. You were perfect in every aspect and in the very definition of the word. Something to be admired every day.

It was a strong, stunning blow when you disappeared during the night, your maids only finding cold, wrinkled sheets when they went to wake you up that morning.

Where in the seven hell were you? He would find you... You couldn't run away.

He destroyed, killed, tortured and threatened. He spent days flying with Caraxes to every corner of the seven kingdoms just to find you. Unsuccessfully. A long year without having your favorite addiction... You.

He drowned himself in e wine while you were gone, nursing a bubbling rage and constantly exploding at everyone, scaring even Viserys, who thought he had seen the worst side of his brother.

But nothing lasts forever. He found you. He invaded your home in Essos without hesitation. He didn't kill your husband at first because his stunned mind simply refused to understand that you had betrayed him in such a disgusting way.

But the moment she saw the little newborn baby in her arms. He understood everything.The black sister ran through her pathetic husband without mercy, blood spatter staining his robes in small crimson droplets.The cold, darkened eyes like never before were directed at you.

For a moment you feared for the baby's life, placing the small bundle against your chest to protect it.

"Don't worry, I would never hurt our son." He smiles as he says each word slowly. He would legitimize that child as his and didn't care what he would say. A good way to keep you behaved and not tarnish his bloodline with bastards. Obviously he would love his own children more with you, but he wouldn't show it so openly. You're lucky the child looks so much like you…

[shadowdaddies]

Ready for another azriel request??? I’m rereading the series right now so I’m BEGGING for some azriel action😭 I was thinking something a little angsty maybe azriel and the reader (obviously mated) get into an argument or he snaps at her or something like that (you can decide) and so she starts to distance herself and one day she gets attacked or kidnapped or something (again you can decide) and azriel is panicking and stuff. I just really want some groveling or begging or something idk. Ending with fluff obviously. Sorry all of my requests are long and detailed😭 thank you thooo❤️

hey love! I planned this out awhile ago but I've been busy with visiting family; thank you for the request as always💜

There With You

Azriel x Reader

warnings: reader is captured but no explicit torture, miscommunication trope

The rustling of leaves sounded to your right, hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at your hip as you and Azriel looked to the source of the noise.

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding blew from your lips at the sight of the crow landing in the tree, dried Autumn leaves drifting to the ground beneath the creature.

Allowing your hand to drop from your weapon, you continued your walk through the wood, the distraction of the bird causing your misstep. 

The branch underneath your boot cracked in an echo that seemed to silence the rest of the forest, the world growing eerily quiet around you for a moment. Azriel stood still as stone to your left, hazel eyes simmering with something akin to anger.

“You need to be more careful,” he murmured, voice as soft and cutting as the cool wind that whipped through the air. Holding back the sigh that aimed to leave your lips, you hissed through your teeth, gaze slicing to meet your mate’s. 

“I stepped on a branch, Azriel,” you retorted, face growing heated at the awareness of how something as small as a snapping branch could blow your mission. Nonetheless, the condescension with which Az was speaking to you was enough to lead you to dig your heels in for this argument. “A cracked stick in the forest isn’t going to summon the entire Autumn Court,” you muttered bitterly.

A scarred hand took your arm in a gentle but firm grip. “You know well that we do not need to summon the High Court. A farmer looking to gain favor with Beron could see us. That is all it would take to destroy the mission...” he trailed off, removing his hand to drag it over his tired features. 

“I told Rhys this was a bad strategy. He knows how much more difficult you make this,” your mate grumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stopped abruptly.

Azriel’s eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly as his head turned to you. Before he could speak, you raised a stiff hand, pausing him in his own tracks. “I make this difficult? I didn’t realize what a burden I am, Azriel.” The words spewed from you in a fountain of anger, welling up inside, hands clenched at your sides.

“Let’s go in different directions. We’ll cover ground more quickly, and we can find the book and get out of here... without making this anymore difficult for you,” you shot over your shoulder, shaking off the shadow that tried to keep you from walking away.

A soft huff sounded from behind you, betraying the feelings of guilt you could feel through the bond before you shut it off. Drawing your dagger, you angrily whacked at any branches and leaves that dared cross your path, stomping through the wood in search of the book Eris had taken from his father’s study for you. 

Blinded by your anger, you missed the sound of soldiers being winnowed in behind you until it was too late. The rush of leaves on the wind perked your ears, but by the time that you turned to see one of the Vanserra brothers behind you with his guard, a circle of fire had engulfed you. 

Walls of flame surrounded you, a dome of heat drawing the oxygen from your lungs as black spotted your vision. Opening the bond with your little remaining strength, you felt Azriel’s panic before losing consciousness. 

~~~

You awoke in a damp room, dark save for the flickering fae light in the center of the cell. Head pounding you force your eyes to take in the cold, wet stone, the wall to which you are chained. 

Mouth dry with thirst, your head bobs towards the creaking door, a vaguely familiar figure stepping through it. “Keep this closed. We don’t need anyone above hearing what happens in here.” Dark laughter sounded from the guards as they dutifully closed the heavy door.

The moment the bar slid into the lock, amber eyes shot to you, Eris’s voice laced with concern as he spoke. “Where is Azriel?” he demanded, a soft hand cupping your jaw as he helped you focus on him. 

Swallowing thickly, you gazed up at the flaming red hair, burning whiskey eyes that demanded an answer that you wouldn’t, couldn’t give. “We split to cover more ground quickly,” you muttered, a half-truth. “We were struggling to find the book you left for us.”

The last part came out as a hiss, Eris’s hand dropping from you as though burned by your words. Any sign of pity left his expression, the mask of Autumn Lord slipping on easily. “Of course he would struggle with such simple instructions,” he drawled, looking down at you, a cat toying with a mouse.

An exasperated huff of laughter escaped you at the male bravado. “If you could discard whatever issue exists between you two for one moment,” you shot back, “I would appreciate some assistance - perhaps some context - to our current situation.” 

Yanking on the chains for emphasis, your expression turned from teasing to paled at Eris’s grim reaction. The Lord’s lips thinned as he blew out a quiet breath, golden eyes searching the thick walls of the room before he dared to speak.

“I cannot let you escape under my watch,” he muttered, a hand running through the deep red of his hair, gears turning in his head. “Azriel knows where you are. I have asked one of my more... inept brothers, to guard you while I arrange a meeting with my father.”

Flames danced in his eyes, searing intensity reminding you of Eris’s power when he turned to you. “If any harm comes to my younger brother, be assured that your mate will regret ever crossing the boundary into my Court.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, the intensity with which Eris defended his family. Respect welled deep inside of you, breath short as you nodded. “I will keep your family safe, Eris,” you breathed, fighting the smile that tugged at your lips as his features softened under the comfort of your promise.

“Make sure your bond is open so that he can sense you,” Eris directed, turning on his heel to leave. You did as he said, opening your bond as you reached out in any direction for where Azriel might be. Eris’s steps halted for a moment, a sharp catch in his breath before he shook his head, hand lifting to knock on the cell door. 

Eris didn’t bother to look back when he strode through the archway, graceful steps leading him from the depths of your enclosure. One guard flashed his yellow teeth in a grin that sent disgust through you, your middle finger struggling to angle in response before he slammed the door.

No sooner had the dust settled from the sliding entryway than shadows swirled in front of you, Azriel materializing in the darkness. Your mate collapsed to the ground in front of you, his knees hitting stone as wings sagged behind him.

“I am so sorry,” he choked out, hazel eyes glowing with unshed tears in the dim light, “I failed you.” Your heart cleaved in two at his statement, shaking your head vigorously as you fought to keep your own emotions in check. 

“Azriel, you didn’t fail me. I am the one who left, who makes things difficult...” you swallowed at those words, shame overwhelming at the thought of holding back your mate, your Court. 

Panic was etched across Azriel’s features as he reached for your chains, regret and love flowing through the bond. “No,” he ground out, “that is not what I meant.” His forehead rested against yours, slick with sweat as the shackles broke free.

A scarred hand found your cheek, the outside world ceasing to exist as Azriel’s gaze focused on you. “I am a fool,” he murmured. “I meant to say that missions with you are difficult because you are all that I can focus on, you are all that I care about. I am the burden, because I would throw away any mission, any Court, any world to keep you safe.” 

His throat worked, voice thick as his lashes wetted with tears. “And yet I still failed you, still nearly lost you because of my own inability-“ 

Arms wrapping around him, you ignored your wrists, sore from the shackles, in favor of twining your hands at the nape of your mate’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Love and admiration flowed both ways through your connection, and despite everything, you couldn’t fight the smile you offered Azriel.

“You are not, and have never been a failure, Azriel. You are my love, my perfect mate, and I should have stayed to communicate instead of trying to prove myself to the one person who I know I don’t have anything to prove to.” 

Azriel nodded, a beautiful smile stretching across his lips as he lifted you into his arms. “You are perfect. And I am sorry that I ever let you forget it,” he whispered, sweeping you into a pool of shadows as he transported you out of the dungeons.

Once more you were surrounded by the crisp air of the Autumn Forest, the moonlight shining down on the babbling brook as you walked hand-in-hand with your mate. “We still have to find the book,” you noted, bumping Azriel’s shoulder in playful reminder.

He laughed softly, hand reaching into the side pocket of his leathers to pull out a small leather-bound journal, waving it in the air. “Found it just as I heard the Autumn soldiers,” he grimaced, eyes shuttering at the memory. 

Your hand found his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze as you leaned your head against him, quiet comfort settling over the two of you. 

“Let’s head home, then,” you whispered. “I could use a warm bath.” You felt Azriel’s lips press against your hair, strong arms scooping you up effortlessly.

Azriel’s warm breath tickled your neck, shadows dancing as the Autumn Court began to fade around you, darkness swallowing the landscape. “As long as I get to be there with you.”

[sinful-lanterns]

Extending further on our new Garden puppy reader. What about if the Chief needs to punish the assassins for attacking the other Sinners?

Just the Chief calling you to her office alone, just to lock the door behind her and send a message to the Garden women that they'll get you back when she sees their attitudes improve.

Other Sinners very quickly realizing that they can get a rise from any of the three women by targeting you instead. Coquelic refusing to spar Zoya when she has you in her lap, so the only reasonable thing to do is obvious! Zoya just snatches you from Coquelic's grip and bolts, running through the building with you slung over her shoulder and crying for Coquelic to rescue you.

Or perhaps Langley finds you in the Chief's office during one of their punishment periods. Which of course only has one thing to be done! To play on the intercom for the entire MBCC headquarters to hear, her holding you pinned beneath her and she showers compliment after praise to pull out all those adorable embarrassed noises you make.

But no matter what, no matter who messes with you or trying to take what belongs to them away. All three women will always have you back in their embrace, your tail wagging happily at just being near them. But don't forget, Puppy, they need to make sure to remind you why you belong to them and them alone.

There’s something really amusing about the Sinners playing “keep away” with you, as Coquelic, Garofano and Sumire all try to hunt them down in order to get you back 😭

Coquelic probably goes ballistic when you’re snatched away by anyone other than her assassins. So Chief, Langley, and any of the other sinners who dare snatch you away, will have to face the wrath of an angry Coquelic who’s like a spinning, small tornado of anger that’ll tear up the MBCC to get her puppy back…

nsfw under the cut

Oh and if Coquelic manages to snatch you back only to see how the other women have marked you up…? Coquelic is livid. Literally red faced and screaming as she summons Garofano and Sumire to bring you down to her cell, because she’s rebutting twice as hard for all the hickies and attention you’ve been given from the other women. You need to remember who your original owners are, no matter how many times the women in the Bureau try to play “keep away” with you 😨

Expect to be restrained onto the bed by Sumire, her shibari skills are one of the best after all, so there’d be soft, silky ribbons suspending you to the sheets, as Garofano makes quick work of slicing off your clothes. Both of those women will tend to your prep work, while Coquelic is standing off in the corner, mumbling curses to herself as you see her slide on a big, girthy strap on…

Coquelic doesn’t often use the strap (she prefers using her hands to bring you to heaven) so when she whips that cock out, you know she means business, as she’s quickly looping the straps and crawling over on top of you to mark you silly. Not like Garofano and Sumire weren’t already doing that. With Garofano sucking at your neck and Sumire fondling your tits so they’re nice and perky…

From your sex-drunk daze, you look up to see Coquelic angrily staring you down. She’s not mad at you, but her curses under her breath are enough to make you whimper in fear. You’ve never had angry sex with any of the Garden women before, so this’ll be a first as you have no idea how rough they’d go.

“Spread her legs. She’s not allowed to close them, understood?”

“Yes, master Coquelic.”

Immediately on command, Sumire pulls your right leg, while Garofano pulls your left, allowing Coquelic to have access to your glistening wet pussy, as it’s been aching to be spoiled by the fingers of your owners. Or rather, strap ons…as you see Garofano and Sumire glancing over at Coquelic’s sex toy drawer wirh want…

“Try to be a good girl as always, okay?” Coquelic huffs, glaring down at you with those intimidating crimson eyes. “I’m going to be tougher than usual…so just…brace yourself.”

It was rare for Coquelic to ever go rough on you (despite her sadistic tendencies) so you were surely in for a treat as Sumire and Garofano held you down, blushing at the cute moans you let out when Coquelic slowly pushed forward…

[the-darkestminds]

Desolate Autumn 🍂

Eris refuses his father's order to kill Lucien's lover, Jesminda, and faces severe punishment. Lucien flees the Autumn Court.

In canon, Eris states that he wasn’t present for the execution. I explored what it might have been like if he had been there. I can’t stop making my fave Vanserra brothers suffer. 😭

🍁 Eris & Lucien POV 🍁

Can also be found on ao3 here!

Hope you guys enjoy 🥹 eternally grateful to anyone who chooses to read it all the way through 🫶

——————————————————————————

Eris

Eris had long since learned to dread being summoned to his father’s throne room. He had only unpleasant memories of the place, and chose to avoid it as often as he could. As the eldest son of Autumn, that was not often enough. His footsteps echoed off the marble beneath him as he made his way through the Forest House. His mind was consumed with thoughts of last night’s patrol, the sentry who had been reported missing near Winter’s border without explanation. Eris pondered the problem as he turned the corner and the grand entrance to the throne room came into view. The arched hall was decorated with intricate carvings of golden vines, interspersed with rubies that sparkled in the afternoon light. He had always held the belief that the beauty of the Autumn Court was in stark contrast to the ugliness of the people who called it home.

Eris’s steps faltered as he entered the throne room, the scene unfolding before him. Lucien, a gag of fire between his lips, was restrained by his brothers, Jasper and Orson. He struggled against the grip they each had on his arms. A lesser faerie female was bound and on her knees before his father. Tears streamed down her face as she turned her pleading eyes towards Eris.

He stopped abruptly, his stomach sinking as understanding dawned on him as to why he had been called here. What he might be required to witness. He glanced around the room taking note of his father’s loyal sentries standing watch along the walls. His other brothers, Alix, Arden and Conall stood to the side with knowing smirks on their smug faces. Mercifully, his mother’s chair sat empty beside his father’s throne. At least she would not be here to bear witness to whatever horror was soon to unfold.

“You called?” Eris forced himself to say with a drawl. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from the lapel of his emerald green jacket. He kept his face cool and indifferent—it had become a near-permanent mask, here in his father’s court of snakes.

“Eris.” Beron’s voice thundered through the room. “We were just about to begin.” Jasper and Orson turned at his name, and both gave him a slight nod before quickly averting their eyes.

“Oh?” Eris glanced at Lucien once more, who thrashed against his brothers like a wildcat caught in a trap. His russet eyes so wide and pained as they met Eris’s from across the room. The band of fire around his mouth prevented him from speaking beyond frantic grunts and moans. Eris slid the practiced smirk on his face and tried to disguise the slight tremor in his hands as he clasped them behind his back. He tried to think of something he could say to prevent the impending violence, but his mind came up blank.

“Lucien here thinks to sully himself by marrying a lesser fae whore. He has deluded himself into believing she is a worthy match for a High Lord’s son,” Beron spat, his lip curling as he snarled in Lucien’s direction. Beron met Eris’s gaze once more and smiled viciously. “You shall eliminate the problem for me, Eris.” Beron delivered a swift and brutal kick to the female’s ribs and she curved in on herself with a pained cry. Lucien screamed.

“I am sure Lucien will come to see reason, eventually.” His smile was cold and harsh as he looked down at his youngest son.

Eris started at the command. That Beron would truly have Lucien’s lover executed in front of him…He was well acquainted with his father’s penchant for violence, but this seemed uniquely cruel, even for him. Eris knew he’d been stupid to hope his presence had been requested merely to oversee courtly business, or to deal with his ever-scheming younger brothers, always at each other’s throats. But an execution? To be carried out by Eris himself?

“No.” Eris’s heart raced. He had never once uttered that word to his father. Had not once, in his long life, disobeyed a direct order. The silence that followed was deafening. Beron jerked around at the outright refusal. His brothers gaped at him.

“What did you say to me, boy?” Beron seethed. The rage on his face was enough to send lesser males running. But Eris held his ground. He would not cross this line—would not be the one to break Lucien so thoroughly, so ruthlessly, that he might never recover from the pain and loss.

“I will play no part in this,” Eris shrugged. He fought to keep his tone measured and aloof despite the storm raging inside of him. His gut churned at the slight glint of hope he spied in Lucien’s eyes. Eris hated to give him that hope—knew that Beron would see this done with or without Eris’s involvement. Beron glared at him, and Eris held his gaze. Let it wash over him in all its fury. Seconds, maybe minutes, passed in silence. Then—

“Get out. I’ll deal with you later,” Beron sneered. Eris turned to leave and Lucien began screaming in earnest then, struggling wildly against Jasper and Orson as his other three brothers looked on with varying degrees of amusement. He screamed as if Eris had been his final hope—had come to save him from this hell he was now trapped in.

It cut Eris deep—to turn his back on Lucien and walk away. To burn that remaining sliver of hope to ash. When he reached the throne room doors, he heard his father unsheath the blade. Heard the sobs of the female on the floor. Heard as Lucien, the gag now removed, begged, “Jesminda! NO, FATHER, PLEASE! PLEASE!” And as Eris stepped into the hallway, he cringed at the wet thud that sounded as Jesminda’s head toppled to the floor, his stomach lurching in response. Lucien’s agonized shrieks rang loudly in his ears and he felt his heart splinter in two.

Eris barely made it to his chambers before he was violently sick upon the patterned carpet. With a wave of his hand he winnowed the mess away and stumbled towards the oak desk in the corner of his opulent rooms, eyes and throat burning. He had only minutes to see this through. Prayed that he was correct in thinking Beron would want Lucien to suffer for at least several days before finally ending it. Ending him. Eris found a spare bit of parchment and began hastily scrawling the urgent message to the High Lord of Spring. He did not sign it nor leave any indication of who it was from. The message vanished in a puff of smoke. He grabbed a second page, his handwriting sloppier with each frantic word he wrote. Just as the second note disappeared, there was a loud pounding on his chamber doors.

Eris knew what was coming then. He steeled himself as he opened the heavy wooden door, revealing four of his father’s most trusted guards. He did not ask them to explain themselves. Eris merely raised his chin, stepped into the hall, and closed the door behind him. His heart pounded with every step he took as the guards led him down, down, down into the coldest depths of the sprawling Forest House. Eris tried to clear his mind, tried to remain calm as they arrived in the frigid dungeons. With a deep breath in, he let himself be guided into the familiar cell. It had been worth it, he told himself. He prayed he was right.

Lucien

Lucien stirred. The first things he heard were the low cooing of a morning dove, the steady trickle of a fountain. A warm breeze that smelled of spring wrapped itself gently around him. And then he felt a throbbing pain in the back of his head. His eyes remained closed. Suddenly, memories came flooding back to him in a violent rush. Jesminda, executed by his father, the unlocked cell door, fleeing through the forest, Orson dead by his blade, and Tamlin, Jasper—The scenes flashed in his mind.

Lucien was dragged to an empty cell near the stables outside and tossed roughly to the ground. No better than a caged animal. He sat numbly in the cold, hard dirt, trying to block out the memory of Jesminda’s cries, her pleas to his father, to him, to spare her. The sound of the blade withdrawn from its sheath. The glint as his own father angled the sword back, and—The opening of the cell door shook him from his thoughts. A plate of stale bread and water was placed on the ground. As the unfamiliar sentry left, Lucien did not hear the click of the lock sliding back into place. He rose and made his way to the door on silent feet. Unlocked. He glanced down. There upon the plate, concealed beside the bread, was a dagger. He did not question his luck. He palmed the dagger and opened the door.

And then he was running. Barreling through the brisk Autumn forest. Red and gold and orange streaked by him as he sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him south. His chest heaved with every step, until he tasted blood on his tongue and his lungs burned painfully. He could hear his brothers in pursuit of him, crashing through the branches and leaves scattered about the damp forest floor. They were close–their taunting jeers sounded loudly in his ears. He blocked out their words, pushed himself to run harder and faster. The air began to warm, and the reds and golds blossomed into greens and pinks and—a deafening roar cleaved the land. Tamlin. Dumb luck, or perhaps fate, that he was here when Lucien needed him most.

The beast appeared before him in a flash of fur and sharp fangs. Lucien ducked quickly and he heard the squelch of claws stabbed through flesh. Heard Jasper howl in pain. Lucien whirled as he brought his dagger up, just as Orson slashed his axe down upon his head. Lucien twisted at the last second to dodge what was surely a death blow. A wall of flame rose up between them. He let his sorrow and rage fuel him as he pushed that fire outward towards Orson. His brother roared in pain as the white-hot fire lanced his exposed side. Arden stepped up and met Lucien’s flame with a flare of his own. Metal and fire blasted and collided. And then Lucien was moving again, twisting low, angling that dagger upwards—steel met skin as the blade sunk deep into Arden’s throat. He choked, blood gurgling from his gaping mouth, and then collapsed. Dead.

It happened too fast. Lucien heard Tamlin roar in warning—he made to turn, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid the blunt edge of the axe that clobbered him in the back of the head. A flash of pain—and then darkness swallowed him whole.

Lucien was fully awake now. He cracked his eyes open against the soft light. Tamlin sat in a wooden chair to his left, a grim expression on his handsome face as he gazed back at Lucien.

Jesminda. No—Jesminda…she was dead. Murdered, as he watched uselessly. Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of her head rolling across the floor. He tried to breathe but the air was trapped in his lungs. He was suffocating, gasping for breath, choking on the pain that wrapped itself around his heart. Lucien wept.

Soon his body was shaking with the force of his sobs, and an agonized moan crawled its way out of his throat. He heard screaming—excruciating, gut-wrenching screaming, and realized it was coming from his own lips. He tore at his long hair, attempted to peel the flesh from his bones so he might not be forced to live within his own skin. He wished he were dead—tried to smother himself in flame and burn away the remaining scraps of his withered soul. Strong, callused hands stopped him before he could do any damage. He thrashed and fought against them—wished those hands would grow claws once more and lodge themselves deep inside his chest. But instead, they gripped him firmly, an anchor to the world he so desperately wished to leave. Tamlin said nothing as he held Lucien tightly. Lucien could smell the salt of his own tears and felt like his heart had been cleaved in two. The pain was unbearable—he begged for someone, anyone, to end him. He sunk deeper into despair—let it drag him down, down, down, until he was drowning in it. He sank deeper still, where the screaming was quieter. Until he heard nothing but the frantic beat of his own wretched, cowardly heart.

Eris

It was not the first time Eris had found himself locked in the darkened chamber beneath the palace. His knees dug into the cold stone of the dungeon floor, his hands bound to each side at an uncomfortable angle. The restraints dug painfully into his wrists as he clenched his hands against the numbness that had slowly taken hold since he’d been chained up the evening prior. His ears strained to pick up any sounds outside the room, but all he could hear was the quiet trickle of water on the slick stone walls. Eris tried and failed not to let his mind wander to thoughts of Lucien’s escape, whether he had made it to Spring unharmed, if Tamlin had received his warning to haul ass to his northern border and await Lucien’s arrival. Eris prayed the note had reached him in time. That the second note had found its way into the correct hands. Before he could truly spiral, he heard several sets of footsteps growing louder in their approach.

Eris’s heart began to race as he heard the door swing open, those footsteps echoing off the cell’s damp walls. His father’s face appeared before him and rage glowed in his muddy brown eyes.

“You’ll be pleased to know your traitorous brother made it beyond Spring’s borders. With two of your own brothers killed in the fight,” Beron snarled at him. Eris said nothing–waited for the guilt to come. Instead, he felt relief. Brothers they might be, he held no true affection for the lot of them, save for Lucien. He wondered who had landed the killing blows. He hoped it had been Tamlin, so as to spare Lucien from further violence. He knew his brothers had been following orders, but they had always done so with such glee, seeming to enjoy the pain they inflicted on their father’s behalf. Eris did not ask who, specifically, had been killed. He did not want to know.

Sharp pain lanced across his face as Beron struck him once, twice. A punch to his gut stole the air from his lungs. He could taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.

“What will it take for you to learn that you are only useful to me if you obey?” Beron mused. Eris said nothing, gritting his teeth against the rage that coursed through him. He had never denied his father anything, save this. He was as loyal and obedient as his favored hounds. A dog to command. His father glared down at him a beat longer, a cruel smile forming on his lips. Beron jerked his head to someone behind him and Eris heard the familiar clink of a weapon being removed from a belt chain. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions.

Though he had long since learned how to pace himself, to weather the pain, it did not stop the dread from pooling in his stomach as his father’s sentry unfurled the whip at his side. Eris faced forward once more, began tunneling deep down within so as to hide from the pain of what was to come. Cold sweat started to bead on his forehead as one of the guards stepped forward and tore Eris's shirt, exposing his back to the chilled air. He braced himself against the searing sting of the whip against his flesh, but it did little to lessen the blow as the leather slashed through the skin on his back. He grunted at the pain that sliced through him, but swallowed the scream in his throat.

“Again,” Beron commanded.

The whip cracked again, and Eris jerked, hissing through his teeth. He did not regret refusing his father’s order to kill the female. Jesminda, Lucien had screamed. His long life had taught him that doing his father’s bidding served him far better than rebelling ever would. But this—what had been done in that wretched throne room—Eris was right to take no part in it. He could still hear the sound of the female’s head as it tumbled to the floor with a wet thump. Could still hear Lucien’s agonized cry as he was forced to watch. No—he did not regret it. Only that he hadn’t been able to stop it.

Again and again, the whip tore into his ruined back, retracing scars from previous punishments. Eris arched against the agony, panting through clenched teeth. He felt the blood dripping down his sides, along with a sharp throb of pain with each beat of his shredded heart.

The whip cracked again, tearing his skin down to the bone, and Eris finally screamed. He heard the sentry step back and sagged slightly against the chains. Beron gripped Eris’s chin roughly and forced him to meet his eyes.

“Consider this a warning, boy, should you think to disobey me again. Next time I'll have your head. Or perhaps I'll allow one of your remaining brothers the pleasure of ending you.” His father released him and strode out of the chamber.

Eris hung there, limply, his body trembling from the pain. He choked down the sob building in his chest, hating his father, his brothers, his life. Himself. The magnitude of his misery, his loneliness, washed over him in waves.

He should have been accustomed to it by now—the punishments, the beatings. Eris had spent much of his time growing up trying to protect his brothers, Lucien especially, from his father’s wrath. He had shielded them as much as he could, often taking the brunt of it himself. He had loved Lucien dearly, and still did. But that love terrified Eris to no end. He had quickly learned that caring for anyone in his father’s court was a weakness. That those he loved would soon be turned into weapons to be wielded against him. So Eris had shut Lucien out—treated him like trash until he was sure Lucien despised him, as he did the rest of their brothers. It hurt Eris—to see the warmth slowly disappear from Lucien’s gaze whenever their eyes met, day by day, until none remained. But it had been worth it if it kept the full force of Beron’s rage focused elsewhere, for a time.

The sentries, momentarily forgotten, shuffled forward and unclasped the chains encasing Eris’s wrists. He slumped forward, his arms too numb to catch himself as he face-planted on the hard stones with a grunt. Neither male addressed him as they exited the cell, though they left the door open. He was free to leave, it would seem. Yet he remained facedown on the ground, his hands tingling as they slowly regained feeling. A single tear traced a path down Eris’s cheek, mingling with the blood pooled beneath him. He breathed deeply, the musty air thick in his lungs. Seconds, minutes, hours later, perhaps, he finally rose, his back screaming in protest as he pushed himself up from the floor.

It would not do to dwell on things he could never have. He was a pathetic fool to even let himself consider what it might be like to see their friendship restored. To have Lucien once again look at him with admiration and light in his eyes. As Eris slowly limped out of the chamber, he swore to himself he would never show such weakness again. Lucien had made it to Spring safely. Eris didn’t let himself consider the emotional state he might be in. He was safe. It was enough.

[throneofsapphics]

PLEASE DO A PART 3 FOR SOME QUESTIONS ARE BETTER LEFT AVOIDED 😭 my heart can't take the angst 😂

some questions are better left alone, part 3

Rowaelin x f!Reader

(part one) (part two)

Summary: “I was going to ask ‘is it really my home.’” The words felt like poison on my tongue.

The silence was audible

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: dark/manipulative aelin & rowan, angst, sort of toxic relationships

A/N: this one took a dark turn. I’m sorry this took so long! It’s been sitting in my drafts for ages because I’m not sure how I feel about it! but I've kinda started a part four

“You need to explain.” Her cousin frowned. She’s the only one I trusted to send the summons. So, I told her about the conversation with Aelin. 

“Gods, you’re so dense sometimes.” She cursed. 

“Excuse me?” My voice grew shrill. 

“Did you bother asking her what she meant by it?” 

I frowned. I hadn’t, I knew exactly what that meant. She made it obvious. Aelin and Rowan were having doubts. This was the easiest way to remove myself from the situation, if a bit sneaky. But, my cousin didn’t put anything specific in the summons, only that she needed me there - urgently, as soon as possible. She’s sent letters before, but never anything like this. The rest of my family thinks it’s a surprise visit and that my cousin didn’t deign to inform them she needed me here. At least my story would hold, if Rowan and Aelin asked a few extra questions.

“She answered too quickly.” 

“What if she meant something else?” She snapped at me. 

“What the hell else could it mean? ‘Are you having doubts.’ ‘No.’ It’s clear enough to me,” I hissed at her. 

She stood with narrowed eyes, arms crossing her chest, and her ‘no-bullshit’ look on her face. “I think you’re a coward.” She tilted her head. My jaw dropped. “In the gentlest way possible.” She frowned at the hurt look on my face. “Maybe some extended time at home would be good for you.” 

Silver started to line my eyes, and I urged the tears not to spill. Not now, not when I was trying to hold my ground. But, she crossed the room and tugged me into a hug, and the floodgates opened. 

-

It had been a month. They received a few letters from y/n, all vague in nature. Of course, they understand why - it’s her cousin's business, not theirs. Still, it unnerved them. She’d never been gone this long before, and the summons was vague enough as is. They didn’t have any clue why she was gone, what was happening, and when she would return. Slowly, it was driving Aelin mad. 

Then - Fenrys seemed to avoid any conversation regarding y/n. At first, she summed it up to him missing his friend, but as it continued over the weeks, something tingling inside her told her it was more. Aelin trusts her instincts, they’ve served her well in the past. 

“What do you know about y/n, that you’re not telling us?” She got Rowan to ask the question - maybe she would’ve been a bit smoother with the delivery, but she didn’t want him to think she was using the blood oath. 

“Are you asking about her drinking habits?” He drawled, leaning his chair back on two legs. 

“About why she’s gone.” Rowan said through gritted teeth. The weeks had worn him down too. 

“A summon from her cousin, wasn’t it?” 

Rowan growled but Fenrys looked on with wary amusement. 

“Is there a reason she would want to leave, for an extended period of time?” Aelin cut in. She was sick of it. 

“I imagine a family emergency would do that.” He cocked his head, and said it with an edged chuckle. She could read him well, he was hiding something. 

“Besides that.” She hissed. 

Fenrys’s lips pressed in a tight line. “She was having doubts. At one point, after your conversation.” 

“Anything else, did she say anything else?” Rowan cut in this time, his eyes gleaming. 

“No, she wouldn’t tell me anything else.” 

Because if it … if it could cause some sort of pain to her, he’d feel obligated to tell her. She exchanged a glance with Rowan, knowing he’d come to the same conclusion. Aelin changed the subject quickly, and Fenrys looked relieved. 

-

With each passing day, I couldn’t decide if my instincts made me crazy, an idiot, or right. My cousin refused to comment any further, telling me it’s something I needed to figure out. I focused on spending time with my younger cousins, the family I rarely got to see. A part of me aches to go back, tugged at me to return to them, but another said to stay - to be with my family and court. I’d been there long enough that my mother started hinting at reinstating my position. A conversation I carefully deflected. 

“Why haven’t you returned yet, you’ve never been separated from them this long?” Her father asked over dinner, taking a sip of his wine. 

“Not that we don’t want you here, dear,” her mother interrupted, shooting him a nasty look, “but we heard it’s painful to be away from mates.” Her parents were deeply in love - not a mating bond, but it might as well have been. 

I sagged in my chair, letting my fork drop onto the plate. My mother frowned at the noise, but didn’t lecture me on it. 

“I’m … I needed some fresh air.” I tried to explain. 

They each exchanged a look, and by the haze in their eyes I knew they were mind-speaking. It runs in the family. 

Hello. I budged into both of them with a grin. My mother glared, 

It’s rude to interrupt private conversations. I grinned at her, and pulled out. 

“Are you in trouble?” I watched my fathers fist tighten around the steak knife, his knuckles whitening. 

“No,” I shook my head. Not the sort they’re thinking of. The only real danger, at this point, seems to be coming from my own mind. My swirling thoughts, the overthinking, the unending cycle. 

“Do you wish to move back?” My mothers voice was gentle, soft. A complete opposite to her normal curt tones and cold corrections. 

“I don’t know.” I finally gave them an honest answer - one that held the most truth. I don’t know what to do, what I want, or where to be. I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping to head off the upcoming headache. 

“Considering the Queen and King of Terrasen have requested to visit, you have about one week to figure that out.” My eyes widened. There she was. I saw the wicked glint in her eyes. She’d known this whole time. “They didn’t tell you?” 

“Gods-damned it.” I cursed, avoiding her question. 

“Language,” my Father corrected half-heartedly, a pitying look in his eyes. They’d already granted the request, without telling me or asking for my input. Not even informing me they received one. 

“Of course we’ll have some official meetings and negotiations to attend to.” My mother waved one hand, elegantly. “But it’ll be good for you to reunite with them, after all this time apart.” 

-

I ranted to my cousin later. “I know she means well, but it still feels like a stab in the back.” 

“Your mother has always been … tricky.” She said carefully, not wishing to speak ill of her. 

“You mean a sneaky cold-hearted bitch.” 

Her pause indicated her agreement. “Who means well,” she emphasized. She’s the one who heavily encouraged my acceptance of the bond in the first place. 

“I know she does,” I sighed, flopping onto the couch, cradling my head between my hands. My mother always means well, and gave us the best childhood she could. Teaching us new things, taking us to see new places, and training us from the day we were strong enough to hold a blade. 

Still, there was always a coldness to her - some kind of lingering pain or trauma. I asked her about it a few times, and the conversation was always shut down - abruptly, but elegantly. 

“Why didn’t they tell you about it?” She sat down next to me, with a lot more poise.

“That’s the real mystery.” 

-

The week went far too quickly, and the entire court was buzzing. Aelin and Rowan were living legends, even here people love to tell their stories. This entire court loves them, always so happy about the relations between them, and always willing to tell me just how grateful they are - like I have something to do with it. I do, in a way, but those relations existed before my relationship to them.

They threw up all of the fanfare, even for a short visit. Only three days. Everyone expected a charming public reunion. I could put on that show - part of me did tug towards them, and always will. Still, a sense of doom settled over me. They hadn’t written to tell me they were visiting, and it felt off. 

-

Everything went well. I was excited to see them, my reaction genuine. I stayed out of the meetings - the official business going on. I couldn’t be an unbiased party, and in all honestly they bored me to tears. I was a bit disappointed Fenrys wasn’t there. His absence did feel … pointed. 

That night, after dinner, the world crashed around me. 

As soon as I showed them towards the suite set aside for them, Rowan locked the door behind him, leaning up against it. Danger, my mind seemed to sing to me. Danger, danger, danger. 

“We know what you did.” Rowan’s voice was blunt, cold even. 

“Excuse me?” I raised an eyebrow, forcing my heart rate to remain steady. 

“You ran.” My eyes darted to Aelin. “And you’re coming back with us this time.” 

My eyes widened, slightly in shock. I could tell she meant it. “And if I wished to stay longer?” I tilted my head, watching how Rowan’s eyes flashed with anger. 

“It’s been long enough.” He grunted, dismissing it. “You need to come home.” 

I opened my mouth, before shutting it. The words that almost came out of my mouth, Is it really my home? Those would … I don’t want to think of what they would do. 

“Say it.” Aelin hissed, taking a step towards me. I held my ground. “Whatever you were about to say, spit it out.” Rowan took another step with her. I bit my bottom lip harshly, rolling it back and forth between my teeth. Flames danced at Aelin’s fingertips - angry flames. Not the soft, gentle ones I’m used to. I stumbled back, nearly tripping over the table. A small breeze of wind and they were extinguished. A threat. 

“Go on.” Rowan warned. “Don’t make her say it twice.”  

“I was going to ask ‘is it really my home.’” The words felt like poison on my tongue.

The silence was audible. “Yes,” Aelin said thickly. “It is.” 

I felt her hurt - and Rowan’s resounding anger. Anger at me - for the hurt in Aelin’s voice, the hurt she’s feeling because of my words. Gods, what have I done? 

“Tomorrow morning,” he growled, “you’ll tell your family you’re coming back with us.” His eyes narrowed, and you’ll give no indication anything is wrong. 

I rolled my shoulders back, tilting my chin. “Who are you to give me orders?” 

Aelin looked down at her nails, holding them in front of her. “Relations between Terrasen and your court are well now. Would you want to jeopardize that?” She purred. “The trading routes are essential, aren’t they Rowan?” She turned to him. He gave a curt nod, but his eyes never left me. 

Holy Gods. She’s willing to strain relations to get me to go back. To stay. I let out a slow exhale. My court, that’s something I’ll never be willing to jeopardize or threaten, and she knows that. “Very well.” My throat bobbed with each word. I underestimated them. How far they’d go to keep me. My instincts weren’t wrong - the doom I felt, not this time. They know where my deepest loyalties lie, and they’re willing to use them against me. 

“Is that all?” I said through gritted teeth. 

Aelin held up a finger, “don’t mention a word to that cousin of yours, who summoned you. I heard you dispatched a letter to her a week before that arrived. Interesting timing.” 

“Stranger things have happened,” I countered, not missing a beat or giving an inch. Aelin’s look told me she didn’t believe a word I’d insinuated, she stalked towards me instead. I forced myself to stay in place, not to run. A finger pressed under my chin. 

“Pretty little liar.” She smirked. 

-

The look of outrage on her face was satisfying, Aelin had to admit. Almost as satisfying as putting the pieces together - of the interesting timing she’d orchestrated. She’d bet gold on what was in the letter she posted. 

“I’m not a liar.” She hissed back at her. 

“Maybe not,” Rowan’s voice came from behind her, “but you like to hide things.” 

She looked away, an admission of guilt if I’ve ever seen one. “If I were to hide things, have you considered why I might do that?” 

She turned back, a coldness settled in those beautiful eyes. Something she’d never seen from her before. Her eyes paused on her first, then to Rowan, before she swept from the room - not giving them a chance to counter. 

Aelin should be proud, she did get the last word in. 

“I forgot you both have a flair for the dramatics.” Rowan huffed, before stalking towards the door. He did say he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Likely, everyone would summon it up to their extended separation. Aelin knows better, he wants to keep an eye on her - they both do. He doesn’t trust her not to run. She doesn’t either. 

-

They didn’t let me out of their sight as much as they could help it. They couldn’t follow me around while they were in official meetings, but found me as soon as they ended. The threat Aelin levied kept my mouth shut. I introduced them to my family - especially my small cousins who idolized them. The ones who always asked for stories about them. A smile crossed my face watching Aelin interact with them - how gentle she was. 

I stared at Rowan, waiting to see if he would reach out or try to speak to me. What? He asked finally, to my mind, not bothering to sound pleasant. 

Just a reminder of who you’re threatening. He stiffened, and I saw his fist clench together before loosening. I turned my attention back towards my cousins.

-

“I should’ve heeded your warning.” I told Fenrys, when we finally had a bit of time alone. Their majesties were otherwise occupied. 

“Which one?” He threw a grape, catching it in his mouth. Show off. 

“About asking certain questions.” 

His look said, “I do give good advice from time to time. Even if it falls on empty ears.” 

I snarled half-heartedly and debated telling him about the threat they’d given. But … I’d already stirred up enough and already was suffering the consequences. Maybe this was better left unsaid. “When’s your next night off?” I asked instead. 

“About that.” Fenrys chuckled. “I’ve been informed I’m not allowed to take you out drinking.” 

“Great.” I grumbled. Reaching for a grape. 

“Until you, apparently, ‘earn those privileges.’”

My hand paused midair, my eyes snapped to his. “Excuse me?” 

“Exactly what he said.” Aelin’s voice came from the doorway. I forget how easily they can sneak up on me. “We don’t trust you.” 

Fenrys shot a pitying look at me, and made a swift exit. Smart, considering the argument brewing. Aelin strode to my side, budging me slightly to make room for her to sit next to me. I moved stiffly. “I took your warning to heart.” My voice came out quieter than I wished. 

-

At least Fenrys saved her the trouble of bringing that up. She wrapped an arm around y/n’s waist, tugging her into her side. She could sense the battle between her mind and body - her mind wanting to pull away, but her body urging her to melt into her side. The body won. 

“I won’t take any chances with you.” 

“I didn’t realize this was a cage.” 

Aelin flinched, her grip tightening. “It’s not.” 

“Banning me from leaving. Sounds like a cage to me.” 

“I don’t care what you think of it.” Aelin wished she didn’t mean the words, desperately wished she didn’t, but the primal Fae instinct in her, the one to keep her mate close - those overrode everything else. 

As soon as she and Rowan realized how close they came to y/n slipping through their fingers, that urge set in. It’s something she couldn’t kick, couldn’t shove away.  

“Who knew what asking the wrong questions could do.” Y/n muttered. 

“You could’ve avoided all of this.” Aelin hedged. Possibly, but something told her it was inevitable - inevitable this would happen. 

She pushed away from her, wiggling out of her grip, turning to look her in the eyes. A sadness was there, sadness and sorrow. “I never thought you’d stoop that low.” 

Aelin’s temper flared. She felt the flames dance at her fingertips. Y/n cast a small shield to separate them. The female so rarely used her magic like that, she forgot she’s capable of it. 

Rowan walked in, assessed the scene, and snorted. His magic both extinguished her flames and ripped down her shield. They turned to glare at him.

“Did you ever wonder where your magic comes from?” He asked y/n instead. 

“My family.” She said, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Did you know your mother is part Crochan?” 

Aelin sensed the shock running through y/n. She hadn’t known. Rowan. She glared at him, and he ignored her. 

A flurry of emotions ran through the bond, y/n’s normal defenses completely down - wide open. 

-

“Mostly witch I’d say. But obviously part Fae, given the features.” He continued. Rowan figured it out during the visit, after spending more time with her mother. He’d been waiting to drop this particular knowledge. Give something to unsettle her, the way she had with them. But, he thought she would have known. He thought it was something she hadn’t told them, had hid from them, and didn’t realize it could be something hidden from her. A tang of guilt ripped through him, but not enough to make him regret revealing it. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a witch.” She murmured quietly. 

“I know,” Aelin said soothingly, wrapping an arm around her and tugging her into her side. You’re an asshole. She spoke directly to him. Why didn’t you tell me? 

It didn’t occur to me. Aelin’s returning glare called bullshit. 

“Crochan’s can use small glamors, you never wondered where that came from?”

“The version of my mother you see is different from the one who raised me.” Her words were bitter. Pure ice. He fought down those instincts that told him she might have caused her harm, the ones who told him to go eliminate the threat. He could see Aelin tamping them down as well. “She’s not a bad person,” y/n said quickly, sensing the shifts in their mood, “only … her intentions are good, she did her best raising us, but she can be a sneaky cold-hearted bitch when she wants to.” 

-

Witch. Part witch. She wasn’t upset by the knowledge, it thrilled her actually. The upset came from how her mother never told her. She wonders if her father knew at all. Maybe not. 

“Then we know where you get it from.” Rowan crooned. 

I closed my eyes, forcing slow breaths in and out of me, cooling the rage seeming beneath my skin. They had a point, but … “Try and insult my mother again, mate or not I will cut off your favorite part.” I hissed. A genuine threat. 

I heard Aelin stifling a laugh, but Rowan’s eyes widened slightly, before blinking. “Noted.” 

“Crochans were in hiding for several years,” my lips pressed into a tight line. “It’s possible that’s … how she met my father.” My mother wasn’t born into our court - but she might as well rule it at this point. 

Rowan’s eyes softened slightly, and he gave a quick nod. Relations between Crochans and Ironteeth only cooled very recently. Maybe that’s part of the reason my mother put a blade in my hand at a young age, and taught me how to use it.

-

After Rowans … revelation, y/n seemed to daze off. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and Aelin knew she was deep in thought. She didn’t interrupt her, instead choosing to keep her tugged into her side, glaring at Rowan - who looked unapologetic. He did take a seat on her other side, not touching but close enough he could reach out and hold her if he wanted to. 

“She did insist on training us, from a young age.” 

“Training?” Rowan’s interest peaked. Gods. Y/n has no idea what she might have started. “I haven’t seen you train before.” 

“I do have hobbies outside of being your mate.” 

Rowan bristled. “You love hiding things, don’t you.” 

“I’d say I’m full of surprises,” she countered dryly, shooting him an infuriating smile. Aelin had taught her that one, sure enough it worked. 

“Then train with me tomorrow morning.” 

Aelin groaned. This would not end well. 

You need to be kinder, she reminded him. 

I will. He shot her an exasperated look. 

-

Based on Aelin’s horror stories, I thought I’d be in for a few hours of torture with Rowan the next morning, but to my surprise he was patient. Making small corrections here and there, and focusing mostly on technique. 

Rowan sent a small gust of wind - not enough to damage me, but enough to make me lose my balance, costing a few precious seconds before his blade was a few inches from my throat. 

“You’d be dead.” I tilted my head after he moved the dagger away. He didn’t say it with coldness, or judgment - maybe a bit of worry. 

“I’ll teach you how to use your magic.” 

“I’m capable of using my magic.” I snapped back. 

He let out a slow breath. “In a fight.” 

That makes more sense. “Fine,” I said, a bit begrudgingly, and he grinned - a terrifying grin that made my heart beat a bit faster. 

“Rowan.” I heard Aelin’s voice from behind us, and it had a warning tone to it. “Be nice or I’ll take over.” 

He grunted, before gesturing towards a table propped against the wall. Weapons, he seemed to say. I narrowed my eyes.

“Why?” 

“So you won’t default to them.” 

He does have a point. Having never extensively used my magic offensively or defensively, there was a large learning curve over the next few weeks. Rowan seemed to have eternal patience when it came to me. I slowly felt the bridges start to connect again, some of the trust rebuild. 

-

“He was never this nice to me,” Aelin complained one night, my head resting on her lap as she carefully ran her fingers through my hair, detangling any strands gently. 

“I believe the circumstances were a bit different.” I mumbled, her motions slowly lulling me to sleep. But, I didn’t think Rowan was feeling particularly kind or generous with the hell he put me through. 

“You’re right about that.” She ran her thumb over my cheekbone, tracing down my jawline. “How are you feeling?” 

I twisted to look at her, that question could have a myriad of answers. “About what?” My fingers drifted over her shoulder, down her arm, before capturing her hand, squeezing it lightly. 

“Everything. Anything.” I couldn’t get a read on her emotions, her face was carefully neutral. 

“Right now, I’m tired, sore, and want a snack.” Aelin laughed, before turning me so she could run her fingers through my hair again. “I’m also …” My words trailed off, and I regretted opening my mouth. Having to actually explain how I’m feeling or put it in words, especially with the results some of my questions or words have had in the past, fills me with a sense of anxiety. I don’t know how they’ll react anymore, or how they’ll take certain scenarios. Everything feels like new territory again, despite having been together for some time. 

“Also what?” Aelin prompted. I felt her tense underneath me, but her fingers didn’t stop their motions. 

“A bit like a bird stuck in a too-small space.” I avoided saying the word ‘cage,’ but the implication was still there. 

Aelin loosed a long breath. “Thank you for telling me.” 

I blinked in surprise. Thank you, coming from Aelin. The surprise manners almost overrode the fact that she didn’t offer anything to fix it. Almost. 

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova, her father, and Enolio. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Coriolanus spends the night at the Reginelle estate. While Bellova sleeps, he goes through her room and discovers many intriguing items, some of which he would have never expected to find.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains manipulation, swearing, and mentions of death and weaponry.

A/n: This chapter was so hard to write tbh😭

Bellova awoke on Sunday, two days after she’d fallen unconscious. Coriolanus was at her bedside, reading a book. When he noticed she was awake, he immediately called for the nurse and brushed her hair out of her face gently.  

After the nurse checked her vitals and confirmed that she was alright, he went to summon the doctor so she could be cleared to go home. 

“I feel so guilty,” Bellova whispered, looking down at her lap sadly. 

“Why is that?” Coriolanus asked, checking the time on his watch. It was already six o’clock in the evening, and he wanted to get home in time for dinner with Tigris and Grandma’am. 

“My father has probably been worried sick about me,” she said dejectedly. “Do you know where he is right now? I would really like to see him.”

Coriolanus took a deep breath. 

“Oh, sweet girl…I hate that I have to break this to you.”

“Huh?” Bellova tilted her head in confusion.

“Your father is dead.”

.

.

.

Coriolanus did not get home in time for dinner. 

Instead, he had to escort a distraught Bellova to the car waiting in front of the hospital to take her back to her estate. Between sobs, she begged for Coriolanus to come home with her. 

“Please don’t leave me alone,” she said tearfully, clutching his arm like it was a lifeline. “I don’t trust that I won’t hurt myself. I need you by my side, Coryo.” 

And Coriolanus, being the loving boyfriend he was, agreed instantly. 

He opened the door to the back seat for Bellova before her driver could, and slid in next to her immediately after. He buckled her seatbelt for her, as she was too distracted to do it herself. 

The driver started the car without saying a word. Coriolanus could tell by his stiff posture that he was on edge, but was holding his tongue.

The ride was…tense, to say the least. Bellova was trembling, clearly trying not to cry her heart out. Tears streamed down her face, dripping down onto her blood-red dress, the same one that Bellova had worn to his office just two days ago. 

‘So much has happened since then,’ Coriolanus thought.

When the car stopped in the Reginelle estate’s driveway, Bellova didn’t move to get out. She just sat there, as if she was paralyzed by grief, which she probably was. 

Coriolanus had to say her name twice before she turned her head slightly to look at him. He unbuckled her seatbelt and took her hand, helping her out of the car. 

They wordlessly made their way inside the estate. Two Avoxes came to take their coats. The same butler that showed Coriolanus to Mr. Reginelle’s office just days ago, approached them. His eyes widened slightly when he recognized him, but did not express his surprise out loud.

“Miss Reginelle,” the butler said, his voice cracking slightly. It was clear to Coriolanus that he had been immensely stressed. “I am glad to see you awake and well. I…” he paused, looking down at his shoes. “I am so sorry about your father.”

“Thank you, Enolio,” Bellova said quietly. “I know you were fond of him too.”

Coriolanus briefly wondered how much she accurately remembered about her father.

“He was a good man,” Enolio said. “Generous, fair, and passionate. And he loved you so much, more than anything else in this world.” 

Bellova’s eyes filled with tears again, which she wiped away quickly. “I know,” she said, sniffling. “He was the best father I could ever ask for.”

Coriolanus, who was growing increasingly impatient and anxious at the discussion of a man he had killed, cleared his throat. “Show us to her quarters,” he told Enolio. “She requested that I stay the night with her.” 

Enolio looked like he wanted to protest, but didn’t. 

He turned on his heel and lead them up the grand staircase, which was made of black marble and shone in the light of the grandiose chandelier hanging above. Bellova was still shaking, and Coriolanus could tell she was struggling to walk in her heels. 

He would have carried her the rest of the way if he’d actually given a damn about her. 

Finally, Enolio pushed Bellova’s bedroom doors open. “If you need anything, Miss Reginelle, just yell for me. I’ll be close by.”

Bellova nodded, giving him a hug. “Thank you.”

The butler looked stunned at this sudden affectionate gesture, but embraced her anyway. “You’re most welcome, miss.” Giving her a small smile, he shut the door behind him, leaving her and Coriolanus alone in her incredibly spacious room. 

Coriolanus looked around, taking in his surroundings. He had never been in this section of the estate before, let alone Bellova’s quarters. 

The aesthetic of the decor fit her perfectly - or at least, the old her, perfectly. The canopy draped over her bed was made of a sheer black material, and matched the black silk covers on her mattress. One of the walls was transformed into a massive set of bookshelves, which was filled with books and other priceless trinkets. A mirror almost twice the height of the doors was placed on the wall opposite to that, the rim inlaid with silver. The floor was made of dark grey marble, and was polished to perfection.

Coriolanus’s gaze traveled back to Bellova when she said his name softly. She had begun to cry again, which annoyed him. He really hated watching people cry, it made him uncomfortable. He was tempted to ignore her, they were alone and there would be consequences for doing so. But he needed to be affectionate enough to gain her unwavering support and devotion. 

So instead of leaving the room, Coriolanus stayed with Bellova while she prepared for bed. She stopped crying, to his relief, and instead went completely silent. She retrieved a white nightgown from her walk-in closet and disappeared into her bathroom. 

When Bellova returned, her face had been scrubbed clean of makeup. Coriolanus hadn’t seen her without a full face of makeup in at least five years. Her complexion was paler than usual, her grey eyes were puffy and red from crying, and her hair was damp and devoid of its usual curl.

She looked ghostly, which made sense given that the old version of her was dead.

She walked over to her bed without saying a word, laying down on top of the sheets. She still seemed to be in a trance-like state.

Coriolanus reluctantly walked over to her and kneeled down next to the bed. “You should get under the covers, you’ll get cold if you don’t.”

No response. 

He sighed. Standing up, he slowly coaxed Bellova off of the bed so he could pull back the covers. She layed down once more, facing away from him. 

Coriolanus thought Bellova would fall asleep right away, but was proven wrong when she rolled over to look at him. “Can you hold me while I try to sleep, Coryo?”

He was beginning to regret brainwashing her instead of killing her.

Pushing aside his violent thoughts, he slid off his shoes and climbed into bed with her. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. He hesitantly raised his hand to stroke her hair, and he felt her body relax slightly. 

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she murmured, her eyelids drooping slightly. “Thank you for staying with me, Coryo. I don’t know what I’d do without you, especially now that my father is gone…” She trailed off, her voice trembling pitifully. “All I really have is you.” 

Coriolanus allowed himself to smile. If Bellova felt he was her only ally, he would never have to worry about her disobeying or abandoning him.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I’m all you need. As long as you have me, you’ll be alright.”

She hummed in agreement, her eyes fluttering shut. And within minutes, she was asleep.

Carefully, Coriolanus lifted her sleeping form off of his chest, letting her body rest against the mattress. He climbed off of the bed, and ran a hand through his already messy hair. What was there to do now that Bellova was sleeping? 

He looked around the room once more, his eventually eyes landing on her desk. It was the messiest thing in the room by far. It held miscellaneous books of all sizes, expensive-looking notebooks, various fountain pens, and loose papers in clumsily composed stacks. 

Despite knowing her for more than a decade, she kept a solid wall between them that prevented him from seeing her true feelings. Perhaps looking through her personal items would reveal things that he could use to his advantage.

Taking a seat at her desk, he picked up the book at the top of the pile. It was called A Tale of Timeless Truth. It looked like a dark romance novel, judging by the cover that depicted two lovers standing in a cemetery. The one underneath read:

Coriolanus 

by William Shakespeare

Coriolanus stifled a laugh, as not to wake the sleeping girl. Either it was a miraculous coincidence, or the old Bellova liked him more than she let on. He was tempted to look through the book, but was more interested in the several sheets of notes lying about. 

After shuffling through them, he realized that Bellova had been quite passionate about the concept of the Hunger Games. She had written   the outlines of concepts of rules, spanning from having a different arena each year to making the tribute interviews a bigger, more publicized event. 

She also had rough sketches of strange animals, with hastily scribbled notes bellow them.

Mutations. 

She was designing her own mutts.

Dr. Gaul had likely inspired her to do so. Judging by the lack of development and detail within the notes, she hadn’t presented the designs to the doctor yet. 

They were solid ideas, ones that Dr. Gaul would be very impressed with. Coriolanus carefully folded the papers containing the rules and designs into small squares and tucked them into his pant pocket.

The other papers were filled with drawings, mostly of skulls and various flowers. The only one that stood out to him was a sketch of a rose. It was a beautiful picture, but quite macabre, as the petals appeared to be dropping in blood. 

He decided he had to destroy that paper. He didn’t want Bellova to remember she had been fascinated by anything violent. 

Coriolanus opened the drawers on the left of the desk, rifling through them as quietly as possible. There was nothing of interest in them, just a bunch of school supplies. When he opened the last drawer on the right, he spotted two black leather-bound books, decorated with elaborate patterns and inlaid with gold. One of them looked considerably older than the other. 

He picked both of them up, setting them on the desk. He blew the thin layer of dust off of the older book, and opened it. In large but surprisingly neat handwriting, the words “Bellova’s journal” covered the first page. In the bottom right corner was the date she first wrote in it. Coriolanus quickly did the math. She was seven years old at that time.

He flipped the page, which revealed the first entry:

I’m not going to begin this with “dear diary”. That’s stupid. I’ll just write out my thoughts as they appear in my head. 

Coriolanus bit back a smile. She had always been blunt, apparently.

I met a boy today. He tried to kick me off of my own tower at the playground. The audacity! He wasn’t willing even to share, so I pushed him. Daddy always says I shouldn’t be mean, but that it’s fine to put people in their place. And that’s what I did, so I don’t see it as a problem. 

I think he is in my class at school. I recognize him by his blonde curls. I never payed attention to him before today, he never really caught my eye. But now I need to watch my back. I don’t want him getting in my way again. 

Signed,

ℬℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓋𝒶

Coriolanus’s throat went dry. He knew he was the little blonde boy who she’d pushed down the stairs those years ago.

He turned to a random page. This one was written two years after the first entry. 

I really hate group projects. I had to work with Clemmie and Coryo. What a nightmare. 

Clemmie is alright. We get along for the most part, and sometimes we do each other’s hair. She can be bossy sometimes, which really gets on my nerves. I want to slap her sometimes, but Miss Inola would get really mad at me if I did.

Coryo is the one who gives me trouble. He thinks he’s so special because his last name is Snow. 

But he has such pretty blue eyes. They sparkle like the finest diamonds in the light. His smile looks like sunshine itself, and his laugh is so cute. 

It’s really a shame that he’s so annoying. 

Signed,

ℬℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓋𝒶 ℛ.

At that point, Coriolanus was beyond intrigued. He had no idea Bellova found him attractive when they were children. She hurled insults at him constantly, and was hell-bent on one-upping him in class. Clearly, she was good at hiding her emotions.

At least, she used to be.

Quickly flipping through the pages, he stopped when an entry written in red ink caught his eye. This was written when Bellova was fourteen. 

Today was an absolute mess, but it was fun to see the chaos unfold. 

Arachne really thought she’d win the Dean’s Award for her perfect score on her algebra test. As fun as she is to gossip with, she can be quite an entitled bitch. She threw a tantrum in front of the entire student body. I just pretended not to know her. 

Then Sejanus, the soft-hearted fool he is, stormed out of History. I think it was prompted by Demigloss calling district children “rats”. He’s such a sensitive boy, so I can understand why it got under his skin. But really, he should try to blend in more with the Capitol citizens if he wants to rid himself of the stigma surrounding his family’s past.

And lastly, Coriolanus won the Dean’s Award for academic achievement. The look on High-As-A-Kite Bottom’s face when he had off his name was priceless. I was sure I would win the award, but if anyone else truly deserves it, it’s Coryo. I hate to admit it, but his intellect far surpasses anyone else’s in the our grade. Except for mine, of course.

Coryo changed over the summer. In personality, he’s the same. He’s still competitive, smug, and somewhat reserved. But he looks different. He’s gotten taller, his voice is more mature, and he looks less…boyish. Dad says that he looks more like his father, General Snow. I’m unsure if that’s good or bad. 

I really do hate that he’s taller than me now. I suppose I’ll have to get used to wearing heels every day. When he pointed out how he can look right over my head now, giving me that signature smug grin, I wanted to throw up.

It’s almost sickening how much I want to kiss him.

ℬ. ℛ.

Coriolanus was unable to stop himself from grinning. 

Bellova really had been a lovesick schoolgirl all this time. 

He closed the old journal and opened the new one. Bellova had recorded the date she received it: her sixteenth birthday. 

He shuddered. He really didn’t want to remember her sixteenth birthday party. 

Skimming through the book quickly, he realized she’d only written in it a handful of times. She probably got busy with the advanced classes she was taking at the Academy. He inferred this because he had been taking all of the same classes, and knew how heavy the workload could be. 

The very last entry in the book was a short one. 

I want nothing more than to slit Coriolanus Snow’s neck, and watch the blood paint his pretty porcelain skin red. 

The fucking audacity of him to insult me in front of our entire class! I would’ve stabbed him with my pen if Sejanus hadn’t intervened. He’s just envious that I got a higher grade than him on our last rhetoric project. He’s fucking pathetic. 

I don’t care for him anymore. His has his arrogant ass to blame for that. It’s his loss. 

No matter how gorgeous or alluring he is, I will never allow myself to feel anything for him ever again.

I deserve better. 

Signed,

𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓪 𝓥𝓸𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓷𝓲𝓪 𝓡𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓮

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coriolanus spent hours ripping pages out of both journals. He removed anything that depicted her old personality, but left the entries that didn’t contradict Bellova’s new reality alone. 

If anyone who didn’t know her read through the journals, they’d assume she was an average Capitol heiress.

He also went through her room and removed anything that could be used as a weapon, just in case Bellova returned to her former state. 

He had no idea that Bellova owned so many knives. By the time he had thoroughly searched every crevice of the bedroom, his coat pockets were stuffed full of various small weapons.   

He left her bookshelves alone for the most part. The only books he decided to take home with him were ones that included graphic content. He wanted Bellova to think she’d been innocent and pure.

He found a singular photo book hidden amongst lengthy tragedy novels. Inside was many photos of Bellova and her loved ones. Some were of her as an infant, others as a toddler. There were only a few of her around the age where she had formally met Coriolanus. This was unsurprising, given that the war was at its fiercest around that time. 

Later on in the book were many pictures of her and Persephone, Lysistrata, and Diana Ring, taken during their fourth-to-last year of the academy. Bellova looked much older than fourteen in them. Perhaps it was the makeup, or the cunning gleam in her eyes.

The last two pages were filled with more recent pictures. One of them was a group photo of the senior class, taken at their very last Academy orientation. Coriolanus spotted himself and Sejanus standing next to each other, grinning ear to ear. 

Quickly suppressing his guilt, he searched for Bellova in the picture, who he found quickly. Nobody else in the senior class had jet black hair and a piercingly sharp smile. 

The photo that really grabbed his attention was the very last one, because he was in it. 

Bellova wore a stunning silver dress, her makeup was more elaborate than usual, and her eyes were half-closed. Five empty glasses of posca sat on the table before her. To her left, Coriolanus had rested his head on her shoulder, and appeared to be asleep. 

A vague memory flashed across his mind. A night full of laughter, posca, and luxurious outfits. Bellova giving him a captivating smile. Feeling the alcohol bring down his barriers, momentarily forgetting all of his worries…

Coriolanus shook his head, as if doing so would push the thoughts out of his mind. He removed the photo from the album and placed it so it leaned against the books on the shelf. He hoped that Bellova would see it and assume it was a snapshot of their “loving” relationship before she had “hit her head”.

He scanned the room once more, to ensure nothing incriminating was left. The aura of the old Bellova still remained, due to the gothic decor, but anything that suggested she was a violent person had been taken by him.

Satisfied, Coriolanus walked back towards Bellova’s bed. But he stopped in his tracks when he spotted a small table near one of her windows.

On it sat a framed, pressed black rose. 

The very same blossom he had gifted her after the arena bombing. 

He would have been stunned that she preserved it if not for what he’d just read in her journals. 

Coriolanus picked up the frame. The flower was a perfect representation of the old Bellova: mysterious, macabre, and beautiful. 

Opening the back of the frame, Coriolanus retrieved the dried flower. Silently apologizing to Grandma’am, he crushed it in his palm, practically reducing it to dust. 

Discarding the remains in a trash bin, Coriolanus walked towards the bedroom door. He needed to go back to his penthouse, Tigris and Grandma’am were probably quite worried about him. Besides, he needed to dispose of the knives and find a place to hide Bellova’s other items.

He also had some work to do concerning the frame that had housed the black rose. 

When he returned in the early hours of the following morning, it would contain a freshly-pressed white blossom. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! Things will get pretty intense in the next few chapters, because Bellova isn’t one to go down without fighting first…..

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[drakoneve]

Complete

request: Could you do one of Viserys I Targaryen?

pairing: viserys i targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 700+

warning: mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, & miscarriages (the latter is briefly mentioned, nothing graphic regarding infant loss or childbirth is described)

A/N: for this fic viserys and aemma never married. mostly because i believe viserys deserves some form of peace😭

Sleep evaded you on the eve of the tournament celebrating the upcoming birth of your unborn child. The future prince or princess of the realm. The sun had now risen over King’s Landing, and as the day wore on your body began to contract and ache in pains you recognized as labor pains.

You couldn’t stop from gently stroking your swollen belly, as if to calm your nerves and ease your pain. In a final attempt for sleep, and seeking peace, you close your eyes as you breathe deep and relax into This wasn’t your first baby, no, but you couldn’t help the worry that’s plagued you these past nine months.

Your firstborn, your sweet Realm’s Delight, Princess Rhaenyra, is the only child to have survived past brith. Five pregnancies that resulted in one living child and four babes lost in the womb. For a long time after your last miscarriage you refused to lay with your husband, King Viserys. He understood your reasoning as the loss of yet another babe took a toll on him as it did you. 

When you first had the inklings that you were with child once again you summoned the maester, who only confirmed your suspicions. Viserys was delighted by the news of course, as he always was, but he also feared greatly for your safety. Over the course of your marriage and throughout the trials of the past Viserys stuck by your side and made sure you were as comfortable as possible.

He called the finest maesters the Citadel had to offer to aid in ensuring both you and your babe survive this pregnancy. You tried to assure him such measures were truly unnecessary, to which he cupped your face and replied “You are my queen, my love, the mother of my children. I would do everything in my power to keep you safe.” Your king seemed to know exactly what you needed to hear, even if you yourself did not.

The wide doors of your chambers swung open, disturbing the last hope of any tranquility. You sit up on your elbows to greet whoever’s entering.

Rhaenyra’s silky silver hair is whipped in whirls you recognized as results of dragon riding. She’s no longer in her delicately scaled riding uniform but you have no doubt your daughter had just been in the skies on Syrax.

“Mother,” Rhaenyra greeted you softly, concern quickly lacing her features. “Father old me your labors had begun.” She crawled into bed with you despite the off looks from some of the midwives. Merely a girl of four and ten, Rhaenyra had yet to take a husband and bear children, so she had no such experience on the birthing bed and thus no idea how to comfort you. 

She laid on your left side, head on your shoulder as she wrapped both arms around yours and intertwined your fingers with hers. “You musn’t stay for long, little dragon,” you advised. “I need you to find your father and bring him to me. I have a feeling it won’t be long now.” You kissed the side of her head.

As the gods would have it, you hardly managed to keep from pushing before Viserys arrived to your chambers. Viserys joined your bed side immediately, holding your hand tight and reassuring you with sweet whispers of his love and adoration. Rhaenyra, despite both your and Viserys’ advise to leave the room, refused to leave your side again. Instead she took to your left and held your hand as Viserys held your right. 

Not but ten minutes later your son, Prince Baelon Targaryen was born. With silver hair and lavender eyes Baelon was every bit Targaryen as his father and sister, and you couldn’t possibly love him more. 

Viserys sat beside you staring in awe at the healthy pink baby laid upon your chest. “He’s beautiful, my love. I am so proud of you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you brought your left hand up to stroke the silkiness of your newborn’s thin layer of hair, holding Viserys’ hand firmly with your right. 

“I love you,” you whisper as to not wake your newborn babe. “I love our little dragons, Viserys. You’ve blessed me with two beautiful children I could not love more. Thank you, husband. For everything you have done and continue to do for our family.”

Viserys smiles warmly at you before pressing his lips to yours in a short, yet sweet, kiss. He pulled away just enough to part your lips but kept your foreheads pressed together. “There’s nothing I would not do for you or our little ones, my queen.”

You hummed in response, tiredness overtaking your body. You let your eyes flutter closed, content in the presence of your now complete family. 

[loveneversleepss]

Felix as Yandere

Genre: Yandere!Felix x princess!female reader, old royalty era, arranged marriage ish?, tragic romance, Felix saves reader, switch povs.

warnings: suicidal thoughts/actions, angst, stalking, obsession, killing, descriptions of blood/gore, smut(duh), nicknames (sweetheart,Angel,wife), unprotected sex, oral (fem rec).

About 7500 words, I'm so sorry😭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"When I think of you, I have another reason to live."

How could it come to this? The one person who has never once shown a frown, is giving up on life. I will help you, make you happy.

~~

"My lord.." I'm awakened to the sound of my servant. My eyes open slowly, the blackness fading away. He bows to me, "Sorry for disturbing your slumber, my lord." I get up, sighing heavily, "It's alright. What is it?" He stands up straight now, bringing his hands together. I bring my hands to my face, rubbing my eyes as my eyes are blurry from sleep. At the edge of the bed, my silk sheets are on the verge of collapsing off the ledge. He clears his throat before he begins to speak, "Lord bahng summons you to the tea room."

I groan and throw my sheets back on top of me. Lord Bahng. Also know as Chan, my most dearest friend since I was a child. We met during a festival. It was dark and I was lost. I was running around looking for my father. He had told me to stay close but I wandered off, chasing after my wooden ball. Once I retrieved it, I found myself lost. No clue where I was. I bundled up in a corner and sobbed tragically. Next thing I knew, a figure appeared in front of me. It was him.

~~

“Why are you crying?” I looked up from my hands, which are covered in tears. A boy stands in front of me with the most curious look. He looks a few years older than me. He bends down to my level and smiles slightly. “It’s okay. I can help you.” He reaches out his hand, although I don’t move to grab onto it. He slowly retrieves it back, “what’s your name?” I sniffle softly as I try to gain the strength to mumble my name, “Felix..” I say barely audible, he tilts his head. “Chicken?” He furrows his brows at me. I shoot him a glare and a big smile appears on his lips. “It’s Felix!” I yell to him and stand up angrily.

He looks at the ground and picks up my ball. “Well.. hello, Felix. I’m Chan.” He holds out the ball to me. I grab it swiftly and turn away from him. I begin to walk but stop. I have no idea where I am. Maybe.. he can help. I turn back to him and he is still looking at me. I bring my head down, feeling embarrassed that I just lashed out at him and are about to ask for help. “Sorry, that wasn’t kind of me.” I apologize sincerely and he waves it off. “How about we go eat some sweets, hm?” I bite my bottom lip at his offer. Just then my tummy grumbles, it has been a while since I’ve last eaten. I nod my head and his arm swings around me. “We’re going to have fun.”

~~

After that, I’ve been in his debt. Always wanting to please him and his wishes. I truly owe him for that day. I never felt seen before. With him in my life, I truly gained a brother. Although at times, he is a pain. “My lord, please.” I ignore him and try to fall back into my dream.

The dream that occurs every night, that haunts me. It's always the same. I'm laying on my back, my vision is foggy. A woman appears above me, speaking so softly. So delicate. Her hands touch my face, tender and warm. She strokes my cheek. “Are you hurt?” Her voice is one of angels, I could listen to it all day. Her scent is of jasmine flowers. Her whole demeanor is something heavenly. Despite all this, her face I could never see clearly. That is what keeps me up, I could swear that this isn’t a dream. More like a memory.

A memory that is deep within me. That wants me to remember but I can’t. It pains me deeply. If I could only see her face. My problem would be solved. And if she lived in my world. I would search to the ends to find her. To make her mine. I know it sounds silly. But I think I may have loved her at one point.

A loud slam comes from within the room. Next thing, I’m thrown off the bed. I turn quickly to see the culprit to see Chan standing above me. “Why are you so lazy?” I groan and stand up on my feet. “Why must you always be up so early? Do you even sleep?” I respond back and flop on my bed again. He pulls me by my feet and drags me off the bed. “Come on, we have to leave soon.” I stay on the ground as I look at him in disgust. “Where to?”

He begins to drag me by my feet, walking me out to the hallway. “To find you a suitor.” My eyes widen and I kick away his hand. I stand up swiftly, “have you lost it?!” He sets his hands behind his back, “no. It’s about time that you find a betrothed.” I groan as I step away to find the kitchen. He follows closely behind, “you are of age now. You’re the richest in the country. Talented. Handsome. You have plenty of ladies lining up for you.” I ignore him as I order the servants to make me breakfast.

I sit down at the table, pulling the chair out and laying my head in my hands. Chan continues blabbering about a suitor, even though I drown him out. He sighs heavily, finally noticing I’m not listening, “look, I know that you don’t care. But you need to do this, for your father.” I grab the knife that is with the rest of the cutlery, “you’re lucky I’m not throwing this at your head right now.” He rolls his eyes and confines, “I know that you believe your are destined to be with that woman in your dream. But face the truth, she doesn’t exist.”

Maybe he is right. What if she doesn’t exist? That she is just a figment of my imagination. “It’s just that.. maybe if I encounter her. I would recognize her on the spot. That i could remember..” My expression saddens as does the rest of the room. “Listen. You have to to find a suitor. You are the head of the mansion. Your father always wanted to see you marry well. You have to fulfill his wish.” I roll my eyes. How could I forget that? It was his dying wish. Of course I have to grant it. But this doesn’t mean I have to forget about that woman.

He pats my back, “tonight, we are invited to banquet at the imperial palace.” I look at him not impressed. He groans loudly and steps back. “Don’t you know what this means?! You’ll get to see the crown princess perform.” I lean back in the chair as the servants come and set the food. He looks at me eagerly, awaiting my response. “I suppose that could be interesting. They say she’s the best dancer in the whole country.” He jumps in excitement, “that’s right! I’ll prepare the gifts.”

~~

All your life, you've felt empty. Like something was missing. You were always waiting for something. Although you didn't know what. You were taught from a young age to keep a smile on your face. To never let it fall. You were taught to be quiet and never speak up for yourself. You had to be the perfect easy child. Meanwhile your younger siblings had freedom to do whatever they wanted. But you could never say anything about it or how you felt. Because after all, how could the crown princess be upset?

Dancing was a way for you to get your mind off of things, Somehow dancing was something no one could get in the way in. Your body always knew what they were doing. How it worked to shape it into the move you wanted. Always letting your body lead and your mind go. Letting all your thoughts slip away. Quiet. You like quiet.

"Crown Princess. Your father invites you to go to the marketplace with him." Maybe a couple months ago, or even a year ago. You would be bursting with joy. But you're not. That's because whenever your father invites you out. It causes such a spectacle that you have to return home quickly. After all, you don't want to anger him. "I accept. help me get ready." "Yes, princess."

~

"How are you doing today, my child?" Your father asks you, fanning himself lightly. You shoot him a reassuring smile, "I feel happy. I'm performing today for you." His clothing waves softly in the wind, his hair looks smooth and well kept. He always looks so clean. After all, he is the king. "Do you know why I'm holding a banquet today?" His tone sounds indifferent, like his usual business talk when he's with lords and nobles. You look at him confused, "No, father. Why are you holding a banquet today?"

He stops in his tracks, "Shall we eat something?" You don't question his hesitation to answer. You know better than to do that. In time, he will tell you. There must be a reason why he wants to sit in a secluded place. "of course, I'm craving meat." You two follow after your servants. Everywhere you go, servants and guards always go too. For your protection of course. Even though you'd rather not have them stealing your oxygen. You feel as if you are suffocating at times.

Platters and platters of dishes are set in front of you. You wait until your father first takes a bite which takes about 20 minutes. Due to him being bothered by multiple lords greeting him. You don't take a bite, you instead take a sip of your water. After a couple minutes you find the courage to pop the question. "Father, why are you holding the banquet today?" He wipes his face and takes a sip of water. His eyebrows furrowed, as if he is nervous of what he is about to say.

"Well as you know, you've become of age.." No way. He wouldn't. How could he do this? You assume the worst to come.

"I've invited suitors for you. For you to get married." Your heart sinks to your stomach at his words. You place your hands on the table in disbelief. You get up swiftly, scaring your father slightly, "How could you do this to me?! I'm not ready for this. I refuse!" You let your words slip out of your mouth, not letting your mind think to stop them. "Watch your tongue!" Your father looks at you angrily, "You will. That's an order." You feel your emotions feel to leave you, guilt becoming you. Your gaze falls to the floor, your body is emotionless.

He gets up slowly, walking over to you. His hands place on your shoulders, attempting to soothe you. "I know this isn't what you want. But i'm getting old. I wish to see you marry well. Could you do this for me?" You nod your head yes, you plaster a smile on your face, "yes, father. I will do this for you."

~~

I arrive shortly to the palace, we all wait outside waiting for the doors to open. It seems as if all the nobles and lords have come. I wonder what for? Isn't this just an ordinary banquet. how peculiar.

The gates open and everyone immediately makes their way inside. Chan led the way as I analyzed the surroundings. How lucky it would be to live here. They have everything. The servants show us to a table, it's placed right in front of the stage. A perfect view to see the princess. After a couple minutes, I begin to grow bored. "I'm going to walk around." Chan begins to protest but I already left him.

"Please get down, i'm begging you." I notice a girl in a tree, she seems to be writing something. Her legs dangle from the tree, moving happily. "Oh, shush. I'll be down in a second." She has a cloth on her face, her eyes only being prominent. She giggles as I see a servant trying to persuade her to get down. Her clothing looks expensive, not the kind that should be climbing into trees. "Please, you have to get ready." She sighs heavily and begins to get up. Her foot slips and she goes tumbling down to the ground.

I ran over to her, "Are you alright?!" I reached my hand out to help her. She looks at it for a couple seconds, then decides not to take it. She gets up using her own strength. I bring my hand down, feeling slightly awkward that she refused me. "I'm fine." Her tone sounds annoyed, enough to send a tingle down my core. "I need to go." She mumbles as a servant follows after her. Who was that?

~

I walked back shortly after that. Chan grumbles about something but I ignore it as my thoughts cloud my mind. Who was that? Why was she climbing in a tree? She spoke so rudely to me. As if I was below her, her tone irritates me. I should've reminded her of her manners. I am the highest ranking lord in the country. How could she speak to me like that? Unless.. She's the crown princess. No way. The princess would have better manners. Although that would explain the servant and clothing.

Chan interrupts my thoughts, "It's starting!" He loudly whispers to me. My gaze turns to the stage in front of me. The lanterns start to dim softly. A soft melody plays from the harp, a woman appears. Her clothes are long and flowy, a perfect baby blue color. Her movements are soft and controlled. Mesmerizing. It's as if i never knew how to breathe before, and she is teaching me. Her eyes are heavenly, her lips perfectly plumed, her skin seems so soft and delicate. Her body chimes with her movements due to her crown and beads placed on her dress. A flock of birds are set into the air and they surround her. Circling around her and her movements.

A heavenly sight. She looks familiar.. It hits me. The girl from my dream. It's her! My head begins to feel foggy and I find myself breathing heavily. "Felix. Are you alright?" Chan whispers to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nod my head and took a sip of water to calm me down. I finally found her. Just then, the performance ends. She bows on the floor, her crown jiggles softly. The audience stands up and cheers for her. She smiles big at us, her father, the king appears. We immediately bow to him and he announces, "Greetings, my fellow lords. Today I've invited you for a reason. I am offering the crown princess hand in marriage." There is murmurs that surrounds us.

It hits me. This could be my chance to make myself known to her. "I will invite you one by one to introduce yourself. Please enjoy the festivities and food." They turn to leave as we bow again. It takes a while to get to me as I begin to grow annoyed. I'm about to wander around as a child appears in front of me. He is crying. He jumps into my arms as he sobs loudly. "I don't want to!" He yells, presumably to the servant who is standing here now. “Please, my prince.” My hands rub softly on his head as he pulls off my shoulder. Prince? This must be the third born prince, Daniel. He stares up at me with his big teary eyes, sniffles emerging from him. “It’s alright. Don’t be sad.”

He seems to calm down and sigh heavily. “What’s the matter, hm?” His tiny hands move to my face. “You have pretty scars.” He traces my cheeks. He means my freckles. I chuckle softly, “and you cute cheeks.” I squeeze his cheek softly. He groans and pours his lower lip. “I’m not a baby. I’m a grown man!” I smile again at his attempt of acting big. “Is that so? Then why are you crying? Adults share what they are feeling to feel better.” He fiddles with his fingers, “they were forcing me to go to bed.” He looks sad now, “I wanted my sister to read me to bed. She always reads me the stories she writes. But they said she’s busy.”

Now I get it. That’s why she was in the tree giggling about. She was writing a story for him. “How about I put you to bed, hm? I could read a story although mine won’t be as good as your sister.” He nods his head happily, a smile gleaming up at me. “Let’s go!” His little hand pulls onto my shirt as he leads me to his room. A figure stops us. “Daniel. What are you doing?” It’s the crown princess. He jumps into her arms and hugs her tightly. “Have you come to read me a story?” He asks eagerly. She shakes her head no and you can see his mood drop. “I’m busy tonight. I have to talk with, lord.. what’s your name?”

“Felix,” I take a step closer and bow. Daniel gets angry and hugs onto my leg. “No! You can’t have him. I found him first!” A figure appears from behind the princess. “Daniel! What are you doing out?” The king emerges from the shadows. I now to him and he shakes me off. “Get to bed right now!” Daniel quickly runs off and disappears. “Sorry about him. He’s still learning.” The crown princess explains. I nod my head, “it’s alright. It was a pleasure.” She’s different from earlier, her mood seems to be more calm, a smile soft on her lips. The servants invite me into a room due to its my turn. “How did you think of my daughter’s dance?” The king asks me as we sit down at a table. “Oh, it was the most heavenly thing I’ve set my eyes on. No one can compare to it. You really are talented, princess!”

“Everyone’s replaceable,” she says brightly. Not once letting the smile fall from her lips. “One day I will grow old and my beauty will fade. Then a new imperial performer will take my place.” She fans herself lightly, the beads on her dress jingle a wonderful tune softly. Her face seems to be stuck in a permanent smile, although her eyes seem to give her away. They look off. Deeply empty. Not a single thought behind them. But I notice at times they seem sad, on the verge of tears.

The king tries to explain his daughter’s words, “what she means is that once she marries, she hopes that her legacy will be carried on.” Her father shoots her an scolding look. She keeps the smile on her face as she pours me a cup to tea. “Daniel seems to be fond of you..” Her eyes are looking at the cup, then they shoot up to mine. A slight devious and twinkle shine in them. I smile softly, “he jumped into my arms and claimed he wasn’t being treated well. I was going to read him a story to help him sleep.” The king tilts his head slightly, “that’s odd. He usually doesn’t like strangers.” I nod my head and take a sip of the tea. It’s a familiar taste but there’s a slight alter to it. Like a splash of honey or cinnamon to make it sweet.

“Lord Felix, is it?” The king questions softly, his voice seems to be tired. From excessive talking all night. “Yes, my king.” He fiddles with a bead hanging from his belt. “You’re the son of the late Lord Lee, correct?” I nod my head yes once again, “correct.” He smiles softly, “you’re father and I were childhood friends. Did he ever tell you?” That’s odd. I would’ve remembered if my father told me something like that. You don’t casually be old friends with the king and not tell.

“No, he didn’t. I wasn’t close with my father,” I stutter a bit at the end. The reason being that my father trained me to become an assassin. Killing for his pleasure. I shut my eyes in embarrassment as I realize I may have shared too much. “Is that so? Why?” I glance over at the princess, her lips have fallen into a sullen upturned smile, almost unnatural. Her eyebrows furrowed softly as her eyes appear to be deeply stuck into mine. “I always had this pressure.. To be the best. I’m the only boy and have only younger sisters. I have to carry on the legacy.” My eyes widen and I bow quickly, “forgive me for oversharing, my king.”

He waves me off once again, “no need for that. I want to know more about you.” I lift my head up and smile softly. I take another sip of the tea, “Felix?” I nod my head in response. “Would you be interested in marrying my daughter?” I nearly spat out the tea. I’m shook at his words. “Oh, that wasn’t my intention.” He interrupts me, “well why not? You seem to get along well with my children. Plus it would do your father proud that you married well. I would be him a favor.” I seem to be not able to get away from my fathers grasp, even in death. “Forgive me, my king,” I set the cup down and it clicks. “I have to refuse, I don’t have intentions of marrying.” He pouts his lip out, like a sad toddler. “Well at least spend the night.” I nod my head, “I accept your invitation.”

~~

You walk slowly to your room. Servants following close behind you. Processing everything that has happened in the past few hours. Men throwing themselves at you. All for a marriage you don’t want. But it’s bizarre. A man actually dared to go against your father, the king. Lord Felix. He doesn’t interest you in the slightest but you can’t seem to get your mind off him. His looks are fairly attractive but something seems off. He has this aura that is.. dark. Like he’s hiding something.

You enter in your bedroom, but you don’t rest or begin to undress. You stare out the balcony, the moon looks dashing tonight. Accompanied by many stars. How it would be to leave the world on a night like this. “My princess, the tea you ordered.” Your hand maid calls you over as holds the tray. “Mm, lay it on the table please.” Your table looks out onto the balcony, perfect view of the night sky. You walk over and sit on the chair. You tidy up the table as you softly blow on the fresh, hot tea. Your hand maiden stands a few feet away from you also accompanied by 5 servants. You hate the feeling of having eyes on you, watching your every move.

“Leave us,” you command your servants, leaving you and your handmaiden alone. “Have you enjoyed the festivities?” You ask her, pouring your tea into your cup. “No, princess. I haven’t had the chance.” You look over your shoulder to her, she has her hands neatly placed in her lap. “Go, take the night off. I won’t be going anywhere anyways.” She bows her head strongly, “thank you, my princess. I’ll take my leave.” She silently walks away and you hear the shut of the door. You sigh heavily as you stare out into the night. You take the tiny bottle you’ve kept all night by your side. You pour it inside the cup. The colorless poison seeps into the tea.

You take a look around the room as you see nothing. Just as you wanted it. Destined to be alone, even in death. It may seem selfish, but this is your freedom. And it’s the only way you’re gonna get it. Although.. you wish you had one thing. You want to fall in love. Why can't you? When you are one of the people who is in love with the idea of love, desiring love more than anything? It feels like you're sitting in a glass box watching everyone going happily with their lovers but you're just there alone, under the moon light. Maybe you are meant to be alone..

“I’m sorry, Daniel.” You whisper as you bring the tea to your lips. You’re about to take a sip when the cup is knocked out of your hands.

~~

I knock the cup of poison out her hand. It rolls against the floor, the liquid seeping out of it. She looks angry to me, streams of tears on her cheeks. She makes a run for the terrace. She begins to climb on the edge as I run up to her. I embrace her in my arms and pull her away. She kicks and cries out, “let me go. I don’t wish to live anymore!”

“Stop this!” I yell as I hold her onto the ground. My arms wrapped around her to calm her down. She kicks and scratches but I don’t let her go. She calms down as I hear our breathings hard. I let go of her softly and she crawls a foot away from me. Her eyes are empty as her upper lip makes a movement upwards. Pure disgust.

“Hypocrite.” She grits her teeth. I look at her confused and she stares in complete disgust. “You should’ve let me die.” I shake my head at her words. How could she be like this? She never once let a smile off her face. Even when she was being insulted or insulting herself. Why would she be giving up on life? “No, you’re life is too important..” I try to console her but it doesn’t work. My throat feels as if it’s clogged.

“Why is it that my feelings don’t matter! Why do I always have to be the one that pushes it aside. That i can’t make mistakes or do something I want. Why is it always me?!” Her voice breaks during her last sentence. Tears begin to flow and she sobs loudly, her body shaking. My eyes soften at her words. “I just want to be free..” I slowly bring myself closer to her. Whispering a soft, "Breathe for me, okay?" Hugging her close, stroking the top of her head as she muffles out her cries in my clothing. "Deep breaths.." She stops after half an hour. She slowly moves away from me, her eyes red and puffy. She wipes her tears away.

“Thank you.. for staying with me.” She mumbles but I hear it clearly. I wipe away a leftover tear off her cheek, her eyes stare into mine. Appreciation. “Of course. I care about you,” her eyes flicker down to what I assume is my lips. Her hand comes up to my cheek now, grazing softly against my freckles. “You’re really pretty.” My eyes widen at her words, feeling hot on my ears and cheeks. Although i don’t pull away. “Felix?” I’m surprised she didn’t use manners in calling me lord but I nod in response. “Why did you come to my room?”

I quickly think of an excuse. I can’t tell her that I’ve been following her all night. That I was watching her this whole time and that’s why I came in a rush. Since I saw her in the tree. That is how I knew where her room was. And how to avoid all the servants and guards. Thankfully, I had a backup plan just in case. I lift up out of my pocket a jade bracelet, she looks down at her wrist where it is missing. “I found this and saw the name, y/n. I wanted to return it to you.”

“Thank you,” she smiles softly and reaches out her arm for me to slip the bracelet back on. I slowly slip it back on and the heavy weight of the bracelet makes it droop on her wrist. Her eyes slowly travel back up to mine, “you’ve helped me twice tonight.” I laugh softly, “although you didn’t want my help, remember?” She nods and smiles once again, this time it doesn’t seem fake, “I wish you did have an intention of marrying. You would be a good husband.” Her words make my heart begin to beat faster, it seems as if there is this warm, pink aura between us now.

“I should sleep. It’s getting late.” She gets up but I grab her wrist. “You won’t pull anything rash, right.” She nods her head slowly, “I promise.” I get up and bid her goodnight. I’m about to walk out the door and she runs to me. “Come back in the morning, sneak in.” I agree and leave to my room. Smiling happily. She’s mine now.

~~~

“Oh, you’re here.” It was a harsh mission to sneak I to her room. It seems more heavily guarded today. I had to slit some of their throats to keep it quiet. Stuffing them into a closet. Their blood stained my shoes so I had to run back to change them “Yes, how are you feeling today?” She grabs ahold of my hand and leads me to her bed. She sits down and pats the bed for me to sit beside her. “I’m feeling much better.. thanks to you.” I feel slightly nervous at her words. She’s really thankful for me.

~~

You think you’ve finally find the person you’ve been waiting for. Lord Felix. The aura you felt earlier is no longer there. You assumed wrong. He isn’t dark, but a kind and pure soul. You wish he was the one you were going to marry. I mean it doesn’t hurt to ask again. What’s the worst that’ll happen?

~~

“Felix, are you sure you don’t want to marry?” She softly whispers to me, her voice innocent, slightly scared of what I’m going to say.

“Well, I'm open to the idea. I just didn’t want it to be forced upon you. Your opinion matters.” I didn't realize how important my words were to her. Her eyes begin to tear up, “for the first time..” her voice begins to break, “i feel like I’m actually seen for once, heard.” Her hands are both placed on the sides of my face. She sighs happily, “Felix. I want to marry you.” I’m taken aback at her words. The woman from my dream is actually asking to marry me. I mumble a simple, “I want more than anything to make you happy.." I stand up and get on my knee in front of her.

Taking hold of her hand around mine, "If you want it, will you marry me, y/n?" She jumps into my arms, her grip strong, clinging onto me. She screams in excitement, "Yes! Yes! Of course I'll marry you!" I swing her around in my arms then gently let her on the ground. She stares up into my eyes, then she proceeds to jump into my arms again. Causing me to stumble back against the board of the bed. I fall onto my back as her body is on top of mine.

She pulls away giggling, “you’re mine now.” She mumbled softly. I almost didn’t hear it right. But I definitely understood it. She’s claiming me. "let me see your face," I whisper to her and she pulls away to look at me. My hand cups her face as she leans into my touch. I place a soft kiss to her cheek, her eyes widen. She quickly pulls off me and lands on her feet. I sat up to see what was wrong, to see that her face had turned visibly red.

"your brother is gonna kill me when he finds out." I joke with her and she lets a smile slip. "He apparently 'found me first'." She walks a little closer, "Well I met you first." Her expression is slightly annoyed. I chuckle lightly as she appears to be jealous. "Come here," I softly bring her by her waist. Her legs go to the side of my thighs, lightly sitting in my lap. Her face starts to become more red and she looks away. I turn her head back to me with her chin, "Am I making you nervous?" She nods her head slowly, "I get nervous looking at you." She reluctantly admits.

"This was never supposed to happen," I tilt my head to her in confusion. "What was?" She smiles as her finger softly traces my freckles once again, "Me falling for you." I smile and her finger goes over my lips, my bottom lip moving from her touch. It's so hard to resist. To resist myself not to take her right now. To have my lips on hers. To hear her little purrs of pleasure. My name falling off of her lips. Her body fits so perfectly in my hands. She was made for me.

"Kiss me, Felix." Her arms wrap around my neck, "Please." The look in her eyes is so hypnotizing. I grant her wish as our lips connect. Her lips are soft, like a pillow, melting into mine. My hand pulls her body closer to me, a soft grunt escapes from inside me. Her hands make their way into my hair, she softly tugs on it. I reluctantly pull away from her lips., our mouths still in close proximity. "Say stop and I will," I mumble against her lips. She shakes her head at me. "Keep going," she leans into my lips again.

Her body begins to rock against mine. The situation is starting to get more intense. My tongue softly slips into her mouth. Our tongues melt into each other, sharing our desire for each other. Passionate. I want this feeling to last forever. A small noise escapes her, my heart drops. So, this is how you sound. Your noises will be forever implanted in my mind. "We need to stop," I whisper as my lips trail wet kisses down her neck. "Don't stop," a short whimper leaves her lips as I softly nibbled on a spot. Her sweet spot. I continue to work on that spot, her hips dragging against mine.

"You're so beautiful," I mumble against her skin. Another sound leaves her with my praise. Do you like this? You like being praised? "I'm so lucky," I continue, her forehead falls into the crook of my neck. Causing me to stop my kisses. "My wife." She faces me again, her eyes so full of love. "What?" I question softly, she hugs me close to her. Eliminating all of the desire we had. "I'm so glad I found you." I smile brightly as she looks at me once again.

"Now the hard part.." She takes a heavy sigh, "telling my father and my brother." I laughed and nod my head. "I can handle that."

~~

“That does sound like Chan.” Felix laughs as he brings a cup of tea to his lips. We're currently discussing the last arrangements for the wedding, although your father keeps bringing up memories of the past. The big day is tomorrow. Felix is practically glowing. A cheeky smile on his lips, occasional looks in your direction. Although, you pretend not to notice. "Are you excited?" Your father asks Felix. He nods his head and replies, "How could I not be? I'm marrying the love of my life." You assumed he was looking at the table through the corner of your eye as you heard his words.

But he isn’t looking at the table. You can now feel his gaze toward the side of your face. You glance up to meet his eye, your insides turning to mush and butterflies roaming around. You shyly look away. Your father chuckles softly, "that's what I like to hear." He brings his cup to his lips and takes a sip. "I'm so glad you two are marrying. I couldn't imagine anyone better than you for my daughter." He smiles as he bows, "I thank you for accepting me." He makes eye contact with you once again and he winks. Causing a smile to appear on your lips.

~

You're back in your room, sleep is not on your mind. You stare out on the balcony, admiring the room. "You're supposed to be in bed." You hear a voice say to you, immediately recognizing Felix's voice. "Couldn't sleep," His arms wrap around your waist. His head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, "me either." Every other night, Felix sneaks into your room. It's the usual for you two, to either talk or fall asleep holding each other. "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," you turn to look at him. "Hm, wedding's tomorrow." He holds you close, placing a kiss to your lips. You haven't had a kiss in a while, not one even close to the first time you two shared a kiss from that morning. You desire a kiss like that again.

"What is it?" He holds your cheek, forcing you to look at him. You respond after thinking about what to say for a couple seconds, "I crave you, Lix." This isn't the first time you called him Lix. A nickname that had stuck after that morning, after you had breakfast with him. You notice his eyes widen a bit and he looks down. "We shouldn't," he shakes his head. Although, you can clearly tell he wants to. "I'll be your bride tomorrow, It won't matter," You try to convince him. "Please," you say softly, it feels as if you've been defeated. "You're my everything, my Angel."

His hands lift you up, one hand tucked under your legs and one on your back. Your hands quickly wrap around his neck. He sits you on your table, his eyes looking deeply into yours. "Are you sure you want to do this?" You nod your head quickly. "Words, angel." You whisper a soft, "I want to do this. I want you." He quickly moves his lips onto yours. He slides you to the edge of the table, his body closer to yours. Your legs opened as he set himself there. Your lips moving fast together, your body begins to burn with desire.

Your hands tangle into his hair, he softly grunts in your mouth. His hands roam around your body, not knowing where to touch. His hand sets on the bow holding your dress together. He pulls it off softly and it lands on the table slowly. Your dress begins to slowly slip off your body. His mouth moves onto your exposed skin, nibbling along your collarbones slowly. His body grinds against yours, making butterflies appear. Your groin aches with desire, desperately wanting to be touched. Small and short whimpers leave your mouth.

His hand traces along your leg, slowly creeping up. It reaches your inner thigh and he caresses it teasingly. "touch me," you begged him. "Please.." His hand grabs ahold of your undergarment as he slides it down. It falls on the floor and he's reaching to pull your dress off. He stops beforehand, "Can I?" You nod your head, your head feels cloudy with lust. He pulls your dress off of you and it lays underneath you. Your body on full display now for him. He groans at sight as he leans down to meet your below. He licks a strip up as your body reacts heavily. A gasp leaves you as he does it again.

A sharp spark hits you as he grazes upon something. A new sweet spot of yours. He begins to suck there and your body trembles. It feels so good. His tongue and mouth move along as you cover your mouth. Noises and whimpers leaving you like crazy. You feel his finger enter inside you as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your back begins to arch as the pleasure is becoming immense. Your hips roll along his finger as you feel another add in. You feel this knot in your lower tummy as the pleasure increases. You beg him to keep going and the knot unravels. Your body shaking crazily and the feeling addicting. You feel a liquid seeping out of you.

Felix comes up to your face as he kisses you. You can taste yourself along his lips. You grip against his clothes, "n-not fair." You stuttered at your slightly weak state. He chuckles softly as he begins to pull his clothes off. Once his shirt leaves his body, you see how fit he is. The sight is so mesmerizing. You softly run your hands along his body. He pulls you to sit up as you're at the edge of the table again. "This might hurt a bit." You nod your head in understanding. You didn't even realize that he had fully stripped already. He slowly edges inside you. Your mouth falls agape at the feeling of him stretching you out.

His head falls into the crook of your neck, trying his best to resist thrusting. When you're ready, you tell him. He pulls almost all the way out and pushes back inside of you. A moan escapes as the feeling is superior. He begins a steady pace as your fingernails dig into his skin. Encouraging him to keep going. He hisses as he can feel you tightly clenching around him. "God, you feel so good." His head falls back, pure bliss on his face. The knot forms again but you try to hold out for him. Your back arches as your lips attach together. Pure tongue and lust. He knows you're holding out for him, so he starts to rub circles around your sweet spot. You whimper in his mouth and you have to pull away to breathe.

The sounds of your skin slapping together and the lewd noises of your bodies are so manipulative. You want to do this forever. The knot threatens to rip as your mouth produces screams of Felix's name. Finally it breaks as your body trembles once again. It causes Felix to finish as well. His hand places on the table to hold you two up. You both stay there as you try to get your breathing controlled. "We need to do this again," you giggle out and he smiles.

Your hands cup his face, "I love you." His eyes soften and he kisses your swollen lips. He mumbles, "I love you more," against your lips.

~~

Your maids are setting the finishing pieces to your wedding gown as you admire yourself in the mirror. They finish and you order them to leave. You can't believe this. Finally, the day has come.

You hear footsteps approaching from behind you and you assume it’s your brother coming to call you. You turn to see a man in all black. A mask covers his face completely. “Felix?” The man charges at you and next thing you know. A blade is struck into your stomach. You tumble backwards into the table. Causing glass to fall down and shatter. The assassin leaves through the balcony and your body falls to the ground. Your brother comes running into the room with multiple servants.

They call out for help and for a doctor. Your family runs into the room. Then you see him, Felix. He runs to you, dressed in his groom attire. You smile at him as a tear falls down your cheek, he hugs you close to your body. “This is all my fault,” his voice breaks as tears appear in his eyes. You stroke his cheek, smearing your blood onto him. “It’s not your fault.” You say weakly, blood begins to fill your mouth. It seeps down from your lips.

“Live for me. Live for the both of us,” he begs, tears fall down uncontrollably. “I need you here. Please don’t leave me!” Your lip quivers as your hear his pleas. “You have to let me go.” He sobs so loud now, “I don’t want to let you go!” Your hands reach up to his lips, forcing his lips into a smile. “Don’t be sad.” Your eyes feel heavy. “Kiss me, one more time.” He grants your wish as he places a kiss onto yours. Blood now staining his lips. “I love you, Felix.”

Your eyes close, the memory of Felix staying. Your life flashes. All the memories flood all at once. The most memorable were the ones with Felix. You feel yourself smile and let go. Goodbye, Felix. In another life, my love.

~~~~

A/N~ can you Guess who the killer was?

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

A Moth To A Flame

Synopsis: The Abyss takes and takes, leaving Tartaglia alone and hurting until you appear to ward off his suffering.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy ending Warnings: Mentions of blood, pain, body horror, allusions to gore, crying, mentions of suffocating and drowning

Requested by @crystalheartzzz and anon: “Hiii, this is my first request so idk howq to do it??😭 so ig I'll go straight to the point?😧May I request for childe with a s/o who has an abbysal form too but its more like a butterfly??? And reader didn't fell to the abbys they just stumble upon a book that explained how to summon a abbysal creature when they was a child??? Or something like thst idk you can just ignore me if this is dumb💀” “Ok imagine Foul legacy with a monster! reader. They didn’t fall into the abyss but they had a curse put on them and were locked away for years and their form has torn butterfly wings and overall some sort of butterfly concept(like how FL’s concept takes more after a moth) FL finds reader in a cave and panics because theres someone right in front of him that has a similar form to him. I wonder how he’d react”

~ * ~ Abyssal monsters attract one another. To them, the taint of dark, starry magic is almost tangible, urging and whispering to return to the watery depths. It worms into their hearts, settling and rotting into wishes of battle and bloodshed, only quelled by the sharp tang of iron in the air, eating away at their sense of self until all that remains is a hollow husk hungry for something, anything to fill the emptiness. That is how Tartaglia lives, with blood on his hands and a cheerful smile on his face, as the corruption tears away bits of his mind every day. His subordinates praise him, behind his back, as the most amiable Harbinger to work under, other than perhaps Pulcinella, but they’re blessed to have never seen him in the midst of a fight- with a twisted grin and blades almost dancing in his hands, it’s little wonder Tartaglia’s name has become known and feared on the battlefield. It does little to satiate the constant thrum of the Abyss in the back of his head, however, and little by little his breezy confidence and upbeat demeanor become more and more forced, cracking whenever those horrible voices hiss their dreaded desires. Perhaps it was fate, then, that he met you on the same day he nearly succumbed to the raging, stellar waves. You had crept into the bank, quiet as can be, standing stiffly beside the door and observing the elegant room. It was your first time making a deposit- terrible timing, as your nerves were thoroughly frazzled by how many warnings you received from passersby about the Fatui agents and their Harbinger, the worst of all- and your hands had been shaking as you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other and approach the front desk. The receptionist greeted you politely, but didn’t manage to get through a few words before being interrupted by a boisterous laugh, a young man with ginger hair striding through the door and up to the desk. With a flourish he drops a bag of mora onto the counter, coins clinking against wood and fabric as you hastily step aside. The man makes rapid smalltalk with the receptionist, who simply picks up the bag and transfers it to the back, apparently used to his behavior, and the man takes a moment to sweep his gaze over the bank with a satisfied smirk. Your eyes meet lightless ocean blue, and his confident grin fades into surprise and intrigue. Tartaglia stares at you, entranced, head tilted ever-so-slightly as the tendrils strangling his heart begin to loosen, Abyssal darkness shrieking and retreating back into the far recesses of his mind. The Harbinger staggers when he inhales, the air filling his lungs making his head spin as he’s finally able to breathe again. But Ekaterina returns to her position and beckons you forward, and as you move away Tartaglia’s chest clouds with sickening stars, world dulling until it’s faded and washed out and Tartaglia feels like he’s suffocating from an ocean’s weight. You bow to Ekaterina and the Harbinger beside you slouches in a chair, body trembling in an effort to stay sitting upright. The clack of footsteps on tile makes their way over to him, slowly, and the Young Lord glances up and meets your bright, now-curious eyes for the second time today. Tartaglia’s deadened heart beats, once, then speeds up as you stick out a hand and give him a hesitant smile. “Hello.” Tartaglia’s shaking hand slips into yours, and the Abyss fades away once more. The next weeks are filled with bliss as he seeks you out again and again; a Harbor newcomer and the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger are quite the sight to see in the evening. He learns and learns and learns- your name, your job, your favorite food, your favorite color, your homeland- everything coming together into a beautiful, multifaceted existence, and Tartaglia finds himself genuinely laughing and smiling more with every hour you spend together, heart fluttering in his chest at the mere sight of you. Is he falling in love? Perhaps. But he doesn’t stop himself, because to you, he’s Ajax. Maybe it was foolish of him to tell you, a stranger not a few weeks ago, his true name, but when he sees the slow, ecstatic smile spread across your face and the gleam of affection in your eyes, he feels like anything but a fool. In the years since he turned 14, the time since he fell through that crack in the earth, it seemed like he’d forgotten what true warmth was until he met you- and now his heart was set ablaze, a bright spark burning away the thorned roots of Abyssal corruption. He hugs you, a little too tightly, when you call him Ajax, because that’s all he wants to be- just Ajax, without any fancy titles or ranks or responsibilities other than being yours, and when he sees your smile or hears your laugh it almost feels like he never fell into the Abyss in the first place, drawn to your presence and being like a moth to a flame. But the stars, whether in the sky or the sea, despise being ignored. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like- what it’s like to not be able to breathe, to suffocate from sheer pain encapsulating your entire body- until the day he wakes up with a pounding headache and the sound of his own wheezing. Tears spring to Tartaglia’s eyes, his lungs being stabbed and torn apart by night-stained thorns winding around his throat. It hurts to speak, so he can only weep, each inhale sending another wave of pain through his body and ripping another sob from his chest. His skin stings, burns, bright dots dancing in his vision as he helplessly watches his hands darken and crackle, claws piercing the fingertips as they grow. Thick, starry blood drips and stains the covers, and Tartaglia manages to let out a scream of agony before the darkness forces him under and all turns to black. Your walks to the Northland Bank have become routine now, so often do you visit your new love- friend, and the moment you step inside the receptionist- Ekaterina- looks up and nods. But your face falls when you glance around the room and don’t see Ajax, the fluffy head of fluffy ginger hair nowhere in sight. Ekaterina gestures upstairs, waving you away with a tiny smile at the singular flower grasped in your hands, the glaze lily blooming a gorgeous shade of familiar blue. With your cheer restored you jog up the stairs, the spring in your step harmonizing with your idle hums as you stop outside the door marked with an elegantly-carved star- the sigil of the Harbingers, raising your hand to knock. A harrowing shriek pierces your ears and echoes through the hall and you freeze, blood turning to ice from pure terror, the flower slipping from your fingers to the ground. Then without thinking you fling the door open and rush inside, thoughts racing because oh Archons, what happened- it couldn’t be- please, love, don’t be- “Ajax?! Are you okay?!” A monster screeches in his place, pressing itself into a corner and curling into a ball, trying to disappear from view as it covers its face with razor-sharp claws, letting out heart-wrenching wails and sobs. All you can do is step closer, astonishment glittering in your eyes because that’s Ajax, isn’t it? The Abyssal creature awkwardly shoved against the wall is your love, isn’t it? Tartaglia- no, Ajax, the terrified young man from Morepesok- whimpers, the blood from his Foul Legacy transformation splattering from his mouth to the floor. It hurts it hurts it hurts so much- it’s never been this bad before, it’s almost like the Abyss is punishing him for defying it, drowning him, Ajax, in an ocean of stars so only Tartaglia remains. His talons snag on the dips in his mask-like face, an attempt to anchor him to reality as his head fills with eerie singing, everything bursting into fire before his eyes. Claws, gentle and delicate, wrap around his own and pull his hands away from his head, and the Abyss shrieks and recoils when Ajax shakily looks up at an otherworldly creature with eyes the exact same shade as ones he often found himself getting lost in for hours. Yours. Weak peeps and chirps slip from Ajax’s maw, seemingly in shock as you kneel before him and hold his limp hands, carefully tapping your sharp talons over their backs. You let out your own responding trill and brush your knuckles over his cheek, humming in delight when he leans heavily into your touch, crystalline blue eye fluttering shut. Purrs begin to filter from some soft, secret part of him, watching your magnificent form through a slitted eye, fingers trailing idly over your butterfly-like wings. You begin softly preening Ajax’s copper-colored hair, removing any dried blood and tangles until it’s soft as a cloud, and when your claws gently rake across his scalp Ajax croons, melting in your lap and nudging your hands so they’re scratching behind his twin horns. There’s barely even a flinch when you clean his wounds, so overcome with the comfort of you holding him in your arms, not even struggling from his size because you’re just like him- Abyss-touched and trying to survive in a world full of light. Ajax tugs on your claws when you’re finished, lightly at first, then more insistently as the instinct to cuddle and protect and comb your fluff with his talons grows stronger. When you dip your head he pulls you close against his chest, pain forgotten, and snuggles his cheek into your hair with a happy purr, careful to avoid your own horns. You simply slot yourself against him, hands soothingly rubbing the muscles around his cape-like wings, your gentle humming making Ajax yawn wide enough to see all his adorable fangs. Quietly you pluck the fallen glaze lily from the floor and tuck it into Ajax’s hair, and he lets out a flustered rumble, chirps and trills coming out stuttered and sleep-heavy. With a drowsy coo, Ajax gives you a small, affectionate lick on your cheek, and two Abyssal monsters drift into slumber as the sun sets over Liyue, a pocket of warmth against the cold darkness below.

[lokis-army-77]

i loved your summoning series sm i think i’ll read the whole thing again after this😭ANYWAYS could you write an angsty/fluffy eddie fic where female reader has bipolar disorder and eddie wants to be official but reader keeps telling him they can’t and then one says confesses that she’s just scared he’ll get tired of being around her because of her disorder. with a happy ending pls? i’m incredibly embarrassed about my diagnosis sometimes but it is what it is💀

Insecurities

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 1757

Reader, although having been friends with and maybe a little more with Eddie, is insecure when it comes to Eddie wanting to become an official couple because of her Bipolar disorder.

Warning: Angst, fluff, obviously the mention of having Bipolar disorder.

I just want to say that I hope this is okay, I did a bit of research into the disorder but didn't want to get too in-depth and not know what I was talking about.

Masterlist

It was something I had always had to deal with, the constant ups and downs of my mood paired with the feeling that the guy I was seeing would up and leave after he realized that having to deal with me was way too much baggage. 

Eddie had been bugging me for the past few days about possibly becoming an official couple instead of hooking up on the weekends and flirting relentlessly at school. If I had been in a better headspace, I might have considered it but the fear and severe doubt in myself and how he saw me made me decline his offer every time. 

Today was no different as Eddie came bounding up to our usual lunch table, tray in hand and smile on his face. “

"Hey, babe”, he grinned down at me, I just smiled weakly back. I had been sitting there, pushing my food around with my fork and listening to the muffled drone of the cafeteria. 

“Have you given any more thought to us?” Eddie leaned in close, raising his eyebrows. 

“No,” I responded. 

“Why not?” he asked. 

“Because I already told you, we can’t be official Eddie.” 

“Yeah but you have never given a solid reason as to why so I’m just going to keep asking.” He smirked, taking a fork full of macaroni and shoveling it into his mouth. “So…” 

“Eddie, just stop it.” 

“Come on babe, why not?”

“Because.” 

“That's no excuse. You like me and I like you, we should be dating.”

I couldn’t help the frustration boiling up inside of me. I wanted to say yes, wanted to date him but I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to have to deal with the unpredictable manic highs and depressive lows and then ultimately leave me like the favorite toy a child forgot about when something new, shiny, and not broken came into the picture. 

The emotions just snapped out of me as I stood to my feet. “Because I don't want to date you, Eddie. God, why can’t you just leave me alone for once.” 

The table went quiet and Eddie stared at me with wide, hurt eyes. I couldn’t look at them long before I turned on my feet and stalked out of the lunchroom. Tears almost immediately began to fall and the ache in my heart became worse. If he was going to leave eventually, I just moved it up the timeline with how harshly I talked to him. 

I couldn’t deal with the feelings inside of me and definitely didn’t want to be seen by the whole school crying, so I ran to my car and drove home, bawling the whole way. 

It took everything in me to get out of my car and walk maybe ten feet to the front door and unlock it. It took, even more, to shuffle over to the couch in the living room and cuddle up under a blanket, shoes, and jacket still on. 

Sleep came fast like that, as I sniffled back tears and my head pounded from the crying. 

I woke up hours later, the late afternoon sun shining through the blinds and a banging coming from the front door. I lay there, a blanket thrown over my head, and tried to ignore the knocks along with the faint sound of my name being called. 

It was Eddie, he had come to the house and I couldn’t bring myself to stand and open the door. I couldn’t bring myself to yell out to tell him to go away, to leave me alone. So, I just lay there listening to Eddie call out my name and knock on the door.

Eventually, he stopped once he realized I wasn’t going to answer. I sighed and tried to make myself comfortable on the couch but I couldn't. The lumps of the cushions poked me in all the wrong places. It didn’t matter though because as I tried to situate myself, I heard a loud clatter and then footsteps from upstairs and within a few seconds Eddie was bounding down the stairs looking for me. 

I tried to hide under my blanket, hoping the childhood thought of ‘If I can't see him, he can't see me.’ would work and he would think I wasn’t home despite my car clearly being in the driveway. My hopes were crushed when the blanket was swiftly pulled away from my head and Eddie’s big brown eyes stared back at me. I was quiet as he knelt down to eye level. 

“Hey.” He smiled, a hand petting my hair, smoothing it away from my face. 

“Hi,” I mumbled back. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, concern in his tone. “You kinda blew up and then left.”

“I’m sorry.” I hugged the blanket closer to me, I needed its security. 

“It’s okay babe, I shouldn’t have kept pressuring but I would really like to know the reason for your rejection.” His voice was soft, his eyes even softer as he looked over my red and puffy face.

“I don’t know. I’m just scared I guess.” 

“Scared? What’s there to be afraid of, Sweetheart?” Eddie scooted closer to me, thumb caressing my cheek as I huffed. 

It took me a moment to compose myself. Every time I tried to confess my thoughts and feelings, it was like the knot in my throat would get bigger and bigger the more I opened my mouth.

“Hold on, let me go get you some water.” Having seen me struggling, Eddie stood up and made his way into the kitchen. His short absence allowed me to calm down and sit up straight. When he came back, he sat next to me, handed me the glass of water, and then wrapped his arm around my shoulder. 

“Take your time.” He smiled and held me close to him. 

I drank about half the glass before I felt ready enough to speak. 

“You know how I have bipolar disorder?” I asked, Eddie, nodded, listening intently. 

“Well, I’m terrified that if we are officially together then you won't want to stay. It’s a lot of ups and downs and I can’t control it. You would be around me all the time and you would see it and I am scared shitless that once you do, once you see it and I’m already attached to you, you will realize that it’s tiring being with me and you’ll just leave me to pick up the pieces when you are gone.” Tears were welling up in my eyes, and hiccups violently shook my body. 

“Oh Sweetheart, I would never think that. I could never get tired of you. Hell, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now and I’m not the least bit tired.” 

“Yeah but you haven't been around around. You haven’t been there when I go to bed practically high on life and then wake up the next day with no motivation to get up or even turn over. It’s tiring for me so I know it will be tiring for you." My voice was wavering as I wrung my hands together, eyes gazing down, not wanting him to see the tears falling from my eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey. I don't want any of that." He chided sweetly. Index finger coming to push my chin up and have me look at him. "Come on sweetheart, look at me."

He rested his other hand on mine, stopping their nervous movement. I looked at him through blurry eyes and his soft smile almost made me break down even more. The hand on my chin lifted to wipe under my eyes, removing tears.

"I'm going to tell you something that I was going to wait and say but I think you need to hear it now." His hand cupped my cheek, thumb rubbing softly into my skin. "I love you, and that means I love everything about you." 

More tears began to fall as I listened to him.

"I will be here by your side always. You won't be able to get rid of me." He chuckled. "You can't help how you feel and I'm not going to pretend like I know how to help but I can be here with you, for you, if you will let me."

I thought about it for a moment. It was scary to imagine Eddie not in my life but also to think that he was so involved in my life that he would be able to see who I was behind the mask I threw on most days. 

Eddie squeezed my hands. Making me look at him. "You don't have to give me an answer today, but I hope you choose to let me in." 

He went to stand but I held onto him tightly. Not letting him walk off. I had come to a decision. 

Slowly, I nodded my head. "I- I think I'd like to try," I murmured. 

"You would?"

"Yeah, I would."

Eddie bend back down and took my face in both hands this time, leaning across the space between ups and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. 

"Thank you." He grinned as he pulled away. 

I smiled weakly at him, still feeling quiet down even though the moment should have been a happy one. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, concerned. 

"Nothing, it's just I haven't really been in the best mood today and having been crying since lunch hasn't helped," I admitted. 

"Do you wanna lay back down? I can go if you want."

"No. Please don't go." I paused before tugging him closer. "Could you lie down with me?"

"Of course, I can." He smiled. He moved to sit beside me even before lying down and having me lie down with him. His arms wrapped around my waist. His fingers playing with my own as we cuddled up together under my blanket. 

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You don't have to thank me, Sweetheart.  I'll cuddle up with you anytime."

"No, Eddie. Thank you for being so understanding. Not everyone is so... I don't know." I sighed, not having words.

"I know, babe. I know. But you never have to thank me, I want to be here with you, to get to know you more than I already do. And if this is a part of you then that's what it is and I love you all the more."

"You're too nice, you know that?"

He shook his head and laughed. "Close your eyes and let's take a nap. I'll see you when you wake up."

[birues]

15. — storm ❤️

*shows up with a drink a month late* hi hello! this fic takes place during eden raids: umbra and i originally wanted to write a part 2 for this, but then i got sidetracked 😭 Word Count: 1046 Summary: Tuana gets an Azem flashback about the aftermath of Zodiark's summoning Pairing: azem/emet-selch/hythlodaeus

“But...hmmm... Were there any primals aligned with Darkness? I can't seem to recall any…”

“You mean there isn’t any?”

Ryne and Gaia’s argument is distant. Far more distant than it should be. Is it the same disconnect between the dreams and the reality? Is she dreaming? She shakes her head, it relieves her of nothing. 

It must have been the unease. The feeling as if something is screaming at her beneath dark waters, their voice is muffled and unheard. Not even the bubbles of desperate gasps make it to the surface. She has to remember something–

Ryne’s musings startle her to the reality.

“The Ascians' god, Zodiark, may be suitable, but we need something that Tuana has actually encountered─and preferably defeated.”

Zodiark. 

Then her reality capsizes, and the ground beneath her starts to jolt and decay–

As the memory drowns her, she wonders if she will have the strength to swim offshore this time. 

***

You open your eyes, though you aren’t sure if you ever closed them to blink. They burn– dry and most probably bloodshot. If there were any tears left to shed… could you make a river from those you’ve already shed? Could you replace Lethe that has long dried out in a way of meek apology? 

What apology? Could the unfortunate souls who have died to give life to this abomination ever hear it?

You already know the answer. How many times have you tried in this short time? You didn’t care to count. When you try to follow the thread that has always led you to his undying light–

You’re only met with howls of darkness in their horrible wrath, forever barring your way. Hythlodaeus is gone. Soul laid on the altar and cut down, unmade. Prisoner of a false God– without a form, mind, or voice. Forever out of your reach, out of your embrace. Forever denied death. At least death would set him free to return and begin again. At least this completely broken star would not be devoid of his warmth and brilliance. 

An utter fool that you are, for trying. You know there is no salvation. You knew the moment he tore them away from you. So, you stare at the hideous creature hanged to the clear sky, unblinking. Oh, his might is not in question. Nor the shadow he has cast. 

If Hythlodaeus is trapped within, Hades is trapped in this…thing’s shadow. Zodiark’s hold on him is absolute, irrefragable. His taint engraves into every bit of his soul. In a lesser moment, you had reached out to his soul, falling back to him, an unconscious reflex, a plea for breath. You'd reached out, like a tarnished boat swept by the furious storm, desperate for the harbor only he and Hythlodaeus could’ve provided. 

He had answered, as he always does. 

You now wish he hadn’t. Then you wouldn’t have to remember his agony at your horror just before you abruptly pulled yourself back. You should’ve held your ground. You should’ve held him, unflinched. Now it’s too late. What a coward you have turned out to be…  How many times more will you fail him? Fail to save him? Why can’t you just do it, when he has saved you countless times before? 

Because. He won’t let him go. He won’t let them go.

You somehow thought you would be less appalled by this creature whose heart was made from Themis. That he would inherit some of his steady kindness, his mercy, his reason. But no. He has swollen Themis whole, like the voracious thing he is. Young Themis, too bright for this world. Whom you see as your beloved brother. Gone. Too soon. And being prepared for his sacrifice did nothing to ease the pain of his loss. You still can’t decide what’s worse… Knowing it beforehand, or not knowing it at all like what you’ve experienced when Hythlodaeus was ripped from you. 

You remember storming what’s left of the Bureau of the Architect, demanding everyone, anyone to give your husband back.  You remember Mitron standing before you, hand on the weapon, warning you not to steep even lower. The traitor you are, no need to be remembered as the madwoman as well. You remember asking her what she would do if it was Loghrif instead of Elidibus. You couldn’t see her eyes, but the clenched jaw and thin lips were too easy to read. 

She spawned some nonsense about duty. You’ve left before Hades had any chance to arrive. You cannot reason with her anymore, can you? Marked with the same zealotry she is. And any talk of duty after Themis’ kind soul was fed to that monster made you sick to your bones. 

You look at the creature blemishing the sky. Unblinking. And right before you scream, you sense a presence. A man you and your husband have exasperated to no end with your nonesense once upon a time. His chief secretary. 

“Why are you here?” you ask, though your voice is devoid of intonation. 

The man stops… And holds out an envelope to you.

“He… wanted me to give this to you before he… departed.” 

“You? Not Emet-Selch?”

He doesn’t answer. And once you turn to face him you see how shaken he is. How his grief deepened the creases of his brows… You want to remind yourself that he lost a dear friend. But you’re too empty to care. 

You grab the envelope from him, a bit aggressive, a bit desperate. The scent of your late husband permeates from the paper and your knees give away.

“You know I don’t agree with his decision. But… he has done what he thought was right. He was just trying to protect what he valued in his own way. I hope… you can forgive him, causing you pain was the last thing he ever wanted. And this, I believe, is why he didn’t tell you of his decision.” 

And the last thing he remembered before he was unmade was your shock, and agony… coursing through your bond as he was being torn apart. What a parting gift. 

The man who has quit his position turns to leave you alone with your lament and torment. And you steel yourself to open the envelope.  

[soobjvn]

TULIPS 🌷⁎︎° ✳︎ CHAPTER 19 : “ the c word ,,

↳︎ cw: written + smau; lightly proofread

[ prev. ✧︎ toc. ✧︎ next. ]

“YOU LOOK NICE,” winter commented from behind their market booth, looking up from the keychains she’d just arranged to y/n’s outfit. she wore a summer dress scattered with a strawberry pattern, a matching white purse in one hand and her phone in the other. “i wonder what the occasion is…”

“ok shut up.” she retorted while winter snickered. “how can i help?”

“admit you like yeonjun.”

“i meant with the booth,” winter smiled as she took note of the blush that painted y/n’s cheeks at the yeonjun remark.

“i know, y/n. and, nothing! yunjin went to go get the rest of the bags from the dorm; the two of us will be fine.”

“alright, but if you need help, just call me, ok?”

“y/n, we’re selling crochet not building a bomb. but sweet of you to abandon your man for us!”

“he’s not-“

“ah, ah, ah,” winter held her hand up, stopping y/n from continuing. “if i say it, it’ll happen.”

“yeah, okay.”

“can you just admit there’s a little something there?” y/n crossed her arms.

“maybe a teeny, tiny bit. like a smidge.” y/n pinched her fingers. smidge my ass, winter thought.

“finally!” as if summoned by the confession, yunjin appeared behind the booth with a box of their handmade purses and totes. “i think the earth just shook; mercury went into retrograde.”

“you guys are awful,” y/n laughed. she looked at her phone for the time. 1:27 it read; the market didn’t officially start until 2, meaning she’d have a bit until yeonjun came. she didn’t expect him to show up right when it opened, but they hadn’t specified a time either. she felt a bit disappointed to have to wait for his arrival.

“liar, you love us,” winter responded.

“whatever. i’m gonna go look around. i’ll see you guys later?”

“she’s growing up so fast,” yunjin and winter wiped fake tears while linking arms, causing a snort from y/n as she walked away to explore the market.

Y/N WAS LOOKING at a jewelry booth when her phone buzzed in her hand.

jun!: hey y/n, i’m here :)

y/n caught herself smile at the text. dammit.

y/n: hey! i’ll come meet you. what booth are you by?

jun!: ok! i think it’s some sort of paper mache tent…? 💀

y/n: yeah that one ALWAYS sucks.

jun!: seriously who is buying these??? idk if this one’s a dinosaur or a fallopian tube but it has no right to be 45 bucks.

y/n: PLS 😭

y/n: i see the tent! i’ll be there in a sec

jun!: y/n hurry this booth scares me

she walked over to the booth yeonjun had (concerningly) described, and couldn’t hide the grin that spread across her face when she saw him. he was dressed in a light blue button down with the sleeves slightly rolled and navy pants, and his black hair rustled in the summer breeze. his dark brown eyes wandered the surplus of students, seemingly looking for one in particular. he had a neutral expression, almost disappointed, she noticed.

truthfully, yeonjun had arrived before texting y/n; 12 minutes prior, to be exact. he presumed the market would have flowers he could buy y/n, feeling a surge of confidence to hint at his feelings. kai agreed the notion was sweet, especially since he’d planned to buy her favorite flowers: tulips. yet, he scanned what felt like 20 booths of flowers, none having the desired type. he sent kai a disappointed message. it was then he then finally texted y/n.

but, he replaced the frown by reciprocating y/n’s smile when his eyes finally met hers, and he walked over to wrap her in a friendly hug. y/n didn’t recall feeling bubbly when she initiated a hug the first time they’d went out, or anytime they’d seen each other in between, for that matter.

yeonjun, on the other hand, was used to the turning of his stomach in her presence, which had only happened 10 times more often and intensely since their conversation at the karaoke booth. he, too, took the time to study her stature, which he’d officially deemed as perfect. he watched as her eyes lit up under the sunlight as she released from the hug.

yeonjun ran a hand through his hair. “where to first?”

“I WARNED YOU about my skills, y/n.”

“you threatened me with your ‘nobel peace prize in ring tossing’, so excuse me if i wasn’t all that intimated,” they both laughed as they walked nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. the two had been exploring the market for nearly an hour and a half now, and were departing the fair game booth. y/n had, sadly, been defeated in practically every game. yeonjun made it up to her, though, by giving her the plush he had got from winning basketball. “what should we name him?”

yeonjun smiled at the ‘we.’ “yeonjun junior.”

“absolutely not,” she laughed when he dramatically frowned. “oh, jun, that’s our booth over there!” she grabbed his hand, skipping over to yunjin and winter. the two girls smirked at the sight of them. they giggled seeing yeonjun’s ears red with adoration and a giddy smile plastered on y/n.

“finally,” yunjin said. y/n rolled her eyes. “we thought you’d forgotten about us.”

“i still can’t believe you left us for your boyf-” yunjin nudged her, holding in a laugh. y/n glared at winter. yeonjun’s grin widened.

“so i’m your boyfriend now?” he turned to look at y/n, who would typically remain composed in most situations. when the situation involved yeonjun, however, that quality did not apply.

“no! i didn’t say that! well, not that it’d be a bad thing,” yunjin couldn’t keep her laugh in any longer. “but not that i’m asking for that, either! i’m very happy being single!” the embarrassment finally set when yeonjun, too, giggled. winter didn’t dare laugh, thinking about the scolding she’d later receive.

“you’re cute, y/n.”

TAGLIST 🌷 @bangchansbae @raehyun-byeoll @yyawnjun @junhuicosmo @n034sy @wintertxt @fanfangying1304 @crystal-jellies @gyuszie @lightprincess-world @hyuneyeon @tocupid @cookiehaos (bold couldn’t be tagged)

↳︎ pssst, feel free to use my asks / comment here if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

A/N 🌷 hey… how’s everyone doing 🚶‍♀️… i know its been forever since i’ve updated; i was traveling, and i’m starting up school again so my stress was just 📈📈📈. but we’re all good now!! i’ll continue to post whenever i can, which will most likely be weekends 🫶. thank u for the patience and support thus far!

[wafflesandkruge]

a/n: missing scene from sab 2x02 where nikolai finds a grieving zoya in the spinning wheel. i really hated how zoya’s first scene is her telling alina she has her back like babe,,,your family just died yet you’re so well adjusted and willing to help like where’s the trauma and anger 😭 anyway this is for all y’all delusional zoyalais out there i see you i am you

The halls of the Spinning Wheel were dark as Nikolai patrolled them, whistling to himself as he walked. Well, “patrolled” wasn’t the right word as that implied he was looking for a threat. There wasn’t much out here in the mountains that could qualify as one. So, it was more of a stroll, he supposed. A saunter. 

It was off putting being back after so long at sea. The air felt stale, the ground far too stable, and the gilded walls seemed to trap him more than any cramped cabin on the Volkvolny could. The stars painted on the hallway ceilings were only cheap facsimiles of what could be seen on the seas. 

It wasn’t that Nikolai hated his life as a Lantsov. It was what gave him the freedom to live as Sturmhond, after all. But every moment, he could feel the weight of Ravka pressed upon his shoulders, a drowning man that threatened to drag Nikolai under the waves along with himself. But if not Nikolai, who would save them all? Certainly not his father’s indifference, nor Vasily’s cruelty. 

And now, with the Sun Summoner, perhaps he stood a chance. 

If he could get Alilna to agree to his proposal, he’d have the power he needed to finally take control of the crown. Then, it’d just be a matter of finding a solution to the Darkling and the Fold. Simple. He’d had mathematics exam more challenging. 

A quiet scuffle from somewhere ahead broke him out of his schemes. He frowned. No one should have been in this wing of the observatory, and especially not this late. He stilled and strained his ears, trying to ascertain where the sound came from. 

There was another muffled whimper, definitely a woman’s voice, from a room three doors ahead. Nikolai’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t stated that refugees should stay in the other wing, but still, he didn’t want people wandering around when he had more volatile inventions and projects hiding here. He crept forward, staying close to the wall so his shadow wouldn’t give him away. 

The closer he got to the closed door, the more apparent the quiet sobs became. Something in his chest twisted. Perhaps it was just someone mourning. There was more than enough loss to go around these days. He found himself hesitating as he gripped the doorknob.

He could offer some comfort, or at least warn her to not touch the cannon he’d been tinkering with the last time he’d used the room. He pushed the door open quietly and slipped inside.

He’d barely caught a glimpse of a figure dressed in blue hunched over on a bench under the window before her head jerked up towards him, eyes wide, and she thrust her hands forward. 

Nikolai slammed into the wall, sharp bursts of pain going off like fireworks all over his body. He fell to the ground in an undignified sprawl. Everything hurt. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs as he gasped for breath.

Had he accidentally let an assassin in among the Grisha? He struggled to push himself up, head spinning, as he went for the pistol at his waist. His fingers had only just closed around the familiar handle before a heavy boot ground itself onto his hand, the pressure making him swear loudly. He could feel the bones in his hand grinding against each other, the grain of the wooden floor digging into his flesh.

“Stay down,” the woman snarled. He blinked the spots out of his eyes as he moved his head to look up at her. The world spun and danced, but her face was in perfect focus. Saints, her face. She looked a few years younger than him, with light brown skin, windswept black curls, and dark eyes that glared fiercely at him even as they shone with tears. Her blue kefta was torn and stained as if she’d fought an entire war to get here. She looked like a vengeful Saint, equal parts grief and righteous anger. 

If she were an assassin, it wasn’t the worst way to go.

Nikolai raised his free hand in surrender. He eyed her warily, his hand aching and his body feeling like it’d been going ten rounds in a ring with Tolya. 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, voice rough. She swiped her torn sleeve across her face to get rid of her tears. “First Army soldiers are housed on the first floor.”

She didn’t know who he was, he realized. All she saw was the uniform, not the name. It was a rather freeing thought. He attempted a smile, but from her unchanged expression, it didn’t do him any favors. 

“Same as you, I reckon. Couldn’t sleep.”

He could see the doubt in her face, but still, she removed her boot from his hand. Feeling flooded back into his fingers. He winced as he wiggled them. They’d definitely be black and blue by morning.

“Find another room to sulk in. I was here first.” She didn’t bother helping him up as she turned on him and returned to her former seat on the bench. She raised an eyebrow as if expecting him to beg for her forgiveness and scurry out with his tail between his legs. 

Well, luckily for her, he was made of sterner stuff. He retrieved his pistol and brushed off his jacket as he clambered to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, working through the aches. 

“Misery loves company, wouldn’t you say so?”

She scowled. “Good thing I’m not misery. Get out.”

He studied her once again. Her expression was guarded, any shred of vulnerability locked away behind unscalable walls. She was not a girl in need of comfort, or a soldier in need of a friend. There was a proud tilt of her chin that told him she’d rather march alone than have anyone help shoulder her burdens. 

He could respect that.

He turned to go, but couldn’t help looking back one last time. He didn’t know what compelled him to lower his head. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said as sincerely as he could manage.

She threw back her head and laughed, sharp and scathing. He stared. “Sorry? For what? There’s nothing you could have done, otkazat'sya. Save your apologies for someone who wants them.”

The moonlight from the window made her glow, ethereal and untouchable. 

He hated losing the last word, but she made a worthy opponent. Nikolai closed the door behind him and went on his way, whistling and thinking of a girl with dark eyes and a sharp tongue.

[demigoddessqueens]

Okay so I’m wondering could you write a little something for Percy where the reader gets hit by some kind of curse (courtesy of Delilah😈😝) and she’s slowly turning to stone and she like confesses that she loves him at the last second cause like of course she waits and then percy is just such a mess because of course he was in love with her too but never said anything

And then maybe he confesses or cries or kisses her hand once she’s a statue or something to try to true love that shit but it doesn’t work and then grog accidentally knocks her over or something and Percy’s horrified because he thinks that’s the end of her and she’ll be shattered but instead the stone’s cracked open like an egg and the readers fine and she heard everything and this is getting to be a long ask but I think you get the picture 😅

Ohmygod 🤣💕😭😝💔😓 this man is gonna have a heart attack

Cassandra may have landed the fatal final blow to Delilah, but this witch was not done

You could see the witch summoning a last blow of magic before a final bolt was aimed at Percy. Everything moved too fast but slow at the same time.

You quickly moved to push Percy out of the way, the protests of the others buzzing in your ear, until you felt Delilah’s strike hitting you in the heart. Percy’s panicked cries sounded out through the chamber as he caught you when you stumbled.

It was almost instantaneous as you felt the loss of feeling start to spread. From across your chest to shoulders, to arms and legs that were now frozen.

“No, no no no! Why did you—? No! Why?!”

If you could feel your heart, it would have been breaking at Percy’s begging but you didn’t have enough time so you made the most of it.

“Percy, I don’t know how long I have. But…..I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

You quickly glanced to the rest of the party and Cassandra, frozen in horror at what Delilah had done.

“Love him well. He will need it.”

Percy’s green eyes shine brighter with the unshed tears that threatened to burst.

“Not you—not you too! I can’t lose you—.”

You already felt the stone creeping up your neck, just mere seconds before it was over.

“Percy, live a life for yourself. Find someone who will—.” Your words were cut short as the stone consumed you completely.

Percy’s anguished cry echoed throughout the chamber as he crumbled next to you. Still holding onto your stone hand he buried his head into it with broken teary murmurs of “I’m sorry, I love you.”

Frantically looking to help his friends, Grog searched through the bag for any of the elixirs or potions that could help.

“Percy maybe we could try—.” He meant well, but Grog bumping into the statue of you along with Percy almost set the rest of his nerves over the edge.

“Grog wait—!” The statue of you hit the floor with a resounding “thud!” as pieces chipped away at you.

For a while, Percy thought the last of his sanity slipped away until he saw a tuft of your hair peeking out. The rest of the stone was beginning to crack and he saw peeks of your skin.

“Quick, everyone help me! Please!”

The rest pitched in to help pick away at the pieces until the cracked stone was pushed away. You opened your eyes in amazement and shock, along with a deep breath. Percy choked on his relief as you were pulled into a bone-crushing hug

“I almost thought I lost you.”

Back at the home they were rewarded, Pike let out a deep sigh of relief at the sight of her friends. Her eyes wandered over to the sight of you and Percy huddled close together. His face buried into the crook of your neck as he held onto you tightly to his side.

“What happened to him?”

You all spoke in unison. “Don’t ask.”

[gamerbearmira]

Can we get more art/story for the FMAB au

Ok so I accidentally go an ask for this but. I lost it 💀 BUT I DO HAVE SOME WRITINGGGGGG RAHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅

Isabela giving Mirabel the limbs. I wanted to make it longer but. I didn't want to gamble on about it.

Lea get it

----

Isabela looked down at Mirabel, who was asleep. After the incident before, the 8-year-old attempted alchemy. She had tried to prove herself, again. And it resulted in her being this way. She had more than likely missed something in the book she was reading. Much like the miracle, nothing was free. Everything required a price. And in Mirabel's case?

It was her arm and leg.

Both were taken. Mirabel had attempted alchemy, something from her father's books. But you can't bring back what's already dead. And upon chasing after Dolores who was sprinting back to Casita, the family found the girl on the ground, screaming. And her arm and leg were gone and she was laying in her pool of blood. Vanished. Nowhere in the house or the Encanto. Just gone.

Everyone started freaking out and thankfully their mamá's food was able to heal her but...she wouldn't get her limbs back. They were gone now, meaning she couldn't really walk, though thankfully it wasn't her dominant arm that was taken. Not that her arm being taken at all was a good thing.

Isabela brushed her sister's hair out of her face, tears brimming her eyes. She didn't want this. She didn't want her sister to live like this. The fact that the girl thought that she needed to prove herself was terrible. But now she was missing entire parts of her body. Isabela summoned a vine, looking at it. She wondered if...could make her limbs, right? Her vines somewhat acted as limbs or extensions of herself so maybe...

Isabela carefully sat on the bed, lifting the stub that was Mirabel's leg. Tears flooded her eyes again, but she quickly wiped them away, determined to give her sister a chance to live a somewhat normal life. Summoning all of her power, she began to wrap the vines around Mirabel's stump. They dug into her skin, and the sleeping girl winced, stirring, but not waking. Isabela made sure that the makeshift limb was as close to her other good leg as possible, molding it so it was almost an exact copy, just flipped around. She could even still wear her favorite pink shoes if things went right. After a few minutes, she finished, examining her work.

It didn't look half bad.

It was still green, of course, but nothing a few nice flowers and plants couldn't fix. She carefully set the leg down, and Mirabel shifted once more, and Isabela smiled as the leg seem to respond to her, bending slightly. She quickly moved to her arm, repeating the process to that it was a mirror of her good arm. It didn't seem to move at first, but Mirabel moved it and it did seem to react to her body.

Isabela was beaming once she was done, colorful flowers sprouting about. It wasn't perfect, but she could refine it later. Once Mirabel woke, she would probably be surprised, maybe scared, but Isabela would help her through it. She'd do anything to make sure her hermanita was ok. Pressing a kiss on her sister's forehead, she quietly left the nursery, still smiling widely as she giddily moved downstairs to tell her family of the new limbs she had grown for her dear little sister.

-----

SO WHAT DO WE THINK....It's kinda trash, I know but like. I haven't fully watched or read FMAB so a lot of y source material is from Google 😭

BUT I HOPED YOU LIKED IT ANYWAYYYY <333 I do think this au is really cool <33

The Madrigals walking into Casita to see Mirabel with a missing arm and leg and sentiments of Pedro surrounding her